into the world from the old home,
with no roof to shelter her head. The promptitude with which these
good people, who, though relatives, were after all complete strangers,
had offered her a resting-place touched her. "I hope I shan't be in
the way."

"Major Selby was speaking to me on the telephone just now," said Mr.
Mariner, "and he said that you might be thinking of settling down in
Brookport. I've some nice little places round here which you might
like to look at. Rent or buy. It's cheaper to buy. Brookport's a
growing place. It's getting known as a summer resort. There's a
bungalow down on the shore I'd like to show you to-morrow. Stands in
a nice large plot of ground, and if you bought it for twelve thousand
you'd be getting a bargain."

Jill was too astonished to speak. Plainly Uncle Chris had made no
mention of the change in her fortunes, and this man looked on her as a
girl of wealth. She could only think how typical this was of Uncle
Chris. There was a sort of boyish impishness about him. She could see
him at the telephone, suave and important. He would have hung up the
receiver with a complacent smirk, thoroughly satisfied that he had
done her an excellent turn.

"I put all my money into real estate when I came to live here," went
on Mr. Mariner. "I believe in the place. It's growing all the time."

They had come to the outskirts of a straggling village. The lights in
the windows gave a welcome suggestion of warmth, for darkness had
fallen swiftly during their walk and the chill of the wind had become
more biting. There was a smell of salt in the air now, and once or
twice Jill had caught the low booming of waves on some distant beach.
This was the Atlantic pounding the sandy shore of Fire Island.
Brookport itself lay inside, on the lagoon called the Great South Bay.

They passed through the village, bearing to the right, and found
themselves in a road bordered by large gardens in which stood big,
dark houses. The spectacle of these stimulated Mr. Mariner to
something approaching eloquence. He quoted the price paid for each,
the price asked, the price offered, the price that had been paid five
years ago. The recital carried them on for another mile, in the course
of which the houses became smaller and more scattered, and finally,
when the country had become bare and desolate again, they turned down
a narrow lane and came to a tall, gaunt house standing by itself in a
field.

"This is Sandringham," sai