was to be done, Bart always found the way to do it. She waited
until he had fitted the new bright key into the rusty lock, her hand in
his.

"Now, come inside," he cried, swinging wide the big doors. "Isn't it a
jolly place?" He slipped his arm about her and drew her to him. "See,
there's the stove with the kindling-wood all ready to light when
anything comes ashore, and up on that shelf are life-preservers; and
here's a table and some stools and a lantern--two of 'em; and there's
the big life-boat, all ready to push out. Good place to come Sundays
with some of the fellows, isn't it? Play all night here, and not a soul
would find you out," he chuckled as he pointed to the different things.
"You didn't think, now, I was going to have a cubby-hole like this to
hide you in where that old spot-cat Martha can't be watching us, did
you?" he added, drawing her toward him and again kissing her with a
sudden intensity.

Lucy slipped from his arms and began examining everything with the
greatest interest. She had never seen anything but the outside of the
house before and she always wondered what it contained, and as a child
had stood up on her toes and tried to peep in through the crack of the
big door. When she had looked the boat all over and felt the oars, and
wondered whether the fire could be lighted quick enough, and pictured
in her mind the half-drowned people huddled around it in their
sea-drenched clothes, she moved to the door. Bart wanted her to sit
down inside, but she refused.

"No, come outside and lie on the sand. Nobody comes along here," she
insisted. "Oh, see how beautiful the sea is! I love that green," and
drawing Jane's red cloak around her, she settled herself on the sand,
Bart throwing himself at her feet.

The sun was now nearing the horizon, and its golden rays fell across
their faces. Away off on the sky-line trailed the smoke of an incoming
steamer; nearer in idled a schooner bound in to Barnegat Inlet with
every sail set. At their feet the surf rose sleepily under the gentle
pressure of the incoming tide, its wavelets spreading themselves in
widening circles as if bent on kissing the feet of the radiant girl.

As they sat and talked, filled with the happiness of being alone, their
eyes now on the sea and now looking into each other's, Meg, who had
amused himself by barking at the swooping gulls, chasing the sand-snipe
and digging holes in the sand for imaginary muskrats, lifted his head
and gave