"I'd like to be in the orchestra, too, and we can't both use the same violin at the same time."
Daddy's face looked sad.
That night, and many following nights, I heard him remind God in our family devotions, "... and Lord, Mary Lou
wants her own violin."
One evening we all sat around the table.
The twins and I studied.
Mother sewed, and Daddy wrote a letter to his friend, George Finkle, in Columbus, Ohio.
Mr. Finkle, Daddy said, was a fine violinist.
As he wrote, Daddy read parts of his letter out loud to Mother.
Weeks later I discovered he'd written one line he didn't read aloud: "Would you watch for a violin for my third
daughter? I can't pay much, but she enjoys music, and we'd like her to have her own instrument."
When Daddy received a letter from Columbus a few weeks later, he announced, "We'll be driving to Columbus to
spend the night with Aunt Alice as soon as I can find someone to care for the livestock."
At last the day arrived, and we drove to Aunt Alice's.
After we arrived, I listened while Daddy made a phone call. He hung up and asked, "Mary Lou, do you want to go
with me to visit Mr. Finkle?"
"Sure," I answered.
He drove into a residential area and stopped in the driveway of a fine, old house.
We walked up the steps and rang the door chime.
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