h its
protecting top and sides and glass wind-shield, was in its winter dress.

"Yes'm, 'tis a little chilly, Miss," said John, in answer to her
greeting, as he tucked the heavy robes about her.

"Oh, well, I shall be very comfortable, I'm sure," smiled Billy. "Just
don't drive too rapidly, specially coming home. I shall have to get a
limousine, I think, when my ship comes in, John."

John's grizzled old face twitched. So evident were the words that were
not spoken that Billy asked laughingly:

"Well, John, what is it?"

John reddened furiously.

"Nothing, Miss. I was only thinkin' that if you didn't 'tend ter haulin'
in so many other folks's ships, yours might get in sooner."

"Why, John! Nonsense! I--I love to haul in other folks's ships," laughed
the girl, embarrassedly.

"Yes, Miss; I know you do," grunted John.

Billy colored.

"No, no--that is, I mean--I don't do it--very much," she stammered.

John did not answer apparently; but Billy was sure she caught a
low-muttered, indignant "much!" as he snapped the door shut and took his
place at the wheel.

To herself she laughed softly. She thought she possessed the secret now
of some of John's disapproving glances toward her humble guests of the
summer before.

CHAPTER XII. SISTER KATE

At the station Mrs. Hartwell's train was found to be gratifyingly on
time; and in due course Billy was extending a cordial welcome to a tall,
handsome woman who carried herself with an unmistakable air of assured
competence. Accompanying her was a little girl with big blue eyes and
yellow curls.

"I am very glad to see you both," smiled Billy, holding out a friendly
hand to Mrs. Hartwell, and stooping to kiss the round cheek of the
little girl.

"Thank you, you are very kind," murmured the lady; "but--are you alone,
Billy? Where are the boys?"

"Uncle William is out of town, and Cyril is rushed to death and sent his
excuses. Bertram did mean to come, but he telephoned this morning that
he couldn't, after all. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you'll have to make
the best of just me," condoled Billy. "They'll be out to the house
this evening, of course--all but Uncle William. He doesn't return until
to-morrow."

"Oh, doesn't he?" murmured the lady, reaching for her daughter's hand.

Billy looked down with a smile.

"And this is little Kate, I suppose," she said, "whom I haven't seen for
such a long, long time. Let me see, you are how old now?"

"I'm eight. I'v