village. This is a little
white house on the harbor shore, half way between Glen St. Mary and
Four Winds Point. It's a little out of the way, but when we get a
'phone in that won't matter so much. The situation is beautiful. It
looks to the sunset and has the great blue harbor before it. The
sand-dunes aren't very far away--the sea winds blow over them and the
sea spray drenches them."

"But the house itself, Gilbert,--OUR first home? What is it like?"

"Not very large, but large enough for us. There's a splendid living
room with a fireplace in it downstairs, and a dining room that looks
out on the harbor, and a little room that will do for my office. It is
about sixty years old--the oldest house in Four Winds. But it has been
kept in pretty good repair, and was all done over about fifteen years
ago--shingled, plastered and re-floored. It was well built to begin
with. I understand that there was some romantic story connected with
its building, but the man I rented it from didn't know it."

"He said Captain Jim was the only one who could spin that old yarn now."

"Who is Captain Jim?"

"The keeper of the lighthouse on Four Winds Point. You'll love that
Four Winds light, Anne. It's a revolving one, and it flashes like a
magnificent star through the twilights. We can see it from our living
room windows and our front door."

"Who owns the house?"

"Well, it's the property of the Glen St. Mary Presbyterian Church now,
and I rented it from the trustees. But it belonged until lately to a
very old lady, Miss Elizabeth Russell. She died last spring, and as
she had no near relatives she left her property to the Glen St. Mary
Church. Her furniture is still in the house, and I bought most of
it--for a mere song you might say, because it was all so old-fashioned
that the trustees despaired of selling it. Glen St. Mary folks prefer
plush brocade and sideboards with mirrors and ornamentations, I fancy.
But Miss Russell's furniture is very good and I feel sure you'll like
it, Anne."

"So far, good," said Anne, nodding cautious approval. "But, Gilbert,
people cannot live by furniture alone. You haven't yet mentioned one
very important thing. Are there TREES about this house?"

"Heaps of them, oh, dryad! There is a big grove of fir trees behind
it, two rows of Lombardy poplars down the lane, and a ring of white
birches around a very delightful garden. Our front door opens right
into the garden, but there