They knew he was old for
he was stooped and walked with the shuffling gait that comes from
feebleness. His head was bent over his violin, and as he walked those
unearthly sweet strains melted into the moonlight and became a part of
the silver mist. Just as he reached a point opposite the house he must
have stopped. A tree hid him from the two watching. Probably he sat
down on the large rock at the side of the road to rest--to rest and
play. For, hidden from the enthralled listeners, he played the
"Serenade" through twice, lovingly, delicately, with a haunting
yearning that held a touch of genius. Then, still playing, he shuffled
on. They caught a glimpse of him as he came out from behind the tree,
saw the light flash on his bow and he was gone. They listened until
his music had died away in the distance--always the "Serenade," over
and over.

"Oh--Mother!" Rosemary raised her blue eyes, swimming in tears.

"Yes, dearest--" there was a little catch in Mrs. Willis' tender voice.
"It was very beautiful and very wonderful--but you must go to bed now.
It is late."

Rosemary, turning drowsily to pillow her cheek on her hand after her
mother's kiss, was conscious of a hope that the old violin player might
not lack a comfortable bed and the peace and security of a
home--somewhere.

"It is so nice at Rainbow Hill," murmured Rosemary, drifting off into
delicious slumber.

CHAPTER IV

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

"Aren't you ever going to get up?" demanded Sarah.

Rosemary sat up and regarded her sister sleepily.

"Did you hear the violin?" she asked.

"What violin?" Sarah's surprise was an answer in itself.

While she dressed, hurried by the impatient younger girls, for Shirley
soon joined Sarah, Rosemary told of the music she had heard the night
before.

"Mother heard it, too; we both saw the old man," she asserted when they
were inclined to be skeptical and scoffed that she had been dreaming.

Winnie had evidently risen "with the larks" as she was fond of
declaring (though when pressed by Sarah, intent on the habits and
traits of larks, she had been forced to admit that she had never seen
one) for the windows on the first floor were unlocked and open to the
fresh morning air and the upper half of the Dutch door folded back to
let in a flood of sunshine.

"Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes," Winnie greeted the girls.
"Ten minutes, no more, no less; and you're not to set foot out of the
house until