d Sylvia, looking from the rugs on the floor to
the cushions in the window-seats.

"Yes, it is," said Edna. "It's a fine port in a storm, but in all
decent weather we scorn it."

Sylvia went to a window. A rocky path led between the symmetrical firs
down toward the shore where far below boomed the noisy surf.

"And how is the boat, Sylvia?" asked Miss Martha.

"It's a joy," replied the girl, looking around brightly.

"Oh, yes, your boat," said Edna. "I'm going to invite myself over on
purpose to row with you. Miss Lacey has told me all about it and its
mysterious name."

Her eyes twinkled at Sylvia.

"It is--very mysterious," returned the latter, laughing.

Miss Lacey gave a quick nod. "I'm going to ask Judge Trent what it
means when he comes," she declared.

"Fie, Miss Martha! How indiscreet!" laughed Edna. "Can't he have a
little undisturbed flirtation with his best girl?"

She was surprised at the suddenness and depth of Miss Lacey's blush,
but the little woman bustled out to the dining-room and shortly
announced dinner.

It seemed to Sylvia that she had never been so hungry and that food had
never tasted so delicious. She remarked upon it somewhat
apologetically, and Edna laughed at her. "My dear girl, it's the way of
the place," she said. "Of course we eat nothing prosaic here. These
potatoes grew at the Mill Farm, these lobsters were swimming this
morning. This lamb, I'm afraid, was skipping around only a few days ago
on Beacon Island. This salad grew just over the fence from that daisy
field we passed through this morning,--and so on."

For dessert they had a deep huckleberry pie.

"How's this, Sylvia, eh?" asked Thinkright, after the first juicy
mouthful. "I thought Mrs. Lem was pretty good at it."

"It is perfect," returned Sylvia, "but how we shall look!" she added.

"Don't worry," said Edna. "I always keep a box of tooth-brushes
upstairs for wanderers trapped just as you are. Of course it is a good
pie. These berries were growing on the shore of Merriconeag Sound
yesterday, and Miss Lacey and I picked them ourselves. Weren't we a
happy, disreputable pair, Miss Martha? Our dresses were stained, our
fingers were a sight, and our lips,--I'll draw a veil! We both would
have done so then if we'd had any."

Sylvia listened, smiling. In her preoccupation she let her fork veer
away from her plate.

"Oh!" she ejaculated regretfully. "See what I've done!" A drop of the
rich dark juice had fallen o