At noon that day, I drove back to my house after the performance. Just as I entered the living room, I heard a gentle sound coming from the bedroom upstairs—it was the sound of my favorite violin.
“Thief!”
I dashed upstairs. Sure enough, as expected, a boy of about 12 years old was petting my violin. The boy had messy hair and a thin face, his oversized coat seemingly filled with something. At first glance, I found a new pair of shoes missing. It seemed that he was surely a thief.
Then, I saw his eyes full of fear and despair. My anger was immediately replaced by a smile, I asked, “Are you Mr. Ram’s nephew, Michael? I’m his housekeeper. Two days ago, I heard his nephew living in the countryside will come. It must be you. You’re really like him!”
On hearing my words, the boy was first astonished, but then quickly said, “Has my uncle gone out? I think I’d better first go out for a walk and visit him again in a while.”
I nodded and asked the boy who was preparing to put down the violin, “Do you like to play the violin so much?”
“Yes, but I’m so poor that I can’t afford it,” the boy replied.
“Then, I give this violin to you.” The boy looked at me questioningly, but he picked up the violin. Going out to the living room, he suddenly saw on the wall my huge color photo I performed in the Sydney Opera House. He involuntarily trembled for a moment and ran out without looking back.
I was sure that the boy had understood what happened because no one would decorate the living room with the housekeeper’s photo.
Paragraph 1:A few years later, I was invited to be a judge at a music competition of senior high school students.
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After the competition, “Michael” ran to me, holding a violin box.
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