"But further, Rico," continued the teacher, "do you suppose that one need only to buy a violin in order to play it? One has to do much more than that. Just step in and let me show you." The teacher opened the door as he spoke and took down the violin from its place on the wall. "There, take it on your arm and hold the bow in your hand; so, my boy. Now, if you can sound _C, D, E, F,_ I will give you a half dollar right away." Rico actually had the violin on his arm! His face flushed, as with sparkling eyes he played firmly and correctly, _C, D, E, F_. "You little rascal!" exclaimed the teacher. "Where did you learn that? Who taught you so that you can find the notes?" "I know something else too, if I might play it," Rico ventured to say. "Play it," directed the teacher. Rico played the melody of the song, "Little Lambs," with the greatest confidence, his eyes speaking his pleasure. The teacher had taken a chair and put on his spectacles. He had looked attentively at Rico's fingers, moving with easy grace, then at his joyous countenance, and again at his fingers. The boy had played correctly. "Come to me, Rico," said the teacher, as he moved his chair to the window and put Rico directly in front of him; "I want to talk a little with you. You see, your father is an Italian, Rico, and they do all sorts of things down there, they say, that we know nothing of up here in the hills. Now look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. How is it that you are able to play this tune correctly on my violin?" Rico looked steadily at the teacher and said frankly, "I learned it from you in school, where we sing it so often." The teacher got up and paced the floor. This put the matter in an entirely different light. So he was himself the cause of this wonderful intelligence! All his suspicions vanished, and he good-naturedly took out his pocketbook. "There is the half dollar, Rico; it belongs to you. You had better go now, but keep on being attentive to the violin playing. It may be that you can make it amount to something, so that in twelve or fourteen years you can buy a violin for yourself. Good night." Rico had looked longingly at the violin when he realized that he must go, and he now laid it very tenderly on the table. He was pondering the last words of the teacher, when Stineli came running to meet him. "How long it did take you!" she exclaimed. "Did you ask him?" "Yes, but it is all of no use," said Rico with frowning brow. "A violin costs six hundred pennies, and in fourteen years, when everybody will probably be dead, he thought I could perhaps buy one. Who wants to live fourteen years from now? There, you may take that; I don't want it," and he put the half dollar into Stineli's hand. "Six hundred pennies!" repeated Stineli in amazement. "And how did you get this money?" Rico told Stineli what had passed between him and the teacher, and again said, "It is of no use." Stineli urged Rico to keep the money, but he would not take it again.