ey do well enough for
here."

"Looped back. Oh, I should think so," said Sylvia, pushing the folds
aside and looking down the western decline of the hill, where a wide
reach of Casco Bay came in view. Small snowy sails were flying out to
sea, like a flock of white butterflies.

"I guess the fishermen think handsome weather's set in. Them are the
mackerel boats," explained Mrs. Lem. "They ain't had a good chance for
a fortnight. It's ben so cold and homely 'twa'n't plausible for 'em to
go out." Mrs. Lem patted her pompadour.

"I can see a thousand Christmas trees from this window," said Sylvia.

"Yes, it's real sightly. Judge Trent has just the same view from his
room. It's his favorite."

Sylvia's face fell. "When does he come?" she asked.

"Oh, he comes and goes all summer. He don't make no long stay except in
August."

Here the two men with Sylvia's trunk and bag came noisily up the narrow
stairs. It was a very moderate-sized trunk as those of summer people
go, and the visitor lost some social prestige in Mrs. Lem's eyes as the
latter observed it. Moreover, Boston was not the girl's home.
Nevertheless, there was that unmistakable air of the world. Possibly
she was from wicked, fashionable, reckless New York, and being in
mourning had come here with but few possessions to recuperate.

"Wall, how are ye likin'?" asked Cap'n Lem, when they had deposited the
trunk.

He set his arms akimbo and smiled toothlessly upon the visitor. "I said
'twas Miss Lacey, didn't I?" he added to Mrs. Lem, with a delighted
wink.

"Yes, and you said somethin' else, too," retorted Mrs. Lem. "You say a
lot o' things beside your prayers."

Upon this Cap'n Lem's cackling laugh burst forth. "She don't look it,
does she?" he responded. "So ye're likin' all right, air ye, Miss
Sylvy?"

"I could sit by these windows twenty-four hours," returned the girl.

"Might git a little hungry, mebbe?"

"Yes, Mrs. Lem," put in Thinkright. "Sylvia and I have had only
sandwiches and sponge cake since this morning. We're all ready as soon
as she has washed her face."

Mrs. Lem bowed affably, and the three went out and closed the door.

Sylvia moved to the dimity-draped dresser and took off her hat. She
smiled at the memory of her recent interview. "Cousin Thinkright says
she can cook, though," she reflected. "I hope he's a judge."

CHAPTER IX

EDNA DERWENT

The supper was good, and for many weeks Sylvia had not eaten so
hungrily.