a short yelp. Bart, annoyed by the sound, picked up a bit of
driftwood and hurled it at him, missing him by a few inches. The
narrowness of the escape silenced the dog and sent him to the rear with
drooping tail and ears.

Bart should have minded Meg's warning. A broad beach in the full glare
of the setting sun, even when protected by a House of Refuge, is a poor
place to be alone in.

A woman was passing along the edge of the bluffs, carrying a basket in
one hand and a green umbrella in the other; a tall, thin, angular
woman, with the eye of a ferret. It was Ann Gossaway's day for visiting
the sick, and she had just left Fogarty's cabin, where little Tod, with
his throat tied up in red flannel, had tried on her mitts and played
with her spectacles. Miss Gossaway had heard Meg's bark and had been
accorded a full view of Lucy's back covered by Jane's red cloak, with
Bart sitting beside her, their shoulders touching.

Lovers with their heads together interested the gossip no longer,
except as a topic to talk about. Such trifles had these many years
passed out of the dress-maker's life.

So Miss Gossaway, busy with her own thoughts, kept on her way unnoticed
by either Lucy or Bart.

When she reached the cross-road she met Doctor John driving in. He
tightened the reins on the sorrel and stopped.

"Lovely afternoon, Miss Gossaway. Where are you from--looking at the
sunset?"

"No, I ain't got no time for spoonin'. I might be if I was Miss Jane
and Bart Holt. Just see 'em a spell ago squattin' down behind the House
o' Refuge. She wouldn't look at me. I been to Fogarty's; she's on my
list this week, and it's my day for visitin', fust in two weeks. That
two-year-old of hers is all right ag'in after your sewing him up;
they'll never get over tellin' how you set up all night with him. You
ought to hear Mrs. Fogarty go on--'Oh, the goodness of him!'" and she
mimicked the good woman's dialect. "'If Tod'd been his own child he
couldn't a-done more for him.' That's the way she talks. I heard,
doctor, ye never left him till daylight. You're a wonder."

The doctor touched his hat and drove on.

Miss Gossaway's sharp, rasping voice and incisive manner of speaking
grated upon him. He liked neither her tone nor the way in which she
spoke of the mistress of Yardley. No one else dared as much. If Jane
was really on the beach and with Bart, she had some good purpose in her
mind. It may have been her day for visiting, and Bart, per