"I don't know," Sally replied slowly, "what I should do. I've thought about it and I don't know." Mrs. Ladue's hand went up to her heart involuntarily, and she made no reply for some time. "Drifting?" she asked at last. Sally looked toward her mother and smiled. "Drifting, I suppose. It's much the easiest." Mrs. Ladue's hand was still at her heart, which was beating somewhat tumultuously. "Don't, Sally! Don't, I beg of you. Your whole life's happiness depends upon it. Remember your father. Everett's principles are no better than his, I feel sure. You have been so--so sturdy, Sally. Don't spoil your life now. You will find your happiness." She was on the verge of telling her, but she checked herself in time. That was Fox's business. He might be right, after all. "This mood of yours will pass, and then you would wear your life out in regrets. Say that you won't do anything rash, Sally." "Don't worry, mother. It really doesn't matter, but I won't do anything rash. There!" She laughed and kissed her mother. "I hope that satisfies you. You were getting quite excited." Mrs. Ladue had been rather excited, as Sally said. Now she was crying softly. "You don't know what this means to me, Sally, and I can't tell you. I wish--oh, I wish that I had your chance! You may be sure that I wouldn't throw it away. You may be sure I wouldn't." She wiped her eyes and smiled up at Sally. "There! Now I am all right and very much ashamed of myself. Run along out, dear girl. You don't get enough of out-of-doors, Sally." So Sally went out. She meant to make the most of what was left of the short winter afternoon. She hesitated for a moment at the foot of the steps. "It's Fisherman's Cove," she said then quite cheerfully. "And I don't care when it gets dark or anything." CHAPTER XII Fisherman's Cove was a long way from Mrs. Stump's boarding-house, but that fact gave Sally no concern. And Fisherman's Cove was much changed from the Cove that Uncle John used to tell her about, where he had been used to go to see the men haul the seines. Its waters had been fouled by the outpourings of a sewer, and the fish had deserted them years before; but that would not make the ice any the less attractive with a young moon shining upon it.