riority of the Point Quinton Light would be
mentioned. But Captain David never knew of it. He tended and loved the
Light with a fatherly interest. It was his life's trust, and David was
a poet, an inarticulate poet, who spoke only through his shining Light.
The government was his master. David thought upon the government in a
personal way and served it reverently.

Then an artist had discovered Quinton-by-the-Sea. He took a painting of
it back to the restless town, a painting full of color of dune, sea,
bay, and hundred-toned Hills, with never a tree to stay the progress of
the unending breezes. That was sufficient! The artist was great enough
to touch the heart and Quinton was doomed to be famous! But it was only
the beginning now. Every house in the village had opened its doors to
the strangers; and every pocket yawned for possible dollars. Tents were
pitched in artistic arrangement on the Hills, but the hotel was not yet.
Managers waited to see if the fever would last. While they waited, the
village folk reaped a breathtaking harvest. Mrs. Jo G., the only woman
who had lived at the Life Saving Station in her own home, packed up and
went "off," with baggage and children, to open the old farmhouse on the
mainland and take boarders. Before going she left food for Billy to
digest.

"This be Janet's chance," she said, standing with her hands on her hips,
and her sunbonnet shading her fair, pinched face--nothing ever tanned
Mrs. Jo G. "She can turn in an' help wait on table, or she kin take in
washin'. It won't hurt her a mite. Washin' will have t' be done, an' the
city folks will pay. Janet can make them fetch and carry their own duds.
She can stand on her dignity; an' wash money is as good as any other."

Billy experienced a distinct chill at this last proposition. Why, he
could hardly have told. During Janet's babyhood and early childhood he
had assumed all household duties himself. Later he and Janet had shared
them together over tub and table, but that Janet should wash for the
boarders was harrowing!

"You think she's too good, Cap'n," sneered Mrs. Jo G., "but she ain't.
She's wild, an' she ought t' get her bearin's. She ain't any different
from my girls nor the others, though you act as if you thought so. You
ain't as strong as you once was, Cap'n, an' come the time when you pass
in your last check, who's goin' t' do for Janet? An' how's she goin' t'
know how t' do fur herself? You ain't actin' fair by the girl.