of northern skies, that lies hidden in its nest
of green leaves, silent, with no wind tossing it to and fro, but
betrayed by its sweetness.

There were other signs of spring at Salem. The whole town seemed to
burst out in house-cleaning. Parlor shutters were thrown open and
windows washed. Carpets were beaten, blankets hung out to air, those
that had been in real use washed. Women were out in gardens with
sunbonnets and gloves, a coat of tan not being held in much esteem, and
snipped at roses and hardy plants. Men were spading and planting the
vegetable gardens, painting or white-washing fences. All was stir and
bustle, and tired folk excused themselves if they nodded in church on
Sunday.

Cynthia made pilgrimages to the _Flying Star_ that had been her home for
so long. The storm had wrought great havoc with some of the shipping,
and big boys were out gathering driftwood. The _Gazette_ had some
melancholy news of "lost at sea." But Captain Corwin thought he had
weathered worse storms.

"She is picking up mightily," he said to Miss Winn, nodding toward
Cynthia. "Shouldn't be surprised if she favored her mother, after all.
Only them eyes ain't neither Orne nor Leverett. Don't let her grieve too
much when the bad news comes."

Eunice and Chilian had taken her to call on the Uphams. And though she
was quite familiar at home, here she shrank into painful shyness and
would not leave Eunice's sheltering figure.

"Children get soonest acquainted by themselves," declared Mrs. Upham. "I
suppose you will send her to school. If she's not very forward, Dame
Wilby's is best. She and Betty can go together. Why, she isn't as tall
as Betty--and nine, you said? Granny was talking the other day about the
time she was born. She's a real little Salem girl after all, though
she's got a foreign skin, and what odd-colored hair! We've started Polly
to Miss Betts. I want her to learn sewing and needlework, and she's too
big now to company with such children. Why, I was almost a woman at
twelve, and could spin and knit with the best of them. Miss Eunice, I
wish you'd teach her that pretty openwork stitch you do so handy.
Imported stockings cost so much. They say there's women in Boston doing
the fancy ones for customers. But I tell Polly if she wants any she must
do them herself."

Mrs. Upham had a tolerably pleasant voice. She always talked in
monologues. Betty edged around presently and would have taken Cynthia's
hand, but the child la