repeated again and again, until Winn, enraptured, spellbound, moving not a finger but listening ever, heard it no more. Then presently, as watching and wondering still whence and from whose hand had come this almost uncanny music, he saw, deep down amid the tangle of rocks below him, a slight, girlish figure emerge, with a dark green bag clasped tenderly under one arm, and slowly pick her way up the sides of the defile and disappear toward the village. CHAPTER VII SUNDAY ON ROCKHAVEN For a few days Winn Hardy was so occupied with the cares of his new position that he thought of little else. It was a pleasing freedom, for never before had he known what it was to be his own master; but now the hiring of men and directing operations gave him a sense of power and responsibility that was exhilarating. Jess Hutton aided him in many ways and, in fact, seemed anxious to assist in this new enterprise that was likely to be of material benefit to Rockhaven. Winn wisely let the stock matter rest, feeling that a practical demonstration of the Rockhaven Granite Company's enterprise and intentions would in due time establish confidence. He wondered many times who the girl was that had hid herself in that weird cluster of rocks to play the violin, and marvelled that any maid, born and reared amid the half-starved residents of Rockhaven, should even have that laudable ambition; but he asked no questions. In a way, the romance of it also kept him from inquiries. "I will bide my time," he thought, "and some day I will go over and surprise this maid of the gorge." He had noticed a rather immaturely formed girl with dark, lustrous eyes once or twice in the dooryard of a little white house in the same lane where he had found lodgment, and had met her once on the village street and half surmised she might be this mysterious violinist. He gave little thought to it, however, for his new position and the open path to success and possible riches that seemed before him was enough to put cave-seeking maids, however charming, out of his mind. Then, too, he had not quite recovered from Ethel Sherman. When Sunday came, a new, and in a way pleasurable, experience came with it. His landlady, Mrs. Moore, a widow whose two sons were away on a long fishing voyage, and who seemed so afraid of her solitary boarder as to no more than ask if he wanted this or that during his lonely meals, now appeared to gain courage with the advent of the Lord's day. "I'd be pleased, sir," she said humbly, "if ye'd attend sarvice with me at the meetin'-house this morning."