"Well, well, that's all right, child," returned the other hastily. "I think there's everything here to make you comfortable. The bathroom's here, between your room and mine; and if there's anything you want that you don't see, just let me know." She went out and left Linda standing there, her wide gaze fixed on the open sea and ships. Islands were but distant scenes from the Cape. Here the granite cliffs rose high and higher. She could get glimpses along the shore of their hollows, which soon would shelter luxuriant deep-pink wild roses, but now waved with snowy daisies, flirting with the foam which ever sought to reach them. An hour afterward she went downstairs, and found Mrs. Porter sitting with a book in the glassed-in end of the veranda. "See? I've been saving this hammock for you," said Mrs. Porter, looking up. Linda stood still and smiled, looking with fascinated eyes at the sea. Mrs. Porter remained quiet, watching the girl's face grow grave. "It's very wonderful after the city, isn't it?" she asked at last. "Yes. The noise on the avenue was constant, then the banging and confusion of trains. This is like being born into a new world. I was wondering just now if Father felt that same great contrast and peace when he waked up." "I'm sure he did," replied Mrs. Porter. She said no more to urge her friend to lie down, but dropped her book and took up some sewing that lay on the table beside her. Pretty soon Linda came over to the hammock and seated herself on its edge, and at that moment Miss Barry appeared with an armful of neglected bon-bon boxes. "This is day before yesterday's candy," she announced, "but most of them haven't been opened at all, and any that you don't want will find a market in the neighborhood." The speaker raised her eyebrows significantly. Mrs. Porter smiled. "Poor little Blanche Aurora, for instance. She's been a good little helper." "You don't mean to say she hasn't broken dishes." "Well, not so very many, really. She's been very much excited over your home-coming." When Jerry came with the trunks, his sea-blue eyes regarded Linda with respectful interest, while he shook hands with her aunt. "Ye look some faded, Belinda," he remarked. "I'll pick up," was the reply. "This is my niece, Cap'n Holt." Linda brought her absent-minded gaze back with a start, realizing that the "expressman" was being introduced to her. He put out his rough hand kindly, and she saw by his expression that he was acknowledging her bereavement. She put her hand in his in silence. "Cap'n Holt knew your father, Linda," said Mrs. Porter. The girl's eyes met his. "Did you work for my father?" she asked. "Dunno 'bout that," was the good-humored response. "I was the oldest, and I guess mebbe he worked fer me some."