"Well"--the boy hesitated for words to express his pleasure--"we can stand it if you can," he finished.

"All right, Benny," she laughed. "Get to Gull Point as quick as you can. I've just one idea now, and that's the telephone. Good-by." She waved her hand as he set the sail and took his oars to pull into the wind.

Sylvia saw him nod and smile back. Then that happened on which she had counted. The stranger came up into the path, and without seeing the watcher, walked swiftly away.

Sylvia had seen no home in the vicinity beside the farmhouse, and the familiar mention of Miss Lacey made it doubly certain that this low-voiced stranger, this girl whose broad _a_'s and lack of _r_'s sounded oddly upon Sylvia's Western ears, was going fast as her trim feet could carry her to Thinkright's home. A strange feeling beset Sylvia. The newcomer's perfect costume, the a.s.surance and refinement of her manner, even the unconscious adoration in Benny's sea-blue eyes, all pointed to a superiority which made Sylvia vaguely resentful of her.

What Miss Lacey had she been talking about? Aunt Martha, of course.

Hadn't Cap'n Lem spoken of her also? What was she to this girl,--this raven-haired, charming girl who was n.o.body's despised niece?

Sylvia's heart beat hotly, and she began to run. Why was she wasting time when she wished to see what sort of reception would be accorded this stranger? Possibly, even, she was a favorite with Judge Trent. The thought gave Sylvia a forlorn pang, but she hurried on. Soon she again caught sight of the newcomer, who was pa.s.sing out of the woods and starting up the incline that led to the house. Sylvia at once began to move slowly, her feet noiseless on the gra.s.s.

Cap'n Lem and Thinkright now came in view, returning from the barn, and Sylvia's eyes grew large as she heard the stranger's gay cry and the men's response.

They hastened down the hill to meet her. Cap'n Lem took her bag while she laughingly received their surprised welcome, and she threw her arms around Thinkright's neck and kissed him. Neither of the three observed Sylvia, who followed at a distance until they went inside and the house door closed upon them.

Pausing, to wonder and speculate, the chill of the evening made the girl shiver. The door had shut her out. She felt lonely and forlorn.

CHAPTER X

CAPITULATION

When Sylvia finally drew near the kitchen she heard talking and laughing within. Turning the handle and opening the door, a happy domestic scene was revealed, of which the strange girl was the centre.

Her hat and jacket were lying on a calico-covered couch, a large ap.r.o.n enveloped her cloth gown, and she was wiping the dishes as Mrs. Lem washed them at the sink. Minty was running back and forth putting them away. Thinkright and Cap'n Lem were seated near the stove, and as the door opened a burst of laughter escaped from them at some remark of the visitor.

At sight of Sylvia's white face her cousin arose.

"I was just beginning to wonder where you were, little girl," he said kindly. "I want you to know Miss Edna Derwent. This is my cousin, Sylvia Lacey, Edna."

The latter came forward, holding in one hand a plate and towel, while she offered the other to Sylvia's cold acceptance.

"I'm fond of the name of Lacey," said the visitor, smiling into the other girl's grave eyes with the same gay, sweet expression that a few minutes ago had rested on Benny the boatman. Thinkright noted the quick hardening of Sylvia's face.

"Your Miss Lacey is aunt to this one, Edna," he said, "but Sylvia doesn't know Miss Martha yet. She has lived in the West all her life."

Mrs. Lem's sharp ears absorbed this information.

"Your aunt keeps house for Miss Derwent in the summer time at her cottage on Hawk Island," he went on, turning to Sylvia.

"I have a mother who unfortunately doesn't like the island, Miss Lacey," explained Edna, returning to the sink. "Take this plate, Minty, please."

"Guess you want another wiper, too, don't yer?" asked the child.

"I'll take as many as you'll give me," responded Miss Derwent. "I'd like a fresh wiper every two plates; but don't you encourage me, Minty, or I shan't be popular with your mother. Fill up the kettle, too, there's a dear. I'm a reckless scalder. Why, the stove lid's under that kettle. I wondered why it wasn't hotter."

"Wait till I find the hooker," cried Minty, diving down under the stove in search of the iron.

"Minty Foster, how many times have I told you never to take that hooker off the string?" said her mother reprovingly.

"I jest wanted it to crack nuts with," explained Minty, as she fished the lifter out triumphantly.

"Well, don't you never untie it again!" responded her mother severely.

"Yes, you'll crack it some day," remarked Edna, "and then what would you do, miles from a hooker as you are? I was telling you, Miss Lacey, that I have a mother with only one foible,--she doesn't like our island. You will see what heresy it is when you come over there. So Miss Martha has taken pity on me the last few summers, and I think she loves it as much as I do."

Sylvia's embarra.s.sment was painful, as the speaker paused, looking at her in the natural expectation of a response.

"I don't know her," was all the reply her lips could utter.

"Then perhaps you will meet her first at my house," returned Edna brightly. "That would be very pleasant for me, I'm sure. I should enjoy the novelty of making near relatives acquainted."

"I shan't be here when she comes," responded Sylvia quickly.

"Indeed? Why, I'm sorry. I supposed you were to be a summer guest. You know Judge Trent, of course."

Sylvia's hot blush under the innocent question caused her cousin to come to the rescue again.

"No, even though he is her uncle," he said. "Strange state of things, isn't it?"

"Her uncle, and Miss Lacey her aunt?" returned Miss Derwent. "I never knew they were related."

"They aren't. It's the two sides of the house, you see."

"Miss Sylvy's the missin' link," put in Cap'n Lem, softly slapping his knee and shaking his head while his eyes closed tightly. "Don't look it, does she?"

"Now, Cap'n, don't git another spell o' the shallers," put in Mrs. Lem as the old man's chuckles threatened a crescendo.

"But you see I got ahead of the other relations," went on Thinkright.

"I am her mother's cousin, and I put in my claim first."

"Oh, you'll like Judge Trent so much," said Edna, looking at the grave face in its aureole of curls. "He is a dear, but n.o.body dares to tell him so. By the way, Thinkright," the quaint name fell charmingly from the girl's lips as she turned to him, "I hear that a man I used to know, a Mr. Dunham, has gone into Judge Trent's office."

"So you know Dunham, do you?" returned her host.

"Yes, for a long time we saw a great deal of each other. Then Harvard for him and Va.s.sar for me drifted us apart, but we have a lot of mutual friends, and while I was in New York the past winter a girl wrote me mournfully of his departure from Boston."

"I don't blame her for mourning," said Thinkright kindly,--"do you, Sylvia?" turning to the young girl, who was mortified to feel her color mounting again. "Sylvia knows Mr. Dunham."

"How stupid of him! Oh, how stupid of him!" was Sylvia's angry thought.

"I met him once only, on business," she said briefly.

Her manner and the blush mystified Miss Derwent.