stand." The young man gave a tentative glance around at the
house.

"Oh, they're not in. Miss Derwent is never in, unless it storms the way
it did yesterday, and then she's liable to be in oilskins hanging on to
some rock and scaring me out of my seven senses. Sylvia's just like
her. They were both out yesterday."

"I'm glad to learn that your niece is strong enough for that," returned
Dunham.

Miss Lacey made a gesture. "She did it, anyway." She lowered her voice
to a confidential pitch. "Haven't things worked around wonderfully, Mr.
Dunham?" The speaker drew back, giving him a significant look.

"How do you mean?" asked Dunham cautiously.

"Since that day we were at Hotel Frisbie. I haven't dared look to see
how many new gray hairs that week gave me, and here we are, all so calm
and happy. Miss Derwent being so kind and hospitable to Sylvia, and
none of my doings at all. You see, it would have been such an
impossible thing for me to suggest that my niece should visit here, but
it came around in the most natural way through Thinkright."

"It is fine," returned Dunham. Sylvia's name still meant for him only
the dew-laden eyes that beseeched him as he left her at the Association
that day in Boston. He felt some curiosity as to how Miss Lacey had
finally made her peace, and he felt sure that she would like to tell
him; but the younger Miss Lacey's affairs were none of his.

"I'm sorry not to find Miss Derwent," he said.

"Oh, you'll find her," returned Miss Lacey briskly. "You will stay to
dinner with us, of course."

"Certainly not," returned Dunham quickly.

"Why, you will. We have it at noon, you know."

"In these togs?" asked John incredulously--"Miss Derwent?"

"Oh, hers aren't any better," returned Miss Martha. "That's the island
fashion."

"No,--I'll go to the--what did you say? There's some sort of a hotel
here, isn't there?"

"Yes. Some sort," returned Miss Lacey, "but not your sort. Don't say
another word about it, Mr. Dunham. Why, Miss Derwent would be
scandalized,--an old friend like you. You said you were, didn't you?"
she added, with sudden questioning.

"Yes, so old that I shall be new," returned Dunham, smiling. "I only
hope she'll remember me."

"Why didn't Judge Trent come with you? We should have been very pleased
to see him at dinner, too," said Miss Lacey, with a little excess of
formality.

"I did ask him, but he said he wasn't tired of terra firma yet."

"Has he come to stay?