What's it been, Volmer?"
"Was getting fifty dollars a week leading the orchestra at the Grand in
Chicago, when I got sick. Don't know what it was, Rupe--the doctors
didn't know. Got into my ears, and that knocked me--couldn't tell one
note from another; so, of course, that let me out. Hard luck, Rupe, hard
luck. Tough world this, Rupe. Why God Almighty crams a fellow's head
full of music, and then disables him so's he can't make use of it, I
don't know--I don't know."
Rupert sympathized with his friend, and then told him of his errand. A
ray of sunshine seemed to enter the musician's life. The property was
for sale, yes, and cheap, dirt cheap; so the transaction was partly
arranged, and Volmer Holm went home to his wife and four children with
quite a happy heart that day.
"It's too bad about Volmer Holm," said Rupert to his sister. "I had not
heard of his misfortune. Such a genius in music, too."
"Well, I don't know," answered Nina, "it may be all for the best. Rumor
had it that he was fast getting into bad ways in Chicago; and some men
are better off by being poor, anyway.
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