The regular throbbing of a horse's feet approaching along the road at a brisk walk became quite distinct. Emeline's sensations were suspended while she listened. From the direction of St. James she saw a figure on horseback coming between the dusky parallel fence rows. The sound of walking ceased in front of the house, and presently another sound crept barely as high as the attic window. It was the cry of a violin, sweet and piercing, like some celestial voice. It took her unawares. She fled from it to her place beside Roxy and covered her ears with the bedclothes. Roxy turned with a yawn and aroused from sleep. She rose to her elbow and drew in her breath, giggling. The violin courted like an angel, finding secret approaches to the girl who lay rigid with her ears stopped. “Cousin Emeline!” whispered Roxy, “do you hear that?” “What is it?” inquired Emeline, revealing no emotion. “It's Brother Strang serenading.” [Illustration: “IT'S BROTHER STRANG SERENADING”] “How do you know?” “Because he is the only man on Beaver who can play the fiddle like that.” Roxy gave herself over to unrestrained giggling. “A man fifty years old!” “I don't believe it,” responded Emeline, sharply. “Don't believe he is nearly fifty? He told his age to the elders.” “I haven't a word of praise for him, but he isn't an old man. He doesn't look more than thirty-five.” “To hear that fiddle you'd think he wasn't twenty,” chuckled Roxy. “It's the first time Brother Strang ever came serenading down this road.” He did not stay long, but went, trailing music deliciously into the distance. Emeline knew how he rode, with the bridle looped over his bow arm. She was quieted and lay in peace, sinking to sleep almost before the faint, far notes could no longer be heard. From that night her uncle Cheeseman's family changed their attitude towards her. She felt it as a withdrawal of intimacy, though it expressed reverential awe. Especially did her Mormon aunt Mahala take little tasks out of her hands and wait upon her, while her legal aunt looked at her curiously. It was natural for Roxy to talk to Billy Wentworth across the fence, but it was not natural for them to share so much furtive laughter, which ceased when Emeline approached. Uncle Cheeseman himself paid more attention to his niece and spent much time at the table explaining to her the Mormon situation on Beaver Island, tracing the colony back to its secession from Brigham Young's party in Illinois. “Brother Strang was too large for them,” said her uncle. “He can do anything he undertakes to do.”