"The Sound isn't rough," replied Edna; "but we'll all be good girls and write letters. Come down to the Fir Ledges with us, Miss Lacey. We'll write there." "Thank you, I've outgrown that," replied Miss Martha briskly. "Sit with your heels higher than your head, and no decent place to lean, and just at the most important moment have the wind double your paper over or blow it away. No, thank you; but there's room at the table for all of us if you'll be sensible." The table was a round one placed in an angle of the spacious piazza, which had been glassed in as protection from the prevailing wind. Here Miss Martha was wont to gather her writing materials, and with her back to the view, not for fear of its temptations, but in order to get a better light, indite many an underlined epistle to her friends at home. She sometimes had Edna's company, but that could not be to-day. The young hostess was enjoying too much exhibiting the charms of her beloved habitat to the guest who thrilled in such responsive appreciation at the moments and places where others had often proved disappointing. "No bribe could induce us to be sensible," was Edna's response to Miss Lacey's suggestion. "We are going to the Fir Ledges, and there is no knowing when you will see us again." "Oh, yes, there is," returned Miss Martha dryly. She was seating herself for her enjoyable morning. She was going to send Selina Lane some of Jenny's receipts. "There will be halibut and egg sauce, lemon meringue pie, and various other things served in this house at 1.30," she went on, "and I have an idea that you'll take an interest in them." Edna and Sylvia exchanged a thoughtful look. "Perhaps we may," said Edna. "I'm sure of it," added Sylvia with conviction. Miss Lacey's satisfied laugh followed the pair down the woodland road, and she looked after them. "Everything has turned out so well," she thought. "I remember how this summer stood up in my mind as one of the obstacles to letting Sylvia come to me, for I didn't see where I could leave her while I came to Hawk Island,--and now, just look. I really do think Edna has taken a fancy to the child, though even _I_ can't always judge of Edna's feelings by her actions." Miss Martha looked fixedly at the side of the house, her pen poised in her hand. She was weighing the question as to whether it would be well to mention to Selina Lane her niece's presence at Anemone Cottage. If she spoke of her, it might lead in future to embarrassing questions; if she did not speak of her, Selina was liable to learn of Sylvia from some other source; for no way had yet been discovered of permanently concealing anything from Miss Lane, and that spinster, so fond of jumping at conclusions that she frequently overleaped them, would be sure to decide that Miss Martha was ashamed of her niece.