The suggestion Jess had made regarding the scarcity of money on Rockhaven was plainly evident to Winn, now that he had become acquainted. It made him feel that his firm's enterprise was almost a godsend to the island, and that first Saturday night when his men gathered, as requested, at Jess Hutton's store, and secured their pay, Winn, who in his time had also felt the need of more money, found it a keen pleasure to pay these needy men their earnings. When they had departed and he and Jess were alone, the worthy man who seemed to feel a share of the general satisfaction, beamed with good nature.

"Money makes the mar' go," he said, "an', as the Irishman said, 'it's swate Saturday night and sour Monday morning.' Ye've made a fine start, Mr. Hardy, an' if things go well an' this 'ere company o' yourn don't bust up, ye'll cum pretty near bein' the hull thing here. There's an old saying here that 'It's time to dry fish when the sun shines,' an' now with your sun shinin' it's purty good wisdom for ye to dry all the fish ye kin. Things are onsartin in this world, an' there's no tellin' when a sunny day's comin'. I'm goin' ter help yer all I kin, an' out o' good will toward ye, 'n' hope things'll turn out all right. I'm sartin it won't be yer fault if they don't."

"I'm glad to feel I've won your confidence, Mr. Hutton," answered Winn, "and I feel sure there is no need of fearing any collapse of this company. They are reputable business men, and have ample means; granite is in good demand in the city, and certainly they would not have invested in the quarry and set out to develop it, unless it was to make money."

"Wal, mebbe," answered Jess, after a long pause, "an' I'm goin' to think so. Distrustin' don't help matters, an' for the sake o' those men who hev gone home happy to-night, I hope things'll turn out as ye 'spect."

Winn looked depressed, and for reason. To have the one man in Rockhaven whose confidence he valued most express a word of distrust hurt.

"Oh, I ain't doubtin' you a mite," continued Jess, "an' no reason to mistrust yer consarn, only I've had squalls hit me when least 'spectin' 'em, 'n' so got into the habit o' watchin' out fer 'em. It's jist as well in this world, 'n' then ye ain't quite so likely to be caught nappin'. Now t'other day ye mentioned the matter o' sellin' stock to us folks here, an' that is all right, only it sorter 'curred to me if this consarn o' yourn 'spected to make money quarryin' here, thar wa'n't no real reason why they should want ter divide it with us folks, which is what sellin' us stock 'mounts to in the end, an' as old Cap'n Doty would say, 'hence my 'spicions.' I've hed a good many ups 'n' downs in this world," he continued, in a philosophic tone, "an' while I allus try to look on the bright side o' trouble, an' when it comes am glad 'tain't any wuss, I've larned to be keerful—mighty keerful. Human natur's slippery stuff, an' money a dum sight more so, an' every storeman allus puts the best apples on top o' the basket. I've bought and paid for a mighty lot o' 'sperience 'bout mankind, an' all I've got to show for most on't is the 'sperience. I've picked up a little money, too, 'tween times, but the only reason I hev, was 'cause I got sight on't 'fore the other feller did. I like you, Mr. Hardy, fust-rate, on so short acquaintance, an' know yer honest 'n' all right, but the side-whiskered feller who blew in here last summer 'n' bought this yer quarry offhand—wal, I mean no disrespect to yer firm, but in my humble 'pinion he'd bear watchin'. Now I'm goin' ter stand by ye in this matter 'n' do all I ken to help you make a go on't, an' if ye'll trust me all the time, ye won't regret it."

It was a pleasant assurance, but the cloud on Winn's face remained. He had from the outset hoped to interest this old man, who he realized held the key of Rockhaven, as it were, and whose opinion of his mission there, and the merits of Rockhaven stock as an investment, would without doubt be accepted by others as final. His own belief in it was optimistic, and beyond that it meant to him a success in business and an avenue to prosperity that included all wealth meant to any one. So far in life he had been but a mere menial, a poorly paid drudge, a slave to so many hours a day. Now he was at once elevated to the management of men and money, and assumed that it would be to his credit and necessary that he interest the people and induce them to invest their money. For these reasons the lack of confidence on Jess Hutton's part meant discouragement.

"Ye mustn't mind my notions," Jess said at last, reading Winn's face; "I mean to help ye, 'n' I will, only as I said I'm a leetle skeery o' yer consarn. Ef things go on right fer a spell, I most likely'll feel different. I've got pinched in schemes afore, an' grown cautious. Faith, ez the parson says, is a mustard seed 'n' needs time to sprout. We'll watch thet air mustard seed o' yourn, 'n' gin it time ter sprout. Now, to sorter drive away your blues an' mine, I'm goin' to fiddle a spell; ye won't mind, will ye?"

"I should be delighted," answered Winn, with sudden eagerness, "I have heard you were an expert with a violin. Mr. Weston said you were." He did not deem it wise just then to say who else had stated that fact.

Without further comment, Jess brought out his violin.

"Fiddlin's to me," he said, as he turned it up, "a good deal ez licker used to be to old Bill Atlas, a cure-all fer everything from death to the toothache. Bill was quite a case in his day, an' said licker was made fer the purpose o' drownin' sorrow. He drowned his purty stiddy in't anyhow, an' finally was driv' to his death by the tremens."

Then he began and fiddled away for an hour, his eyes closed, his kindly face glowing with the pleasure of his own art, and one foot keeping time on the floor. And, to Winn's surprise, his selections were all of Scotch origin, and the liveliest of those best of all harmonies. From one to another he skipped, a medley of those old tunes that have lived as no other nation's music ever did or ever will live, because none other has quite the same life and soul.

And Winn, listening as that quaint old man fiddled away, forgot his troubles, carried to fair Scotland's banks and braes, where Wallace bled, Prince Charlie fought, and Bonnie Dundee rallied his henchmen to give battle, and, too, Winn heard the love plaint of many a Scotch lad and lassie, centuries old, and yet reaching his heart as they always did and always will all human kind. And as, entranced, he lived once more in the olden days of chivalry and love faithful unto death, he thought of Mona and how she had touched the same chord in his heart only a few hours before.

And when Jess had tired of his pastime, and Winn, on his way to his solitary room in Rock Lane, passed the white cottage next to it, he halted a moment, wondering if Mona was asleep, or if not, was she thinking of him.

For such is man, and so do the rose petals of love first unclose.

Mona.