honest soul was both vexed and
anxious concerning her charge. She found Columbine extraordinarily
reticent. As she herself put it, it was impossible to get any sense out
of her.

In compliance with the doctor's order and by the exercise of extreme
self-restraint, she refrained from questioning her upon the matter of
her behaviour on the night of the great tide. That Columbine would have
enlightened her had she done so was exceedingly doubtful. But there was
no doubt that something very unusual had taken place. The little white
roses that Rufus presented as a daily offering would have told her that,
apart from any other indications. She would have questioned Rufus, but
something held her back; and Adam, when urged thereto, flatly refused to
interfere.

Adam, rejuvenated and jubilant, went whistling about his work as of
yore. His boy had come back to him in the flesh, and he was more than
satisfied to leave things as they were.

"Leave 'em alone, Missus!" was his counsel "Rufus he knows what he's
about. He'll steer a straight course, and he'll bring her into harbour
sooner or later. You leave it to him, and be thankful that curly-topped
chap has sheered off at last!"

Mrs. Peck had no choice but to obey, but her anxiety regarding Columbine
did not diminish. The girl was so listless, so unlike herself, so
miserable. It was many days before she summoned the energy to dress, and
even then she displayed an almost painful reluctance to go downstairs.
She seemed to live in continual dread of some approaching ordeal.

"I believe it's Rufus she's afraid of," was Mrs. Peck's verdict.

But Adam scouted the idea as absurd. "What will you think of next,
woman? Why, any one can see as he's quiet and well-behaved enough for
any lass. She's missing the curly-topped chap a bit maybe. But she'll
get over that. Give her time! Give her time!"

So Mrs. Peck gave her time and urged her not at all. She was not very
friendly with Columbine in those days. She disapproved of her, and her
manner said as much. She kept all suspicions to herself, but she could
not behave as if nothing had happened.

"There's wild blood in her," she said darkly. "I mistrust her."

And Columbine was fully aware of the fact, but she was too wretched to
resent it. In any case, she would never have turned to Mrs. Peck for
comfort.

She came downstairs at last one summer evening when Mrs. Peck was busy
in the kitchen and no one was about. She had made no menti