nge story.

He learned how the _Michleen_ had been wrecked on the Wilton Shoals in
the memorable gale of 1910; how the child's father had perished with
the ship, leaving his little daughter friendless in the world; how
Zenas Henry and the three aged captains had risked their lives to bring
the little one ashore; and how the Brewsters had taken her into their
home and brought her up. It was a simple tale and simply told, but the
heroism of the romance touched it with an epic quality that gripped the
listener's imagination and sympathies tenaciously. And now the waif
snatched from the grasp of the covetous sea had blossomed into this
exquisite being; this creature beloved, petted, and well-nigh spoiled
by a proudly exultant community.

For although legally a member of the Brewster family, Willie explained,
the girl had come to belong in a sense to the entire village. Had she
not been cast an orphan upon its shores, and were not its treacherous
shoals responsible for her misfortune? Wilton, to be sure, was not
actually answerable for the crimes those hidden sand bars perpetrated,
but nevertheless the fisherfolk could not quite shake themselves free
of the shadow cast upon them by the tragedies ever occurring at their
gateway. Too many of their people had gone down to the sea in ships
never to return for them to become callous to the disasters they were
continually forced to witness. The wreck of the _Michleen_ had been
one of the most pathetic of these horrors, and the welfare of the child
who in consequence of it had come into the hamlet's midst had become a
matter of universal concern.

"'Tain't to be wondered at the girl is loved," continued Willie. "At
first people took an interest in her, or tried to, from a sense of
duty, for you couldn't help bein' sorry for the little thing. But
'twarn't long before folks found out 'twarn't no hardship to be fond of
Delight Hathaway. She was livin' sunshine, that's what she was!
Wherever she went, be it one end of town or t'other, she brought
happiness. In time it got so that if you was to drop in where there
was sickness or trouble an' spied a nosegay of flowers, you could be
pretty sure Delight had been there. Why, Lyman Bearse's father, old
Lyman, that's so crabbed with rhumatism that it's a cross to live under
the same roof with him, will calm down gentle as a dove when Delight
goes to read to him. As for Mis' Furber, I reckon she'd never get to
the Junction to d