uggestion of Skipper John Blue. Suffer she did--that deeply; but she
sighed in secret and husbanded her patience with what stoicism she
could command. There were times, twilight falling on the world of sea
and rock beyond the kitchen window, with the last fire of the sun
failing in the west like a bright hope--there were hours when her fear
of the issue was so poignant that her decision trembled. The weather
mellowed; the temptation gathered strength and renewed itself
persistently--the temptation discreetly to accept the aid of artifice.
After all, what matter? 'Twas surely a thing o' small consequence. An'
who would ever hear the least whisper about it? For a long time Peggy
Lacey rejected the eager promptings of her love--clenched her little
red fists and called her pride to the rescue; and then, all at once,
of a yellow day, having chanced to glance out of the window and down
the harbor in the direction of Cottage Point, and having clapped eyes
on a sight that pinched and shook the very heart of her, she was
changed in a twinkling into the Siren of Scalawag Run.

Peggy Lacey sped forthwith to Skipper John, whom she found alone in
his kitchen, oiling his sealing-gun.

"Father John," she demanded, "what's all this I sees goin' on on the
tip o' Cottage Point?"

Skipper John glanced out of the wide kitchen window.

"Ah," said he, "that's on'y young Dickie at labor. He've selected
that pretty spot an' is haulin' his lumber afore the snow's gone."

"Haulin' his lumber?" Peggy gasped.

"Mm-m."

"Haulin' l-l-lumber!"

"Mm-m. I sees he've ol' Tog in harness with the rest o' the dogs.
Well, well! Tog's too old for that labor."

"Who's the maid?"

"Maid!"

"What's he haulin' lumber for?"

"I 'low he's haulin' lumber jus' for the same reason that any young
fellow would haul lumber for in the Spring o' the year."

"'Tis a new house, isn't it?"

"Ay; 'tis a new house. He've been plannin' t' build his house this
long time, as you knows very well, an' now he've gone at it in a
forehanded way."

"Well, then," Peggy insisted, finding it hard to command breath for
the question, "who's the maid?"

"No maid in particular that I knows of."

"Well, I knows!" Peggy flashed. "'Tis the new schoolmistress from
Grace Harbor. That's who 'tis!"

"Ah-ha!" said Skipper John.

"Yes, 'tis! She've cotched his fancy with her eyeglasses an' grammar.
The false, simperin', titterin' cat! Oh, poor Dickie Blue!"

"Whew!"

"She