ey's nostrils dilated. "Well," she ejaculated, "all is I know
if I'd mar--that is," she added faintly, "I'm glad Laura didn't live to
see this day. He has a great deal less excuse than I have, Mr. Dunham,
and I have little enough." Miss Martha finished with sincere feeling.
"You tell Judge Trent for me, Mr. Dunham, that he had better go to that
farm himself."

CHAPTER XII

A LOST OAR

Mrs. Lem's awe of the new Miss Lacey was short-lived. The fact that she
came out of that vague locality known as the West seemed to soothe the
housekeeper's latent suspicion that the young girl might be "big
feeling." Sylvia was reticent even in the presence of Edna Derwent, and
this silence could not proceed from snobbishness; moreover, her spirits
rose after the departure of the Boston girl, and Mrs. Lem decided that
Thinkright's guest was, in spite of her slim height and the dignity of
her black garments, only a shy girl who needed encouraging.

"Do you think Miss Derwent's pretty?" she asked Sylvia after Edna had
made her adieux.

"Very," answered Sylvia, who was enveloped in the apron the guest had
worn the night before, and was awkwardly wiping dishes as the
housekeeper washed them. Minty had gone to school.

"I know folks most always think so," said Mrs. Lem, whose pompadour had
collapsed with her theories of Sylvia's New York origin; "but I don't
know," she went on judicially, "when you come to diagnose Edna's
features they ain't anything so great. Her nose wouldn't ever suit
me,--kind of insignificant."

Mrs. Lem's own feature was of the strong Roman variety. "They're just
rollin' in gold," she went on. "It's a wonder to me Edna sets such
store by Anemone Cottage when they've got such a luxuriant home in
Boston."

Sylvia listened with lowered eyes intently fixed on her work. She had
wakened this morning with a sensation of relaxation. Some habitual
tense resistance had given way. She was subdued and conscious of
relief, as if from a cessation of responsibility. She realized what
caused this as her interview with Thinkright rushed back upon her
thought. He saw through her. That was her mental admission. He did not
admire her at all, and yet for her mother's sake he would not despise
her. He had made her view herself in a totally new light.

She had promised him to try to be humble. The thought had mingled with
the sea's rhythmic lullaby as it hushed her restless soul to sleep last
night. He had offered her a new