In one corner of the room, half hidden by what Peggy assumed was a worktable, stood a white-haired old man. One leg was planted easily on a low stool, and cradled lovingly in his arms was a banjo. The words of his song floated quietly through the absolute stillness of the shop and Peggy suddenly realized that she was in the presence of a true artist—a man who could take a simple instrument and a familiar folk melody and weave a magic spell capable of moving an entire audience.
The song whispered to its husky, haunting conclusion, and the old man stood bowed over his instrument.
Perhaps it was Peter or maybe it was some sudden movement of hers, but the door moved forward another inch and, through the quiet, there suddenly rang a sharp tinkle of a bell. The old man with the banjo straightened up and whirled around to face the intruders.
Shielding his eyes with one hand, he advanced toward the door. “Who’s there?” he challenged. “Who is it?”
XI
A Star Comes Back
Directly in front of her, Peggy felt Peter grow tense, then suddenly relax as he shouldered his way into the shop. “Mr. Agate,” he called in a reassuring voice. “It’s all right. We don’t mean any harm.”
Tom Agate stared at them in amazement. Peggy noticed that his eyes were a bright china-blue that contrasted strongly with his fair complexion and white hair. “How—” he began. “How did you manage...?”
“To find you?” Peter said. “Well, it wasn’t easy, but this is the young lady who did the tracking down.” He reached around and brought Peggy up into the light.
Tom Agate looked at both of them in turn and then slowly chuckled. “Excuse my manners,” he said, sweeping some material from a bench. “But I’m not used to visitors up here. I’d be interested to know how you located me, Miss—”
“Peggy Lane,” Peggy said, holding out her hand. “And this is Peter Grey.”