Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 153: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

HANDS. Not only were his clothes new, but they were odd—the latest city fashion, Rodney supposed, in his ignorance; and he wore a hat, a gorgeous affair of milk-white straw and varicolored ribbon band—in the sum- mer when all Haggars County economized on headgear. __ And not only would the stranger’s clothes have aroused any one’s regard, but he was engaged in a pursuit almost unknown to Hagegars County; he was seated calmly on a rock, overlooking the loveliest but poorest valley in the State, playing a violin. There was no ethical aversion to curiosity or its frank expression in that poor farming district. Rodney left his scissors-grinder in the road and drew near the wonderful stranger. Quite close to him he paused, his face flushing; for the first time he noticed the stranger’s hands. They were long, slender, and white as snow. Just such hands as Rodney wanted to have. The music took hold of him, shook him out of his country-shyness—unusual emo- tions swept him clean of reserve, forcing him into new lines of thought. If he had hands like that, perhaps he could play like that; and how godlike to be master of such divine sounds! How even the stars must envy this man his marvelous abilitv! When the music ceased he broke into expression. “J wish I could play like that,” he said and then and there sealed his fate. The violinist appeared neither startled nor annoyed. He put his violin down and threw up his hands. Up went his black eyebrows at the same time. He tossed his head and shook it violently. Any one of his friends could have told you that all these were signs that the musician was flattered. ‘““ Ah!” he breathed, with just a tinge of accent. “‘ There are many who would like to play like I.” He shook his head again. “ Kings who would give their kingdoms to play as I; they have told me so.” He looked at Rodney as if daring him to deny this. Of course Rodney wouldn’t have dared; besides, he was busy watching the light play on the white skin of the man’s hands. o19 ‘“Ah!” breathed the musician again. “You look at my hands. Yes, they are remarkable; casts have been made of them —to give to kings.” He paused, smiling benevolently upon Rodney. Surely he was being gracious, talking of his royal acquaintances to this dirty country boy, and the violinist fancied himself as a gra- cious person. ‘“And you—you ’’—he went on gently, sadly, sympathetically—‘‘ you want to play like me? With hands like yours?” He smiled and shook his head. Rodney flushed and clenched his hands. He hated them himself, but this was the first time that any one else had dared to ridicule them. ‘‘ My hands are all right,” he said savagely. The musician regarded him seriously. ‘““Let me see,” he said. He had taken Rodney’s first remark as an indication that the boy had the ambition to play the violin. With this idea in mind he took one of Rod- ney’s grudgingly bestowed hands in his. ‘To me,’ he went on pompously, as he turned the hand about, ‘‘ my art is every- thing. I am not like some musicians— jealous. I ama great musician; if you have a good hand I will tell you. Yes, I will even teach you—myself.”’ He looked at Rodney to see if he appre- ciated this tremendous magnanimity. As Rodney was speechless with astonishment at the suggestion that there was a chance for him to become a musician We took that fact as a tribute to his generosity and his greatness. “Yes,” he cried, ‘‘ yes, you are right. It is a good hand—a musician’s hand. But how is it that you keep them like this?” Looking up, he followed the direction of Rodney’s glance—observed -the gleam of hatred that shot from it as he indicated the scissors-grinder. That was enough; he flung. Rodney’s hand from him with a flourish. He arose and gathered the violin to him with one hand, while with the other he gesticulated in a kind of fury. ‘ Ah!” he cried. ‘‘ That is it. That is how you waste your life and your talent. That is bad, very bad. So leng as you COMIC DOOKS (E)