"No, no street. Just one road which has its source in a green field on the south and loses itself in the beach on the north after it has passed the by-path that leads to the haunted farm." "Oh, go away!" scoffed Veronica. "I can't. The walking won't be good for another hour." "Who lives at the farm?" "The ha'nts." "Nobody else?" "No, it isn't likely. It's at the head of Brook Cove where the pirates used to come in at a day when it was laughable to think that passenger boats would ever touch at this island." Veronica's eyes grew rounder than before. "Do you suppose there's gold packed in around there if people could only find it?" "I don't, but a great many people thought there might be. It is much more fun to hunt for pirate gold than to go fishing in squally weather, and it has been hunted for, faithfully." "And not any found?" said Veronica sympathetically. "That's the mournful fact." "But who were the farmers, and why did they stop farming? Was it the ghosts?" "No, I think it was the rocks. It was found more profitable to farm the sea. You know abandoned farms are fashionable in New England, anyway, so the ghosts have a rather swell residence at the old Dexter place. I spent the first eight years of my life on the island. Then it was an undiscovered Arcadia. Now--why, you will go up to The Wayside Inn in a motor--that is, if I can get hold of Bill Lindsay before somebody else grabs him. Lots of people know a good thing when they see it, and lots of people have seen the island." The wharf was full of people to welcome the little steamer as it drew in, and there was a grand rush of passengers for the coveted motor. It seemed to Veronica that she heard her aunt's name on many lips, and Philip found himself feeling responsible for the trunk checks of everybody who was seeking Miss Burridge. The upshot of it all was, by the time he had safeguarded the baggage of the arrivals and sent them on their way, he and Veronica were left to climb the road and pursue the walk toward home. "Didn't that old hawk-nose say he was going to Aunt Priscilla's?" "It's a very good-looking nose," remarked Philip. "But so far as I could see, all your friends of the train were bound for the same place." "He'll be lucky," said Veronica viciously, "if I don't put Paris green in his tea. Oh, what a beautiful view of the sea!" she exclaimed as they reached the summit of the hill. They had not walked far when Bill Lindsay's Ford came whirring back over the much-traveled road, and he turned around for them. "After all," said Philip, as the machine started back up the island, "your lady of the blue veil should set off the affliction of Mephisto's presence." "Did she come?" asked Veronica delightedly. "Yes, didn't you see me pack her in with the woman whose halo won't fit? The dull boy sat between them." "Well," said Veronica, "then there's no great loss without some small gain."