her a
vision of a new and rather disturbing Randy--a Randy who, striding
across the Hunt Room with high-held head, had delivered her fan, and
had, later, asked for an explanation.

"How did he get it, Becky?"

She had told him.

"Why didn't you tell me when I came back and said I would go for it?"

"I was afraid he might still be there."

"Well?"

"And that something might happen."

Something had happened later by the fountain. But Randy did not speak
of it. "I saw the fan in his hand and asked for it," grimly, "and he
gave it to me----"

On the night before she went away, Randy had said, "I can't tell you
all that you mean to me, Becky, and I am not going to try. But I am
yours always--remember that----" He had kissed her hand and held it
for a moment against his heart. Then he had left her, and Becky had
wanted to call him back and say something that she felt had been left
unsaid, but had found that she could not.

Admiral Meredith met his granddaughter in New York, and the rest of the
trip was made with him.

Admiral Meredith was as different from Judge Bannister in his mental
equipment as he was in physical appearance. He was a short little man,
who walked with a sailor's swing, and who laughed like a fog-horn. He
had ruddy cheeks, and the manners of a Chesterfield. If he lacked the
air of aristocratic calm which gave distinction to Judge Bannister, he
supplied in its place a sophistication due to his contact with a world
which moved faster than the Judge's world in Virginia.

He adored Becky, and resented her long sojourn in the South. "I
believe you love the Judge better than you do me," he told her, as he
turned to her in the taxi which took them from the train to the boat.

"I don't love anybody better than I do you," she said, and tucked her
hand in his.

"What have they been doing to you?" he demanded; "you are as white as
paper."

"Well, it has been hot."

"Of all the fool things to keep you down here in summer. I am going to
take you straight to 'Sconset to the Whistling Sally and keep you there
for a month."

"The Whistling Sally" was the Admiral's refuge when he was tired of the
world. It was a gray little house set among other gray little houses
across the island from Nantucket town. It stood on top of the bluff
and overlooked a sea which stretched straight to Spain. It was called
"The Whistling Sally" because a ship's figure-head graced its front
yard, the buxom half o