It strikes me this ought ter fetch somethin' first cousin to a dirge!" On the porch steps David paused a breathless instant.

From the kitchen came the sound of Mrs.Holly's sobs and of a stern voice praying.

With a shudder and a little choking cry the boy turned then and crept softly upstairs to his room.
He played, too, as Perry Larson had wagered.

But it was not the tragedy of the closed bank, nor the honor of the threatened farm-selling that fell from his violin.

It was, instead, the swan song of a little pile of gold--gold which lay now in a chimney cupboard, but which was soon to be placed at the feet of the mourning man and woman downstairs.