CASTLETON DID NOT LOOK AT ALL PLEASED
SHE HAD BROUGHT HER WONDERFUL STRADIVARIUS VIOLIN
HE KEPT THEM DAWDLING
THE FOURTH OF JULY PARADE
* * * * *
CHAPTER I
A Last Bathe
The warm, mellow September sunshine was streaming over the irregular
roofs and twisted chimneys of the little town of Chagmouth, and was
glinting on the water in the harbour, and sending gleaming, straggling,
silver lines over the deep reflections of the shipping moored by the side
of the jetty. The rising tide, lapping slowly and gently in from the
ocean, was floating the boats beached on the shingle, and was gradually
driving back the crowd of barefooted children who had ventured out in
search of mussels, and was sending them, shrieking with mirth, scampering
up the seaweed-covered steps that led to the fish market. On the crag-top
above the town the corn had been cut, and harvesters were busy laying the
sheaves together in stooks. The yellow fields shone in the afternoon
light as if the hill were crowned with gold.
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