woman who lived with Lynde had a certain refinement about her. He
preferred her unsmiling dourness to vulgar garrulity.

"Are you the young minister up at Rexton?" she asked bluntly.

"Yes."

"I thought so. Lynde said she had seen you on the shore once.
Well"--she cast an uncertain glance over her shoulder at the
house--"I'm much obliged to you."

Alan had an idea that that was not what she had thought of saying, but
as she had turned aside and was busying herself with the pails, there
seemed nothing for him to do but to go.

"Wait a moment." She faced him again, and if Alan had been a vain man
he might have thought that admiration looked from her piercing eyes.
"What do you think of us? I suppose they've told you tales of us up
there?"--with a scornful gesture of her hand in the direction of
Rexton. "Do you believe them?"

"I believe no ill of anyone until I have absolute proof of it," said
Alan, smiling--he was quite unconscious what a winning smile he had,
which was the best of it--"and I never put faith in gossip. Of course
you are gossipped about--you know that."

"Yes, I know it"--grimly--"and I don't care what they say about the
Captain and me. We are a queer pair--just as queer as they make us
out. You can believe what you like about us, but don't you believe a
word they say against Lynde. She's sweet and good and beautiful. It's
not her fault that she never went to church--it's her father's. Don't
you hold that against her."

The fierce yet repressed energy of her tone prevented Alan from
feeling any amusement over her simple defence of Lynde. Moreover, it
sounded unreasonably sweet in his ears.

"I won't," he promised, "but I don't suppose it would matter much to
Miss Oliver if I did. She did not strike me as a young lady who would
worry very much about other people's opinions."

If his object were to prolong the conversation about Lynde, he was
disappointed, for the old woman had turned abruptly to her work again
and, though Alan lingered for a few moments longer, she took no
further notice of him. But when he had gone she peered stealthily
after him from the door until he was lost to sight among the pines.

"A well-looking man," she muttered. "I wish Lynde had been home. I
didn't dare ask him to the house for I knew Anthony was in one of his
moods. But it's time something was done. She's woman grown and this is
no life for her. And there's nobody to do anything but me and I'm not
able, even if