On his return from the House that Jack Built,David decided to count his gold-pieces.He got them out at once from behind the books,and stacked them up in little shining rows.As he had surmised,there were a hundred of them.There were,indeed,a hundred and six.He was pleased at that.One hundred and six were surely enough to give him a "start."A start!David closed his eyes and pictured it.To go on with his violin,to hear good music,to be with people who understood what he said when he played!That was what Mr.Jack had said a "start"was.And this gold--these round shining bits of gold--could bring him this!David swept the little piles into a jingling heap,and sprang to his feet with both fists full of his suddenly beloved wealth.With boyish glee he capered about the room,jingling the coins in his hands.Then,very soberly,he sat down again,and began to gather the gold to put away.
He would be wise--he would be sensible.He would watch his chance,and when it came he would go away.First,however,he would tell Mr.Jack and Joe,and the Lady of the Roses;yes,and the Hollys,too.Just now there seemed to be work,real work that he could do to help Mr.Holly.But later,possibly when September came and school,--they had said he must go to school,--he would tell them then,and go away instead.He would see.By that time they would believe him,perhaps,when he showed the gold-pieces.
They would not think he had--STOLEN them.It was August now;he would wait.But meanwhile he could think--he could always be thinking of the wonderful thing that this gold was one day to bring to him.
Even work,to David,did not seem work now.In the morning he was to rake hay behind the men with the cart.Yesterday he had not liked it very well;but now--nothing mattered now.And with a satisfied sigh David put his precious gold away again behind the books in the cupboard.
David found a new song in his violin the next morning.To be sure,he could not play it--much of it--until four o'clock in the afternoon came;for Mr.Holly did not like violins to be played in the morning,even on days that were not especially the Lord's.
There was too much work to do.So David could only snatch a strain or two very,very softly,while he was dressing;but that was enough to show him what a beautiful song it was going to be.
He knew what it was,at once,too.It was the gold-pieces,and what they would bring.All through the day it tripped through his consciousness,and danced tantalizingly just out of reach.Yet he was wonderfully happy,and the day seemed short in spite of the heat and the weariness.
At four o'clock he hurried home and put his violin quickly in tune.It came then--that dancing sprite of tantalization--and joyously abandoned itself to the strings of the violin,so that David knew,of a surety,what a beautiful song it was.
It was this song that sent him the next afternoon to see his Lady of the Roses.He found her this time out of doors in her garden.
Unceremoniously,as usual,he rushed headlong into her presence.
"Oh,Lady--Lady of the Roses,"he panted."I've found out,and Icame quickly to tell you."
"Why,David,what--what do you mean?"Miss Holbrook looked unmistakably startled.
"About the hours,you know,--the unclouded ones,"explained David eagerly."You know you said they were ALL cloudy to you."Miss Holbrook's face grew very white.
"You mean--you've found out WHY my hours are--are all cloudy ones?"she stammered.
"No,oh,no.I can't imagine why they are,"returned David,with an emphatic shake of his head."It's just that I've found a way to make all my hours sunny ones,and you can do it,too.So Icame to tell you.You know you said yours were all cloudy.""Oh,"ejaculated Miss Holbrook,falling back into her old listless attitude.Then,with some asperity:"Dear me,David!Did n't I tell you not to be remembering that all the time?""Yes,I know,but I've LEARNED something,"urged the boy;"something that you ought to know.You see,I did think,once,that because you had all these beautiful things around you,the hours ought to be all sunny ones.But now I know it isn't what's around you;it's what is IN you!""Oh,David,David,you curious boy!"
"No,but really!Let me tell you,"pleaded David."You know Ihaven't liked them,--all those hours till four o'clock came,--and I was so glad,after I saw the sundial,to find out that they didn't count,anyhow.But to-day they HAVEcounted--they've all counted,Lady of the Roses;and it's just because there was something inside of me that shone and shone,and made them all sunny--those hours.""Dear me!And what was this wonderful thing?"David smiled,but he shook his head.
"I can't tell you that yet--in words;but I'll play it.You see,I can't always play them twice alike,--those little songs that Ifind,--but this one I can.It sang so long in my head,before my violin had a chance to tell me what it really was,that I sort of learned it.Now,listen!"And be began to play.
It was,indeed,a beautiful song,and Miss Holbrook said so with promptness and enthusiasm;yet still David frowned.
