"Eh--what say'?" Mr. Savage inquired from a phase of hypnosis induced by a glimpse of Good Form in a tailored skirt of white corduroy. "Nobody of any consequence in this mob," his sister paraphrased, yawning delicately. "Oh," he responded with an accent of doubt. But the white corduroy vanished round a shoulder of the deck-house, and he bestirred himself to pay a little attention to Sally. "There's the Island," he said, languidly waving a hand. "That white-pillared place there among the trees--left of the lighthouse--that's Aunt Abby's." Sally essayed a smile of intelligent response. Not that the Island failed to enchant her; seen across a fast diminishing breadth of wind-darkened blue water, bathed in golden mid-morning light, its villas of delicious grey half buried in billows of delicious green, its lawns and terraces crowning fluted grey-stone cliffs from whose feet a broad beach shelved gently into the sea, it seemed more beautiful to Miss Manvers than anything she had ever dreamed of. But what was to be her reception there, what her status, what her fortunes? "I've been thinking," Mrs. Standish announced when a sidelong glance had reassured her as to their practical privacy, "about Miss Manvers." "I hope to Heaven you've doped out a good one," Savage interrupted fervently. "In the cold grey dawn it doesn't look so good to me. But then I'm only a duffer. Perhaps it's just as well; if I'd been a good liar I might have married to keep my hand in. As it is, I never forget to give thanks, in my evening prayers, for my talented little sister." "Are you finished?" Mrs. Standish inquired frigidly. "I'd better be." "Then, please pay close attention, Miss Manvers. To begin with, I'm going to change your name. From now on it's Sara Manwaring--Sara without the _h_." "Manwaring with the _w_ silent, as in wrapper and wretch?" Savage asked politely. For Sally's benefit Mrs. Standish spelled the word patiently. "And the record of the fair impostor?" Savage prompted. "That's very simple. Miss Manwaring came to me yesterday with a letter of introduction from Edna English. Edna sailed for Italy last Saturday, and by the time she's back Aunt Abby will have forgotten to question Miss Manwaring's credentials." "What did I tell you?" Mr. Savage wagged a solemn head at Sally. "There's Art for you!" "She comes from a family prominent socially in"--Mrs. Standish paused a fraction of a second--"Massillon, Ohio--" "Is there any such place?" "Of course--" "What a lot you do know, Adele!" "But through a series of unhappy accidents involving the family fortunes was obliged to earn her own living." "Is that all?" "Isn't it enough?" "Plenty. Simple, succinct, stupendous! It has only one flaw." "And that, if you please?" Mrs. Standish demanded, bristling a trifle. "It ain't possible for anyone to be prominent socially in a place named Massillon, Ohio. It can't be done--not in a place I never heard of before."