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〃A fiddle？ I don't know a thing about 'em except that they sound
good。〃 Cutty pulled at his chin。
〃Whatever it costs I'll reimburse you the day I'm up。〃
〃All right。 I'll bring you a bundle of them； and you can do your
own selecting。〃
Out in the corridor the nurse said： 〃I couldn't hold him。 But he'll
be easier now that he's got the questions off his mind。 He will
have to be humoured a lot。 That's one of the characteristics of
head wounds。〃
〃What do you think of him？〃
〃He seems to be gentle and patient； and I imagine he's hard to resist
when he wants anything。 Winning； you'd call it。 I suppose I mustn't
ask who he really is？〃
〃No。 Poor devil。 The fewer that know； the better。 I'll be home
round three。〃
Once in the street； Cutty was besieged suddenly with the irresistible
desire to mingle with the crowd over in the Avenue； to hear the
military bands； the shouts； to witness the gamut of emotions which
he knew would attend this epochal day。 Of course he would view it
all from the aloof vantage of the historian； and store away
commentaries against future needs。
And what a crowd it was！ He was elbowed and pushed； jostled and
trod on； carried into the surges； relegated to the eddies； and always
the metallic taptap of steel…shod boots on the asphalt； the bayonets
throwing back the radiant sunshine in sharp； clear flashes。 The
keen； joyous faces of those boys。 God； to be young like that！ To
have come through that hell on earth with the ability still to smile！
Cutty felt the tears running down his cheeks。 Instinctively he knew
that this was to be his last thrill of this order。 He was fifty…two。
〃Quit your crowding there！〃 barked a voice under his chin。
〃Sorry； but it's those behind me；〃 said Cutty； looking down into a
florid countenance with a raggedy gray moustache and a pair of blue
eyes that were blinking。
〃I'm so damned short I can't see anything！〃
〃Neither can I。〃
〃You could if you wiped your eyes。〃
〃You're crying yourself；〃 declared Cutty。
〃Blinking jackass！ Got anybody out there？〃
〃All of 'em。〃
〃I get you； old son of a gun！ No flesh and blood； but they're ours
all the same。 Couple of old fools； huh？〃
〃Sure pop！ What right have two old codgers got here； anyhow？ What
brought you out？〃
〃What brought you？〃
〃Same thing。〃
〃Damn it！ If I could only see something！〃
Cutty put his hands upon the shoulders of this chance acquaintance
and propelled him toward the curb。 There were cries of protest；
curses； catcalls； but Cutty bored on ahead until he got his man where
he could see the tin hats； the bayonets； and the colours； and thus
they stood for a full hour。 Each time the flag went by the little
man yanked off his derby and turned truculently to see that Cutty
did the same。
〃Say；〃 he said as they finally dropped back； 〃I'd offer to buy a
drink； only it sounds flat。〃
〃And it would taste flat after a mighty wine like this；〃 replied
Cutty。 〃Maybe you've heard of the nectar of the gods。 Well； you've
just drunk it； my friend。〃
〃I sure have。 Those kids out there； smiling after all that hell；
and you and me on the sidewalk； blubbering over 'em！ What's the
answer？ We're Americans！〃
〃You said it。 Good…bye。〃
Cutty pressed on to the flow and went along with it； lighter in the
heart than he had been in many a day。 These two million who lined
Fifth Avenue； who cheered； laughed； wept； went silent； cheered again；
what did their presence here signify？ That America's day had come；
that as a people they were homogeneous at last； that that which laws
had failed to bring forth had been accomplished by an ideal。
Bolshevism； socialism … call it what you will … would beat itself
into fragments against this Rock of Democracy； which went down to
the centre of the world and whose pinnacle touched the stars。
Reincarnation； the simple ideals of the forefathers restored。 And
with this knowledge tingling in his thoughts … and perhaps there
was a bit of spring in his heart … Cutty continued on； without
destination； chin jutting； eyes shining。 He was an American！
He might have continued on indefinitely had he not seen obliquely
a window filled with musical instruments。
Hawksley's fiddle！ He had all but forgotten。 All right。 If the
poor beggar wanted to scrape a fiddle； scrape it he should。 The
least he； Cutty； could do would be to accede to any and every whim
Hawksley expressed。 Wasn't he planning to rob the beggar of the
drums； happen they ever turned up？ But how the deuce to pick out
a fiddle which would have a tune in it？ Of all the hypercritical
