“When I’ve been here before,” said the visitor, “I always went through the tollhouse.  But I suppose things is different now.”

“This is the entrance for visitors,” said Olive, holding open the gate.

Captain Asher had heard the voices, and had come out to his front door.  He shook hands with the newcomer, and then turned to Olive, who was following her.

“This is my niece, my brother Alfred’s daughter,” he said, “and Olive, let me introduce you to Miss Maria Port.”

“She introduced herself to me,” said Miss Port, “and tried to get seven cents out of me by letting down the bar so that it nearly broke my horse’s nose.  But we’ll get to know each other better.  She’s very different from what I thought she was.”

“Most people are,” said Captain Asher, as he offered a chair to Miss Port in his parlor, and sat down opposite to her.  Olive, who did not care to hear herself discussed, quietly passed out of the room.

“Captain,” said Miss Port, leaning forward, “how old is she, anyway?”

“About twenty,” was the answer.

“And how long is she going to stay?”

“All summer, I hope,” said Captain John.

“Well, she won’t do it, I can tell you that,” remarked Miss Port.  “She’ll get tired enough of this place before the summer’s out.”

“We shall see about that,” said the captain, “but she is not tired yet.”

“And her mother’s dead, and she’s wearin’ no mournin’.”

“Why should she?” said the captain.  “It would be a shame for a young girl like her to be wearing black for two years.”

“She’s delicate, ain’t she?”

“I have not seen any signs of it.”

“What did her mother die of?”

“I never heard,” said the captain; “perhaps it was the bubonic plague.”

Miss Port pushed back her chair and drew her skirts about her.

“Horrible!” she exclaimed.  “And you let that child come here!”

The captain smiled.  “Perhaps it wasn’t that,” he said.  “It might have been an avalanche, and that is not catching.”

Miss Port looked at him seriously.  “It’s a great pity she’s so handsome,” she said.

“I don’t think so; I am glad of it,” replied the captain.

Miss Port heaved a sigh.  “What that girl is goin’ to need,” she said, “is a female guardeen.”

“Would you like to take the place?” asked the captain with a grin.

At that instant it might have been supposed that a certain dumpling which has been mentioned was made of very red apples and that its covering of dough was somewhat thin in certain places.  Miss Port’s eyes were bent for an instant upon the floor.

“That is a thing,” she said, “which would need a great deal of consideration.”

A sudden thrill ran through the captain which was not unlike a moment in his past career when a gentle shudder had run through his ship as its keel grazed an unsuspected sand-bar, and he had not known whether it was going to stick fast or not; but he quickly got himself into deep water again.