few more days went by; and then Mrs. Wishart began to mend; so much
that she insisted her friends must not shut themselves up with her. "Do
go down-stairs and see the people!" she said; "or take your kind aunt,
Lois, and show her the wonders of Appledore. Is all the world gone yet?"

"Nobody's gone," said Mrs. Marx; "except one thick man and one thin
one; and neither of 'em counts."

"Are the Caruthers here?"

"Every man of 'em."

"There is only one man of them; unless you count Mr. Lenox."

"I don't count him. I count that fair-haired chap. All the rest of 'em
are stay in' for him."

"Staying for him!" repeated Mrs. Wishart.

"That's what they say. They seem to take it sort o' hard, that Tom's so
fond of Appledore."

Mrs. Wishart was silent a minute, and then she smiled.

"He spends his time trollin' for blue fish," Mrs. Marx went on.

"Ah, I dare say. Do go down, Mrs. Marx, and take a walk, and see if he
has caught anything."

Lois would not go along; she told her aunt what to look for, and which
way to take, and said she would sit still with Mrs. Wishart and keep
her amused.

At the very edge of the narrow valley in which the house stood, Mrs.
Marx came face to face with Tom Caruthers. Tom pulled off his hat with
great civility, and asked if he could do anything for her.

"Well, you can set me straight, I guess," said the lady. "Lois told me
which way to go, but I don't seem to be any wiser. Where's the old dead
village? South, she said; but in such a little place south and north
seems all alike. _I_ don' know which is south."

"You are not far out of the way," said Tom. "Let me have the pleasure
of showing you. Why did you not bring Miss Lothrop out?"

"Best reason in the world; I couldn't. She would stay and see to Mrs.
Wishart."

"That's the sort of nurse I should like to have take care of me," said
Tom, "if ever I was in trouble."

"Ah, wouldn't you!" returned Mrs. Marx. "That's a kind o' nurses that
ain't in the market. Look here, young man--where are we going?"

"All right," said Tom. "Just round over these rocks. The village was at
the south end of the island, as Miss Lois said. I believe she has
studied up Appledore twice as much as any of the rest of us."

It was a fresh, sunny day in September; everything at Appledore was in
a kind of glory, difficult to describe in words, and which no painter
ever yet put on canvas. There was wind enough to toss the waves in
lively style; and when t