"Lace counter? Right this way, sir. Yes, sir. Just over there. Our--er--Miss Bostwick will serve you, sir. Forward!" The wind and sun had heightened Tunis Latham's naturally florid complexion to about as deep a red as can easily be imagined, but he felt the back of his neck and his ears burning as he approached the counter to which he was directed. A girl had detached herself from a group at the farther end, and now came toward him. All that he first saw clearly, however, was a pair of eyes staring at him from behind the counter. They were not violet eyes. The girl who owned those twinkling, needle-sharp eyes was nothing like that girl he had been thinking of so much since his previous visit to Boston. She was rather small, dressed in the extreme mode in a cheap way, wearing a tawdry gilt chain, several rings, and a wrist watch. There was something about her which reminded Tunis very strongly of the girls of Portygee Town, although she was a pronounced blonde. Her hair was really her only attractive possession. Those sharp brown eyes did not please Tunis Latham at all. And there was a certain smart boldness in her manner, too, which caused him a distinct feeling of repugnance. He plunged into his errand with all the boldness that a bashful man usually displays when he finally gets his courage to the sticking point. "You are Miss Bostwick?" he asked. "What kind of lace--goodness! Who are you?" asked the girl, her stilted, saleslady manner changing to amazement with surprising suddenness. "I live at Big Wreck Cove. I guess you've heard of it," said Tunis. "Big Wreck Cove? Do tell!" Her eyes danced. "You're from down on the Cape, then. I guess you want some lace for your wife. What kind did she send you for?" Tunis brushed this aside bluntly. "I don't want any lace," he told her. "I come from your aunt, Mrs. Ira Ball." "My aunt? Fancy!" "She has heard about you," went on Tunis. "I guess she thought a heap of your mother. She--she'd like to see you, Mrs. Ball would." The girl patted her hair into place with a languid hand. Her lips parted in a teasing smile. This "hick" really amused her. "Just to think! Would she?" she drawled. "Is she in town?" "Who? Mrs. Ball? I should say not. She's down at Big Wreck Cove, I tell you." "Oh, really? I thought by the way you spoke she was outside--in her car." She tossed her head with that same tantalizing smile, almost a grimace. "What did you want to tell me?" Tunis realized that he could not talk to her here, after all. The idle girls at the end of the counter were already whispering, and their smiles were poignant javelins of ridicule. The captain of the _Seamew_ knew that he was far beyond his depth. "Where can I talk to you?" he asked. "I get away for my lunch hour in a few minutes. I could talk to you then. But us girls ain't supposed to entertain our friends at the counter." She flashed him another amused and quite comprehending glance.