he lights twinkling all along the coast to the
southward, the revolving lantern at Lighthouse Point, the steady
beacon on Eagle's Head, and now and then the flash of the great one
of Monomoy Point so far away. It was peaceful, quiet, assuring, and,
the girl thought, heavenly! She thought for a moment of Sellers'
restaurant and the little room she had occupied on Hanover Street.
_This_ was contentment.

Old Pareta had brought her trunk and bag and carried them up to the
big, well-furnished room she was to occupy. By and by Prudence went
up with her to see that she was made comfortable there, and to watch
her unpack, for the old woman was not without curiosity regarding
the "city fashions."

One window of the room looked to the north. Through this Ida May saw
the steady beam of a lamp shining from a house down in what seemed
to be a depression behind the Head. She asked Prudence what that
was.

"That must be a light at 'Latham's Folly,' Tunis' house, you know,"
said the little old woman, likewise peering through the window.
"Shouldn't be surprised if 'twas right in his room. He sleeps this
end of the house. Yes, that's what it is."

"So Captain Latham lives just there?" the girl said softly.

"When he's ashore. He and his Aunt Lucretia. They are the only
Lathams left of their branch of the family."

Afterward, when Ida May had come upstairs to go to bed, she looked
to the northward again. The light was still there. She knelt by the
open window in her nightgown and watched the light for a long time.
When it finally was extinguished she crept into bed.

She heard the nasal tones of the two old people below, for her door
on the stairs was open. She heard, too, the occasional cry of a
night fowl and, in the distance, the barking of an uneasy watchdog.

But after all, and in spite of the many, many thoughts which
shuttled to and fro in her mind, she did not lie awake for long. It
was a clear and sparkling night; there were no foghorns to disturb
her dreams with their raucous warnings, and the surf along the
beaches below the Head merely scuffed its way up and down the strand
with a soothing "Hush! Hush-sh!"

At dawn, however, there came a noise which roused the newcomer to
Wreckers' Head. She awoke with a start. Something had clattered upon
her window sill, that window looking toward the north. She sat
upright in bed to listen. The clatter was repeated. In the dim, gray
light she saw several tiny objects bounding i