The sound persisted. Billy vaulted the fence, and ran down the road with
his queer sidewise hop. When he neared the Comstock cabin, he left the
warm dust of the highway and stepped softly at slower pace over the
rank grasses of the roadside. He had heard aright. The violin was in the
grape arbour, singing a perfect jumble of everything, poured out in an
exultant tumult. The strings were voicing the joy of a happy girl heart.
Billy climbed the fence enclosing the west woods and crept toward the
arbour. He was not a spy and not a sneak. He merely wanted to satisfy
his child-heart as to whether Mrs. Comstock was at home, and Elnora
at last playing her loved violin with her mother's consent. One peep
sufficed. Mrs. Comstock sat in the moonlight, her head leaning against
the arbour; on her face was a look of perfect peace and contentment. As
he stared at her the bow hesitated a second and Mrs. Comstock spoke:
"That's all very melodious and sweet," she said, "but I do wish you
could play Money Musk and some of the tunes I danced as a girl."
Elnora had been carefully avoiding every note that might be reminiscent
of her father. At the words she laughed softly and began "Turkey in the
Straw." An instant later Mrs. Comstock was dancing in the moon light.
Ammon sprang to her side, caught her in his arms, while to Elnora's
laughter and the violin's impetus they danced until they dropped panting
on the arbour bench.
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