Then, abruptly, he spoke.
"David, I wish I had money.

I'd put you then where you belonged," he sighed.
"Do you mean--where I'd find my work to do ?" asked the boy softly.
"Well--yes; you might say it that way," smiled the man, after a moment's hesitation--not yet was Mr.Jack quite used to this boy who was at times so very un-boylike.
"Father told me 't was waiting for me--somewhere." Mr.Jack frowned thoughtfully.
"And he was right, David.

The only trouble is, we like to pick it out for ourselves, pretty well,--too well, as we find out sometimes, when we're called off--for another job." "I know, Mr.Jack, I know," breathed David.

And the man, looking into the glowing dark eyes, wondered at what he found there.

It was almost as if the boy really understood about his own life's disappointment--and cared; though that, of course, could not be! "And it's all the harder to keep ourselves in tune then, too, is n't it ?" went on David, a little wistfully.
"In tune ?" "With the rest of the Orchestra." "Oh!" And Mr.Jack, who had already heard about the "Orchestra of Life," smiled a bit sadly.