a little salad, or fruit
and whipped cream, or fal-lals of that sort. We must have roasts and
steaks now, besides what my father used to call Cape Cod
turkey,--that's codfish, my dear. Jenny's boiled cod and egg sauce is
perfectly delicious, and fish does make brains, they say. I suppose
Judge Trent would like to have us feed it to Mr. Dunham."

"I hope you don't intend to tell the house party that," remarked
Sylvia.

Miss Martha giggled. "Well, things are comparative. Judge Trent is so
surpassingly clever, and when you see this great big fellow in the
office with him you can't help thinking of quality and quantity, you
know; but he must have an average mind anyway, or your uncle wouldn't
have any use for him. There they come now."

Two slow-moving figures appeared among the trees, and advanced to the
piazza. "Welcome, wanderers," went on Miss Martha, repressing a yawn.
"I think I shall bequeath Sylvia to you now, and retire."

Her niece knew that no implication of reproach was intended in this
speech, but she dreaded that the others might misunderstand.

"I don't need to be bequeathed to any one," she declared. "I'm like
that poet who said he was never less alone than when alone. Fancy being
lonely on this island in the company of these stars and waves and
pines! Edna, when you wish to move your family away, and leave the
cottage in the care of a hermit, I speak to be the hermit."

"I see you are properly captured," returned Edna.

"She's fallen in love with the cook stove now," remarked Miss Martha.
"I told her she'd had a couple of spies on her doings."

Edna glanced at her guest. Sylvia's smiling, inquiring eyes looked from
her to John, who spoke:--

"Yes, there you were stirring some mysterious caldron," he answered;
"there in the dark of the moon, and there was something so fiery about
your countenance and attitude that we didn't dare remain."

"You were wise," returned Sylvia. "I thought I felt some presence.
Didn't you hear me say,--

'By the pricking of my thumbs
Something wicked this way comes'?"

"Well, we're expecting to benefit by your labors in time," said John.

"I wish I thought you would," returned Sylvia dreamily.

"Oh, don't be so modest. Let us judge, anyway."

"I've no doubt you would be a judge," said the girl meditatively.

"Say will be," he corrected.

Sylvia lifted her shoulders with a little gesture of dread.

"I haven't positively made up my mind that I dare try i