chartered to load with quarried stone came
into the harbor and alongside the little wharf in front of the quarry,
almost a breeze of excitement seemed to ripple through the village. The
women whose husbands were working there came down to see the loading,
children wanted to climb aboard the vessel, and even the Rev. Jason Bush
spent hours watching the massive blocks as they were swung on board. Old
Jess Hutton left his store, and the people to help themselves, every
afternoon, and perched on a convenient outpost, looked on. Only Mona
kept away, and when one evening Winn asked her why, she colored slightly
and replied, "It hurts me a little to see that old ledge Uncle Jess used
to own being blasted and carried off."

It wasn't her only reason, though a part of it; the rest was of such a
nature that Mona kept it locked in her breast. For the good natives of
Rockhaven, as well as others, had noticed that Winn always walked with
her going and coming from church and had commented upon it, and Mona had
heard of their comments.

Winn was not her lover as yet, she felt, and not likely to be. She could
not and would not avoid walking and talking with him, but she could
avoid seeming to pursue him over to the quarry. It was all due to a
remark Mrs. Moore had made in a neighborly way.

"I like Mr. Hardy, right well," she had said one morning when Mona
brought in a fresh bunch of June roses and asked that she put them in
his room, "an' if I was a young gal like you, I'd set my cap for him. It
looks as if you had, a-bringin' him fresh posies, an' if ye keep it up
the right way, an' don't let him make too free with ye, ye kin. It 'ud
be a great catch for ye if ye did."

After that Mona brought no more flowers for Winn's room, but her mother,
observant ever, and world-wise in a way, did so, and Winn never knew the
difference.

When the second load of stone had been shipped, and the July sun had
begun to shrivel the scanty grass in Mrs. Moore's dooryard, her two
sons sailed into the harbor one day to spend a Sunday there. They were
browned by the sea-winds and redolent of its crisp odors, and when Winn
came back from the quarry at supper time he found them there.

"I hear ye're blowin' up an' carryin' off our island," said David, the
oldest, on being introduced, "an' it's a good thing. The rock ain't o'
much account an' most on't is in the way. Thar ain't room 'nough
'longside o' the water here to dry fish, let alone settin' up h