After a time the boy picked up his violin and began to play, softly, and at first with evident hesitation.

Even when his touch became more confident, there was still in the music a questioning appeal that seemed to find no answer--an appeal that even the player himself could not have explained.
For long minutes the young woman and the boy sat thus in the twilight.
Then suddenly the woman got to her feet.
"Come, come, boy, what can I be thinking of ?" she cried sharply.

"I must go in and you must go home.

Good-night." And she swept across the grass to the path that led toward the house..