“That’s as good as a circus,” thought Frank, as his roguish glance followed the two baffled conspirators as they rode out of the yard.  “It’s a pity Phil was not here to enjoy it.”

At the end of the second day, Philip was some forty miles distant from Norton.  He had not walked all the way, but had got a lift for a few miles from a tin-peddler, with whom he had a social chat.

It cannot be said that he was depressed, or that he regretted having left Norton, but he certainly did feel uncomfortable, and his discomfort sprang from a very homely cause.

To tell the plain truth, he was hungry.  He had not had anything to eat for six hours except an apple, which he had picked up by the roadside, and during those six hours he had walked not far from fifteen miles.

“I believe I never was so hungry before,” thought Philip.  “The question is, where is my supper to come from?”

Although he knew pretty well the state of his finances, he began to search his pockets to see if he could not somewhere find a stray dime, or, better still, a quarter, with which to purchase the meal of which he stood so much in need.  But his search was unproductive, or, rather, it only resulted in the discovery of a battered cent.

“So that penny constitutes my whole fortune,” thought Philip.

There were two houses in sight, one on each side of the road.

Probably they would have given Philip a supper at either, but our hero’s honest pride revolted at the idea of begging for a meal, much as he stood in need of it.  He might as well be a pauper, as he justly reflected.  So he pushed on.

Evidently he was drawing near a village, for houses began to appear at nearer intervals.

“Hello, my boy!  Where are you traveling!” asked a hearty voice.

Philip turned round, and his glance rested on a stout young farmer, whose face, though very much sunburned, was pleasant and good-natured.

“I don’t know,” answered Philip.

“Don’t know?” was repeated in surprise.

“I am in search of work.”

“Oh, that’s it!  Are you a musician?” asked the young man, looking at the violin.

“Yes; a little of one.”

“Are you looking for a job at fiddling?” asked the young man.

“Yes, if I can find one,” answered Philip, smiling.

“Can you play dancing-music?”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess I can get you a job for this evening.”

“I wish you could,” said Philip hopefully, catching at a way out of his troubles.

“You see, there’s to be a little dance in School-house Hall to-night,” said the farmer; “or there was to be one, but the fiddler’s took sick, and we was afraid we’d have to give it up.  Now, if you’ll take his place, we can have it, after all.”

“I’ll do it,” said Philip promptly.

“What’ll you charge?”

“How much was the other one going to charge?”