"Oh, what a _place_--what _funny_ people!" cried Nancy to the stars as she leaned that night far out of her window. "How can I _stand_ it! And why does not something happen quickly? It's just _like_ Aunt Sabrina not to say a word and to keep me on pins and needles! That's the same way she treated Aunt Milly and that poor boy--years ago!" Thereupon Nancy let her fancy wander back to the "gay-spirited, extravagant" brother and his story--Anne's grandfather. Had _he_ cared, she wondered, had he died longing to see again the old Island home, or had it been a blessing--casting him out in the wide world. He must have met fortune somewhere, for Anne's father had been wealthy. Dear Anne--Nancy picked out the star that was farthest in the East and addressed it reverently. "If you can see Anne and she can see you will you tell her that she mustn't feel cross at the mess I've made of things. I tried to be careful but I'm me and, anyway, all the ignorance of her blessed peasants isn't any worse than the pride and narrowness of her own relatives! Good-night, dearest Anne, for the last time I go to sleep in my prison walls--to-morrow I die!" However, the June sunshine of the next morning restored much of Nancy's courage. She made quick note of a few good signs, and best of these was when she surprised B'lindy vigorously tacking a cushion upon Miss Milly's chair. B'lindy did not see Nancy and Nancy tip-toed away with a smile. Then, too, the glow was back in Miss Milly's face, and when Nancy ran into her room, her hands full of roses, Miss Milly greeted her eagerly. "I think the sun is shining to-day just for me," she laughed, waving her hand to the windows from which the blinds had been drawn. "And _I_ think," and Nancy cocked her head knowingly, "that B'lindy will force an attack with the enemy about mid-day!" Nancy was right in her prediction. At dinner B'lindy, clad in her customary checked gingham apron, served them veal stew and delicious fluffy dumplings, but after the shortcake she appeared without it, and with a broad-brimmed hat pinned well down over her sharp features. Nancy checked an exclamation; Miss Sabrina's lips twisted ever so slightly, though not a word came from them. B'lindy assumed an added note of defiance by placing her hands on her hips. "I guess the dishes can wait 'til the cool of the afternoon," she said, trying to make her tone casual. "I'm goin' to take Miss Milly for her airin'." One might have thought that there was nothing out of the ordinary in B'lindy's announcement, beyond perhaps, the leaving of the dinner dishes, but a tense moment followed, when one pair of steely eyes bored into another pair, just as hard. And Nancy, a little frightened, realized, with a sort of breathlessness, that she, was witnessing the invisible conflict of two strong wills. One must weaken--and she dropped her eyes, for she was swept by a moment's pity.