I like a drum myself, and mean to learn as soon as ever I can." "I like a fiddle best; I can play one too," said Nat, getting confidential on this attractive subject.
"Can you ?" and Tommy stared over the rim of his mug with round eyes, full of interest.

"Mr.Bhaer's got an old fiddle, and he'll let you play on it if you want to." "Could I?
Oh, I would like it ever so much.

You see, I used to go round fiddling with my father, and another man, till he died." "Wasn't that fun ?" cried Tommy, much impressed.
"No, it was horrid; so cold in winter, and hot in summer.

And I got tired; and they were cross sometimes; and I didn't get enough to eat." Nat paused to take a generous bite of gingerbread, as if to assure himself that the hard times were over; and then he added regretfully: "But I did love my little fiddle, and I miss it.

Nicolo took it away when father died, and wouldn't have me any longer, 'cause I was sick." "You'll belong to the band if you play good.