estless at first." Then with one deep breath she changed the subject.
"I wonder, Edna, if we're going to need a new cook stove this summer?"

Miss Derwent rose to the fascinating bait. She considered it enchanting
to live in a house where she could be acquainted with the cook stove;
and Miss Martha felt that she had sheered off the thin ice upon solid
ground at last.

Arriving in Portland, they took a carriage and drove about, attending
to their list of errands, in that charmed air which makes the
procession of doctors' signs which lines Congress Street appear an
incomprehensible paradox to the exultant, anticipating summer folk.

At last the little party boarded the island steamer, and though a light
fog blew in from the sea, it failed to dampen the spirits of Miss
Derwent and her chaperon. Even Jenny, the cook, drew a blanket shawl
around her, and remained on deck. There was a certain stalwart
fisherman at Hawk Island whose image had not been blotted out by the
pale suitors of her winter.

The deep roar of the breakers below Anemone Cottage had been wont to
have a depressing effect on Mrs. Derwent, and was one of the chief
causes of the devout relief she experienced in bidding a permanent
farewell to Hawk Island. The green field which lay at the back of the
house, in front billowed across to masses of rock leading sixty feet
downward to the bottle-green water, churned at this point into a
constant unrest by its never ceasing attack upon the gray confusion of
points and ledges.

Calm as the sea might be, it never fell entirely quiet here; and as the
wind and tide rose, the seething and spouting of foam and spray
whitened the entire coast, the rising and bursting of the breakers
being accomplished with a thunderous booming which was inspiring music
in Miss Derwent's ears.

To-day Benny Merritt was at the wharf with a carriage to meet the
newcomers, and he drove them to the cottage under a running fire of
questions from Miss Derwent, to which his slow drawl replied with
relish.

Miss Lacey was a necessary accompaniment to Miss Derwent, and she
therefore dwelt in a reflected light, which made her fussy catechisms
and exactions endurable.

"Oh, hear it, hear it!" cried Edna, as the horse pulled up the green
ribbon road which led to the cottage. "It's always high tide when I
come. I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Hear it, Miss Lacey."

"How can I help hearing it?" returned Miss Martha mildly.

"Isn't it supe