To tell or not to tell! She was still balancing her pen and the question when a firm tread crunched the gravel behind her, and turning she beheld a man advancing to the steps. He was dressed in outing flannels, and his cap was presumably in his pocket. At least he had none on his head. Miss Lacey rose with a start and hurried to the steps. "Why, Mr. Dunham, I was never so surprised in my life!" she exclaimed. He smiled. "I was told that you would look more kindly upon a surprise party at ten in the morning than at ten at night," he answered. His eyes were level with Miss Martha's as she stood two steps above him on the piazza, and he pressed her hard, little, unresponsive hand. But if her hand was hard her heart was not, and it was with much appreciation of the visitor's attractive personality that she urged him to take his choice of the piazza chairs. "This is a great place," he remarked, as she fluttered back to her table, and he dropped on the piazza rail. "I've never been on the islands before,--only sailed past them." "But how did you get here so early? Were you at the Island House all night?" "Not at all. When Mr. Johnson returned on Friday he found Judge Trent and myself in possession. This morning I went out with Cap'n Lem to his pound, so was ready for an early start over here; and it surely is a great place." Dunham looked off upon the rolling billows breaking in snow here and there above unseen ledges. "Your clothes are wet. You had a rough sail." "In spots, yes; but it's rather sheltered between here and the Tide Mill. You're looking well, Miss Lacey." "Who wouldn't in such a place," she rejoined; "and just think, Mr. Dunham, my niece is here." "So I understand." The young man gave a tentative glance around at the house. "Oh, they're not in. Miss Derwent is never in, unless it storms the way it did yesterday, and then she's liable to be in oilskins hanging on to some rock and scaring me out of my seven senses. Sylvia's just like her. They were both out yesterday." "I'm glad to learn that your niece is strong enough for that," returned Dunham. Miss Lacey made a gesture. "She did it, anyway." She lowered her voice to a confidential pitch. "Haven't things worked around wonderfully, Mr. Dunham?" The speaker drew back, giving him a significant look. "How do you mean?" asked Dunham cautiously. "Since that day we were at Hotel Frisbie. I haven't dared look to see how many new gray hairs that week gave me, and here we are, all so calm and happy. Miss Derwent being so kind and hospitable to Sylvia, and none of my doings at all. You see, it would have been such an impossible thing for me to suggest that my niece should visit here, but it came around in the most natural way through Thinkright."