erself, and her
determination to go her own way and spend her summer as she chose
stiffened under the lash of the lady's criticism.

"What will our friends think of you?" demanded Mrs. Conroth. "I am
horrified to have them know you ever remained overnight in such a place.
There are the Perritons. They were on the train with me coming down from
Boston. They are opening their house here at what they call The
Beaches--one of the most exclusive colonies on the coast, I understand.
They insisted upon my coming there at once, and I have promised to bring
you with me."

"You have promised more than you can perform. Aunt Euphemia," Louise
replied shortly. "I will remain here."

"Louise!"

"I will remain here with Cap'n Amazon. And with Uncle Abram when he
returns. They are both dear old men----"

"That awful looking pirate!" gasped Mrs. Conroth.

"You do not know him," returned the girl. "You do not know how worthy
and now kind he is."

"You have only known him a week yourself," remarked Aunt Euphemia. "What
can a young girl like you know about these awful creatures--fishermen,
sailors, and the like? How can you judge?"

Louise laughed. "Why, Auntie, you know I have seen much of the world and
many more people than you have. And if I have not learned to judge those
I meet by this time I shall never learn, though I grow to be as old
as"--she came near saying "as you are," but substituted instead--"as Mrs.
Methuselah. I shall remain here. I would not insult Cap'n Amazon or
Cap'n Abe, by leaving abruptly and going with you to the Perritons'
bungalow."

"But what shall I say to them?" wailed Aunt Euphemia.

"What have you already said?"

"I said I expected you were waiting for me at Cardhaven. I would not
come over from Paulmouth in their car, but hurried on ahead. I wished to
save you the disgrace--yes, _disgrace_!--of being found here in
this--this country store. Ugh!" She shuddered again.

"I am determined that they shall not know your poor, dear father
unfortunately married beneath him."

"Aunt Euphemia!" exclaimed Louise, her gray eyes flashing now. "Don't
say that. It offends me. Daddy-prof never considered my mother or her
people beneath his own station."

"Your father, Louise, is a fool!" was the lady's tart reply.

"As he is your brother as well as my father," Louise told her coldly, "I
presume you feel you have a right to call him what you please. But I
assure you, Aunt Euphemia, it