"H'm. Their bones beginning to show yet?" Mrs. Porter laughed. "If it is as you say, why shouldn't Miss Luella advertise a reducing establishment? I'm sure it would pay." The speaker's cheer covered a pang. Linda's slenderness and pallor spoke eloquently, and made her forget the girl's probable injustice to Bertram King. Linda had made but one visit before to the Cape. That was ten years ago, when her aunt's cottage was first built. It had been a flying trip with her father and mother, and she had slight recollection of the place. Her mother had cared more for mountains than sea, and Linda had visited them on both sides of the ocean. It was now to a practically new place that the motor was carrying her. She straightened herself with interest when the settlement came in sight, and her large gaze sought for the little house that had been her father's gift of love to his sister. Mrs. Porter saw her eagerness. "Just about three minutes away now," she said. "Is that it? The brown one?" asked the girl as they neared the rocky point. "Yes, the Gull's Nest," replied Mrs. Porter. "I don't know what Miss Barry calls it, but how could it have any other name?" "Lambert was always telling me to name it and he'd give me some writing paper, stamped." "And why didn't you?" "I did." Miss Barry tossed her head a little toward the welcoming waves. "What is it?" asked Mrs. Porter eagerly. "Oh, no matter," returned Miss Belinda. "You haven't told? Do you mean you haven't _told_?" Mrs. Porter's eyes twinkled at the proof of New England reticence. "What's in a name, anyway?" returned Miss Belinda evasively. Her niece regarded the flush on her aunt's thin cheek wistfully, and wondered what bit of sentiment she was concealing. The wonder heightened the interest with which she entered the cottage. The little house was unexpectedly roomy within. Lambert Barry had given his sister _carte blanche_ as to coziness, provided she would have room enough for him and his when they could arrange to come; but the nearness to the great diapason of the waves had repelled his wife, and after he lost her the engrossed business man could make only flying visits to the scenes of his childhood. There were the rooms, however, and Linda was soon led to hers. "It's the one I always called your father's room, Linda," said Miss Barry, as she ushered her in. Mrs. Porter, after brief explanation of her preparations, had remained below stairs to leave them alone. Linda looked from the windows on the limitless ocean, dotted with distant sails; on the fleecy islands of cloud in a sky as blue, as limitless. She turned back to her companion. A look of satisfaction had overspread her aunt's wan face. "You've been very good to me, Aunt Belinda," she said deliberately. "I've known it all the time, but I shall appreciate it more and more."