"
Mrs. McCarty departed with her money, and Eliakim fixed his sharp
eyes on the next customer. It was a tall man, shabbily dressed,
with a thin, melancholy-looking face, and the expression of one
who had struggled with the world, and failed in the struggle.
"How much for this?" he asked, pointing to the violin, and
speaking in a slow, deliberate tone, as if he did not feel at
home in the language.
"What do you want for it?"
"Ten dollar," he answered.
"Ten dollars! You're crazy!" was the contemptuous comment of
the pawnbroker.
"He is a very good violin," said the man. "If you would like to
hear him," and he made a movement as if to play upon it.
"Never mind!" said Eliakim. "I haven't any time to hear it. If
it were new it would be worth something; but it's old, and----"
"But you do not understand," interrupted the customer, eagerly.
"It is worth much more than new. Do you see, it is by a famous
maker? I would not sell him, but I am poor, and my Bettina needs
bread. It hurts me very much to let him go. I will buy him back
as soon as I can."
"I will give you two dollars, but I shall lose on it, unless you
redeem it."
"Two dollar!" repeated the Italian.
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