d. Still, I am sure she is several years older
than either Phil or I."

The shanty boat colony on the east side of Fisherman's Island had also
risen early on this warm morning in July. Bill crossed over to the
mainland in his sailboat to bring a Justice of the Peace back with him
to marry him to Mollie. Captain Mike was determined to have his way
with his daughter. Once she was married to Bill, her new friends would
find it difficult to get her away from him.

Since Mollie's return to the shanty boat she had made no further
outcry. She did not seem to know what was going on. The vacant,
hopeless look had come over her face. The fright and ill treatment of
the day before had completely subdued her. She seemed to have
forgotten everything.

All night long she had lain awake in her miserable berth in the dirty
shanty boat. She lay still, with her eyes closed, until the breathing
of her family told her they were fast asleep. Then she crept out on
the deck of the boat. She sat for hours without moving, her wonderful
blue eyes, with the empty look in them, staring out over the silent
waters. She was waiting, wistful and patient, for something to come to
save her. When the dawn broke, and a rosy light bathed the bay and the
sky, she rose, went quietly into the cabin and lay down in her berth
again. She stayed there while the family ate their breakfast. She
made no resistance when her step-mother came toward her, grinning
maliciously, and bearing a coarse white cotton dress, which she called
"Moll's wedding gown."

Mollie let the woman put the dress on her. She even combed her own
sun-colored hair; and, for the first time in her life, she knotted it
on her head, instead of letting it stream in ragged, unkempt ends over
her shoulders. A loose lock of hair over Mollie's low forehead covered
the ugly scar that was her one disfigurement. She was so startlingly
lovely that her stupid step-mother stared at her in a kind of
bewildered amazement. Mollie was pale and worn, and painfully thin,
yet nothing could spoil the wonderful color of her hair and eyes, nor
take away the peculiar grace of her figure. Her expression was dull
and listless. Even so Mollie looked like a lily transplanted to some
field of dank weeds, but growing tall and sweet amid their ugliness.

Mike looked at his daughter curiously when her step-mother dragged her
out before him. Brutal as he was, a change passed over his face. He
glanced