Jess Hutton, Philosopher.
"I'll take your advice and do just what you say," replied Winn eagerly, his spirits once more raised to their normal level by this quaint philosopher, and as it was late in the evening and the mention of fiddle recalled Jess Hutton's hobby, he added: "You have lifted a load off my mind, and now please give me a few tunes, Mr. Hutton. I feel like hearing some music."
And Jess the genial, to whom his fiddle was wife, child, friend, and companion, once more drew it forth, and as Winn lighted a fresh cigar and leaned back to enjoy it, again as before was he charmed by the old man's art.
And that spell wrought by "Money Musk," "Fisher's Hornpipe," "The Devil's Dream" and such old-time dance tunes that followed in quick succession carried Winn back to his boyhood days and out of the turmoil and strife of city life, and once more he felt himself in the old farm barn with lanterns swinging aloft and a score of country lads and lassies keeping step with him to the same lively measures. He could see their happy faces and the sparkle of their eyes as "balance and swing," "do-see-do" and "all promenade" echoed from the rafters. He could even feel the supple waist and warm handclasp of the willing maid who danced with him, and when the evening of simple but unalloyed delight was over, came the long walk home with that same farmer's daughter while the moonlight silvered the landscape and the rustling leaves in the maple lane, tinkling like tiny bells beneath their feet. Gone were all the hectic years of city life, the stab of Ethel Sherman, the distrust of Jack Nickerson, and the humiliation of the years with Weston & Hill. Gone, too, all his present dread and the fog that for weeks had obscured his course. Once more he felt full of young courage with success and riches almost within his grasp. Then as the evening waned and Jess Hutton's fingers strayed to the old sweet love songs of Scotland and "Robin Adair" and "Annie Laurie" whispered the burden of their affection, the tender eyes of Mona and the wild rock-walled gorge where he had first heard her play the same songs touched his heart. With this memory, so sweet in a way, came a heartache. When the evening was ended and he, having thanked Jess for the good cheer in words and music, betook himself to Rock Lane, he paused a moment in front of Mona's home. Not a light was visible, not a sound except the low murmur of the distant sea. Only a few seconds he stood there, looking and thinking, and then kept on to his room.
The mood of the church bells was with him still.