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.."Her nod and voice from a million miles off, "I do..." Do you accept this woman..."And Dick's voice -- hoarse -- answering... "I now pronounce you..." The strident roar of the organ, the brilliant blindness of the sunlight outside the chapel... the flash of the photographer's camera. The sting of thrown rice... the shouted congratulations and, from a couple of the junior high school kids who had been invited, "You'll be sorr-eeee." The reception line -- a never- ending line of faces and kisses and mouths uttering words she couldn't comprehend. The cutting of the cake. Everything all blur. Then Mrs. Martini again -- removing her gown -- helping her dress in a new tweed suit for travelling. A corsage being pinned to her coat.Then Dick again... meeting her in the hallway of the second floor outside her bedrooms... holding her. A shout as the reception guests saw them. A mad dash down the front stairs to Dick's car all painted with signs. The car door slamming. People shouting. Then, two! Only two?Two dollars, and who'll make it three?" Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;Going for three..." But, no, from the room, far back, a grey-haired manCame forward and picked up the bow;then wiping the dust from the old violin, and tightening the loosened strings, he played a melody pure and sweet, as a caroling angel sings.The music ceased, and the auctioneer, with a voice that was quiet and low, said, "What am I bid for the old violin?"And he held it up with the bow."A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?Two thousand! And who'll make it three?Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice, and going and gone," said he.The people cheered, but some of them cried, "We do not quite understand.What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:"The touch of the Master's hand."And many a man with life out of tune, and battered and scarred with sin, is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowdmuch like the old violin.A mess of pottage, a glass of wine, a game — and he.
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