"I don't know what to make of that," said Margaret. "I don't believe in such stuff at all, but you couldn't make it up, for you didn't know."
"I only know that I played the violin last night, as he played it, and while I played he came through the woods from the direction of Carney's. It was summer and all the flowers were in bloom. He wore gray trousers and a blue shirt; his head was bare, and his face was beautiful. I could almost touch him when he sank."
Margaret Sinton stood perplexed. "Well, I don't know what to think of that!" she ejaculated. "I was next to the last person who saw him before he was drowned. It was late on a June afternoon, and he was dressed as you describe. He was bareheaded because he had found a quail's nest before the bird began to brood, and he gathered the eggs in his hat and left it in a fence corner to get on his way home; they found it afterward."
"Was he coming from Carney's?"
"He was on that side of the quagmire. Why he ever skirted it so close as to get caught is a mystery you will have to dream out. I never could understand it."
"Was he doing something he didn't want my mother to know?"
"Why?"
"Because if he was, he might have cut close the swamp so he couldn't be seen from the garden. You know, the whole path straight to the pool where he sank can be seen from our back door. It's firm on our side. The danger is on the north and east. If he didn't want mother to
