"There's no use talking," her husband said emphatically. "I cannot so easily forget what the Griffin said. He was talking about his own son. Ten thousand dollars was stolen and wasted in the bucket shops along the fringe of the financial district. I believe it is the truth, for I have talked with some of the boys who cover the district and they declare Joe Bassett was hanging about certain brokers' offices down there for some weeks after his father turned him out." "I hate to believe it," murmured Mrs. Cameron. "The young fellow is all wrong. He's such an attractive chap that I don't wonder Barzilla Ball is interested in him. Perhaps I should put a flea in his ear." "Don't do that, Lewis!" cried his wife. "I admit that, in this case, you are not your brother's keeper; neither is it your duty to tell tales out of school that may injure the poor fellow. Now, promise me!" "I am sure," said Mr. Cameron, "that I do not wish to say anything to hurt Joe Bassett. Let others find out about him, as we did." "And did we find out the truth, I wonder?" Carolyn's mother thought. But she did not utter this aloud. * * * * * When Mr. Cameron came to the island the next time, he brought with him Edna Price to stay a week with Carolyn. There had been great preparations made for the visit of Carolyn May's "partic'lar friend," and great expectations in the little girl's mind regarding that visit. By this time Carolyn was quite used to the little oddities of speech, characteristic of the native Block Islander. She knew that they looked upon people from off the island, too, as being quite as foreign as though they came from Europe! Being born and bred upon a bit of land quite disconnected from the mainland, breeds an oddly independent and aloof people--a people who are prone to have their own peculiar outlook upon life and to hold almost a code of morals of their own. Carolyn was widening her acquaintance every day with the neighbours. There was a cross-country path over stiles and through stone fences, winding through the various farms from Dorris Cove to the Free Baptist Church, and everybody who passed the house took toll of Carolyn May's friendliness. On Sunday, before and after service, that path was dotted with members of the congregation who almost all lingered at the Ball place for a neighbourly chat. Week days there were occasional passersby who followed the footpath along the edge of the bluff, beaten originally by the feet of the coast patrol. Had it not been the season when the life saving service men, with the exception of the captain of the crew who lived at the station all the year round, were relieved from duty, Carolyn would have already added the surfmen to her growing list of acquaintances.