F. Hopkinson Smith

“ I HAD passed him coming up the dingy corridor that led to Bob's law-office, and knew at once that he was one of Bob's tramps.
When he had squeezed himself through the partly opened door and had closed it gently—closed it with a hand held behind his back, like one who had some favor to ask or some confidence game to play—he proved to be a man about fifty years of age, fat and short, with a round head partly bald, and hair quite gray. ”

“ Suddenly as he reached the neck he stopped, turned the violin in his hand, and unwound the handkerchief again.
"Tid you oxamine te neck? See how it lays in te hand! Tid you ever see neck like dat? No, you don't see it, never," in a positive tone, looking at us again over the silver rims of his spectacles.
Bob took the violin in his hand. It was evidently an old one and of peculiar shape. The swells and curves of the sides and back were delicately rounded and highly finished. ”

“ Then his tender heart got the better of him.
"I cannot afford to pay sixty dollars for another violin," ho said, his voice expressing the sincerity of his regret.
"I cannot sell him vor less," said the man, in a quick, decided way. It would have been an unfledged amateur impostor who could not have gained courage at this last change in Bob's tone. "Ven I get to New York," he continued, with almost a sob, "I must haf some money more as my railroad ticket to get anudder sheap violin. Te peoples will say it is Grossman come home vidout hees violin—he is broke. No, I no can sell him vor less. ”