rb!" insisted Edna, looking over the miles of rocking
blue as though for the first time.

"Oh, yes, I don't mind it. That is, yes, indeed, it is splendid, Edna.
Benny, why haven't you taken off those back shutters?"

Miss Derwent laughed softly. Miss Martha often told people that the
surf did not affect her at all disagreeably, and Edna's experience had
taught her to appreciate this. After all, it was a good thing to have
some one about who could think of shutters, even though the fog had
drawn back to a low, smoke-colored fold that softly encircled the
horizon, and the gulls were cresting the waves with their white wings.

CHAPTER XVI

EVOLUTION

It was only when they had guests at the Mill Farm that a seven o'clock
breakfast was served, and as yet Sylvia was accounted one of that
privileged class. Thinkright had asked her when she arrived at what
hour it was her custom to breakfast, and she had shrugged her
shoulders.

"Father and I never liked to take it before nine o'clock," she said,
"but it made the landlady so cross that when we owed for board we
usually tried to get down by half past eight."

Thinkright smiled at this. "Here you can go to bed earlier," he
returned. "We will try breakfast at seven o'clock." Sylvia looked
somewhat aghast, and it was not for some time that she discovered what
a concession had been made in her favor.

One morning, a fortnight after Judge Trent's visit, she came out on the
stone step at the kitchen door to scent the morning, while Mrs. Lem
scoured the cooking dishes.

Cap'n Lem came along. His red face with its white fringe beamed kindly
upon her under the old straw hat.

"Wall, now, you're lookin' smaht, Sylvy," he said, as he paused.
"Beginnin' to look real kind o' sassy and rosy. I guess they use ye
pretty well here." His shrewd blue eyes twinkled at her, and he gave a
sharp nod of satisfaction. "Shouldn't wonder if you'd be gittin' up in
the mornin' some o' these days."

"Oh, I do," replied Sylvia. "It's no trouble for me any more. Mrs. Lem
let me make the coffee this morning, and we all sat down at seven
o'clock promptly. Where were you? I don't believe I've seen you at
breakfast since I've been here."

The old man's shoulders heaved in his toothless laugh. "Seven o'clock,"
he said scornfully. "Yew look through a knot-hole in your floor any
mornin' when it's handy to four o'clock and yew'll see my breakfast
doin's."

Sylvia opened her eyes, genuinely be