duffers the fiddler was the worst。 Beside a fiddler of the first
rank the rich old maid with the poodle was a hail fellow well met。
Of course Gregor had taught the chap。 That meant he would know
instantly； just as his host would instantly observe the difference
between green glass and green beryl。
Cutty turned into the shop； infinitely amused。 Fiddles！ What next？
Having constituted a guardianship over Kitty； he was now playing
impressario to Hawksley。 As if he hadn't enough parts to play！
Wouldn't he be risking his life to…night trying to find where Stefani
Gregor was？ Fiddles！ Fiddles and emeralds！ What a choice old
hypocrite he was！
Fate has a way of telling you all about it … afterward； conceivably；
that humanity might continue to reproduce its species。 Otherwise
humanity would proceed to extinguish itself forthwith。 Thus； Cutty
was totally unaware upon entering the shop that he was about to tear
off its hinges the door he was so carefully bolting and latching and
padlocking between Kitty Conover and this duffer who wanted to fiddle
his way through convalescence。
Where there is fiddling there is generally dancing。 If it be not the
feet； then it will be the soul。
CHAPTER XVIII
There are some men who know a little about all things and a great
deal about many。 Such a man was Cutty。 But as he approached the
counter behind which stood an expectant clerk he felt for once that
he was in a far country。 There were fiddles and fiddles； just as
there were emeralds and emeralds。 Never again would he laugh over
the story of the man who thought Botticelli was a manufacturer of
spool thread。 He attacked the problem； however； like the
thoroughbred he was … frankly。
〃I want to buy a violin；〃 he began； knowing that in polite musical
circles the word fiddle was taboo。 〃I know absolutely nothing at
all about quality or price。 Understand； though； while you might be
able to fool me； you wouldn't fool the man I'm buying it for。 Now
what would you suggest？〃
The clerk … a salesman familiar with certain urban types； thinly
including the Fifth Avenue； which came in for talking…machine
records … recognized in this well…dressed； attractive elderly man
that which he designated the swell。 Hateful word； yes； but having
a perfectly legitimate niche； since in the minds of the hoi polloi
it nicely describes the differences between the poor gentleman and
the gentleman of leisure。 To proceed with the digression； to no one
is the word more hateful than to the individual to whom it is
applied。 Cutty would have blushed at the clerk's thought。
〃Perhaps I'd better get the proprietor；〃 was the clerk's suggestion。
〃Good idea；〃 Cutty agreed。 〃Take my card along with you。〃 This was
a Fifth Avenue shop； and Cutty knew there would be a Who's Who or a
Bradstreet somewhere about。
In the interim he inspected the case…lined walls。 Trombones。 He
chuckled。 Lucky that Hawksley's talent didn't extend in this
direction。 True； he himself collected drums； but he did not play
them。 Something odd about music； human beings had to have it； the
very lowest in the scale。 A universal magic。 He was himself very
fond of good music； but these days he fought shy of it； it had the
faculty of sweeping him back into the twenties and reincarnating
vanished dreams。
After a certain length of time； from the corner of his eye he saw
the clerk returning with the proprietor； the latter wearing an
amiable smile； which probably connoted a delving into the aforesaid
volumes of attainment and worth。 Cutty hoped this was so； as it
would obviate the necessity of going into details as to who he was
and what he had。
〃Your name is familiar to me；〃 began the proprietor。 〃You collect
antique drums。 My clerk tells me that you wish to purchase a good
violin。〃
〃Very good。 I have in my apartment rather a distinguished guest
who plays the violin for his own amusement。 He is ill and cannot
select for himself。 Now I know a little about music but nothing
about violins。〃
〃I suggest that I personally carry half a dozen instruments to your
apartment and let your guest try them。 How much is he willing to
pay？〃
〃Top price； I should say。 Shall I make a deposit？〃
〃If you don't mind。 Merely precautionary。 Half a dozen violins
will represent quite a sum of money； and taxicabs are unreliable
animals。 A thousand against accidents。 What time shall I call？〃
The proprietor's curiosity was stirred。 Musical celebrities； as he
had occasion to know； were always popping up in queer places。 Some
new star proba