单选题 The Street Violinist
I got up and dressed, stuck my violin under my jacket, and went out into the streets to try my luck. I wandered about for an hour, looking for a likely spot, feeling as though I were about to commit a crime. Then I stopped at last under a bridge near the station and decided to have a try.
I felt tense and nervous. It was the first time, after all. I drew the violin from under my coat like a gun. It was here, in Southampton, with trains rattling overhead, that I was about to declare myself. One morning I was part of the hurrying crowds, the next I stood apart, my back to the wall, my hat on the pavement before me, the violin under my chin.
The fist notes I played were loud and raw, like a declaration of protest. Then they settled down and began to run more smoothly and to stay more or less in turn. To my surprise I was neither arrested nor told to shut up. Indeed, nobody took any notice at all. Then an old man, without stopping, surreptitiously tossed a penny into my hat as though getting out of some guilty evidence.
I worked the streets of Southampton for several days, gradually acquiring the truths of the trade by trial and error. It was not a good thing, for instance, to let the hat fill up with money—the sight
could discourage the patron. Nor was it wise to empty it completely, which could also confuse him, giving him no hint as to where to drop his money. Placing a couple of pennies in the hat to start the thing going soon became a regular ritual, making sure between tunes, to hide most of the earnings, but always leaving two pennies behind.
Old ladies were most generous, and so were women with children, shopgirls, typists and barmaids. As for the man, heavy drinkers were always willing listeners and so were big guys with muscles. But never a man with a gentleman's hat, briefcase or dog. Respectable types were the meanest of all. Except for retired army officers, who Would yell "Why aren't you working, young man?" and then toss some money into the hat to hide their confusion.