she does. There's no sense in the world in you not having his violin. I've a great notion"
"Has she got it?"
"No. I've never heard her mention it. It was not at home when he—when he died."
"Do you know where it is?"
"Yes. I'm the only person on earth who does, except the one who has it."
"Who is that?"
"I can't tell you, but I will see if they have it yet, and get it if I can. But if your mother finds it out she will never forgive me."
"I can't help it," said Elnora. "I want that violin. I want it now."
"I'll go to-morrow, and get it if it has not been destroyed."
"Destroyed! Oh, Aunt Margaret! Would any one dare?"
"I hardly think so. It was a good instrument. He played it like a master."
"Tell me!" breathed Elnora.
"His hair was red and curled more than yours, and his eyes were blue. He was tall, slim, and the very imp of mischief. He joked and teased all day until he picked up that violin. Then his head bent over it, and his eyes got big and earnest. He seemed to listen as if he first heard the notes, and then copied them. Sometimes he drew the bow trembly, like he wasn't sure it was right, and he might have to try again. He could almost drive
