fortable red, and began measuring
calico in a great hurry; only, as she had turned her work round,
and was doing it all over again, it was rather wasted labour. A
thought had flashed into her mind that perhaps this good, kindly
man had heard some of the talk which was coupling the names of Miss
Selincourt and Jervis Ferrars, and so had told her this about Mary
of set purpose.

"Thank you for telling me," she said; then went on hurriedly: "I am
so glad to know. It explains why sometimes Mary does not look
happy. I had thought it just boredom and discontent."

"Most people would think so, but that is just because they don't
understand her. She is made of fine, good stuff at the bottom,
only sometimes it is rather hard to get at. This week she will be
perfectly happy and charming to live with, because she will have to
be at the fish sheds all the time, checking the incoming boats; and
next week she will be down in the dumps, because she has nothing in
the world to do."

"That at least is a complaint that I am in no danger of suffering
from," laughed Katherine, as, realizing that she had been working
twice on the calico, she folded it up and started on another length.

"And I have been wasting your time in a fearful fashion; but
perhaps you will forgive me, because I like talking to you so
much," he said, rising from his seat and laughing, as he looked at
his watch, to think how the morning had flown. "Now I will go and
talk to your good father for a little while, and then I will
whistle for Pierre to come over and row me down to Seal Cove for
lunch with Mary, to round off the morning."

Katherine rushed about the store with great vigour and much
bustling energy after the visitor had betaken himself outside. Of
course he had wasted her morning to a serious extent, but what
mattered arrears of work compared with the peace of mind the talk
had brought her? Never once since the day on which her father had
confided to her the secret trouble which was weighing him down had
Katherine been so light-hearted. Now, at least so far as she was
concerned, that trouble, even the remembrance of it, might be put
away for ever. Mr. Selincourt had said that he owed a debt of
gratitude to the person who had wronged him; so plainly there was
no question of making up to him for any loss that he had suffered.
True, the wrong was there, and nothing could undo the sin which had
been committed; but it was the sinner who had suffere