For a moment the boy looked as if he were going to let them remain where they were.

But the next minute, with an impatient gesture, he had picked them up and thrust them deep into one of his pockets, silencing their jingling with his handkerchief.
Once dressed, David picked up his violin and stepped softly into the hall.

At first no sound reached his ears; then from the kitchen below came the clatter of brisk feet and the rattle of tins and crockery.
Tightening his clasp on the violin, David slipped quietly down the back stairs and out to the yard.

It was only a few seconds then before he was hurrying through the open doorway of the barn and up the narrow stairway to the loft above.
At the top, however, he came to a sharp pause, with a low cry.

The next moment he turned to see a kindly-faced man looking up at him from the foot of the stairs.
"Oh, sir, please--please, where is he?
What have you done with him ?" appealed the boy, almost plunging headlong down the stairs in his haste to reach the bottom.
Into the man's weather-beaten face came a look of sincere but awkward sympathy.
"Oh, hullo, sonny! So you're the boy, are ye ?" he began diffidently.
"Yes, yes, I'm David.