Louise, knowing Aunt Euphemia so well, was immediately aware that the haughty lady had something more than ordinarily unpleasant to communicate. It was nothing about Uncle Amazon and the Shell Road store; some other wind of mischance had ruffled her soul.

But the girl ignored Aunt Euphemia’s signals for several minutes; until she made herself, indeed, more familiar with the manner and personal attributes of these new acquaintances. There was a Miss Perriton of about her own age whom she liked at first sight. Two or three men of the party were clean-cut and attractive fellows. Despite the fact that their cottage had been so recently opened for the season, the Perritons had already assembled a considerable house party.

“Louise, I wish to talk to you,” at last said Mrs. Conroth grimly.

“True,” sighed her niece. “And how extremely exact you always are in your use of the language, auntie. You never wish to talk with me. You will do all the talking as usual, I fear.”

“You are inclined to be saucy,” bruskly rejoined Aunt Euphemia. “As your father is away I feel more deeply my responsibility in this matter. You are a wayward girl ­you always have been.”

“You don’t expect me to agree with you on that point, do you, auntie?” Louise asked sweetly.

Mrs. Conroth ignored the retort, continuing: “I am not amazed, after seeing your surroundings at the Silt place, that you should become familiar with these common longshore characters. But this that I have just learned ­only this forenoon in fact ­astonishes me beyond measure; it does, indeed!”

“Let me be astonished, too, auntie. I love a surprise,” drawled her niece.

“Where were you yesterday?” demanded Aunt Euphemia sharply.

Louise at once thought she knew what was coming. She smiled as she replied: “Out fishing.”

“And with whom, may I ask?”

“With Betty Gallup, Uncle Abram’s housekeeper.”

“But the man?”

“Oh! Mr. Tapp, you mean? A very pleasant young man, auntie.”

“That is what I was told, Louise,” her aunt said mournfully. “With young Tapp. And you have been seen with him frequently. It is being remarked by the whole colony. Of course, you can mean nothing by this intimacy. It arises from your thoughtlessness, I presume. You must understand that he is not ­er ­Well, the Tapps are not of our set, Louise.”

“My goodness, no!” laughed the girl cheerfully. “The Tapps are real Cape Codders, I believe.”

Aunt Euphemia raised her eyebrows and her lorgnette together. “I do not understand you, I fear. What the Tapps are by blood, I do not know. But they are not in society at all ­not at all!”

“Not in society?” repeated Louise, puzzled indeed.

“Scarcely. Of course, as Mrs. Perriton says, the way the cottagers are situated here at The Beaches, the Tapps must be treated with a certain friendliness. That quite impossible ‘I. Tapp,’ as he advertises himself, owns all the Point and might easily make it very disagreeable for the rest of the colony if he so chose.”

She stopped because of the expression on her niece’s countenance.

“What do you mean?” Louise asked. “Who ­who are these Tapps?”

“My dear child! Didn’t you know? Was I blaming you for a fault of which you were not intentionally guilty? See how wrong you are to go unwarned and unaccompanied to strange places and into strange company. I thought you were merely having a mild flirtation with that young man in the full light of understanding.”

Louise controlled her voice and her countenance with an effort. “Tell me, Aunt Euphemia,” she repeated, “just who Lawford Tapp is?”

“His father is a manufacturer of cheap candies. He is advertised far and wide as ‘I. Tapp, the Salt Water Taffy King.’ Fancy! I presume you are quite right; they probably were nothing more than clam diggers originally. The wife and daughters are extremely raw; no other word expresses it. And that house! Have you seen it close to? There was never anything quite so awful built outside an architect’s nightmare.”

“They own Tapp Point? That is Lawford’s home? Those girls are his sisters?” Louise murmured almost breathlessly.

“Whom did you take that young man to be, Louise?”

“A fisherman’s son,” confessed her niece, in a very small voice. And at that Aunt Euphemia all but fainted.

But Louise would say nothing more ­just then. On the approach of some of her friends, Mrs. Conroth was forced to put a cap upon her vexation, and bid her niece good-day as sweetly as though she had never dreamed of boxing her ears.

Louise climbed the nearest stairs to the summit of the bluff. She felt she could not meet Lawford at this time, and he was between her and the moving picture actors.

Within the past few hours several things that had seemed stable in Louise Grayling’s life had been shaken.

She had accepted in the very first of her acquaintanceship with Lawford Tapp the supposition that his social position was quite inferior to her own. She was too broadly democratic to hold that as an insurmountable barrier between them.

Her disapproval of the young man grew out of her belief in his identity as a mere “hired man” of the wealthy owner of the villa on the Point. She had considered that a man who was so intelligent and well educated and at the same time so unambitious was lacking in those attributes of character necessary to make him a success in life.

His love for the open ­for the sea and shore and all that pertained to them ­coincided exactly with Louise’s own aspirations. She considered it all right that her father and herself spent much of their time as Lawford spent his. Only, daddy-prof often added to the sum-total of human knowledge by his investigations, and sometimes added to their financial investments through his work as well.

Until now she had considered Lawford Tapp’s tendencies toward living such an irresponsible existence as all wrong ­for him. The rather exciting information she had just gained changed her mental attitude toward the young man entirely.

Louise gave no consideration whatsoever to Aunt Euphemia’s snobbish stand in the matter of Lawford’s social position. Professor Grayling had laughingly said that Euphemia chose to ignore the family’s small beginnings in America. True, the English Graylings possessed a crest and a pedigree as long as the moral law. But in America the family had begun by being small tradespeople and farmers.

Of course, Louise considered, Aunt Euphemia would be very unpleasant and bothersome about this matter. Louise had hoped to escape all that for the summer by fleeing to Cap’n Abe’s store at Cardhaven.

However (and the girl’s lips set firmly) she was determined to take her own gait ­to stand upon her own opinion ­to refuse to be swerved from her chosen course by any consideration. Lawford Tapp was in a financial situation to spend his time in the improvement of his body and mind without regard to money considerations. Louise foresaw that they were going to have a delightful time together along the shore here, until daddy-prof came home in the fall. And then ­

She saw no such cloud upon the horizon as Lawford saw. Louise acknowledged the existence of nothing ­not even Aunt Euphemia’s opposition ­which could abate the happiness she believed within her grasp.

She admitted that her interest in Lawford had risen far above the mark of mere friendly feeling. When she had seen him sinking the day before, and in peril of his life, she knew beyond peradventure that his well-being and safety meant more to her than anything else in the world.

Now she was only anxious to have him learn that she instead of Betty had leaped into the sea after him. She would avoid him no more. Only she did not wish to meet him there on the beach before all those idlers. Louise feared that if she did so, she would betray her happiness. She thrilled with it ­she was obsessed with the thought that there was nothing, after all, to separate Lawford and herself!

Yet the day passed without his coming to the store on the Shell Road. Louise still felt some disturbance of mind regarding Cap’n Amazon. She kept away from him as much as possible, for she feared that she might be tempted to blurt out just what she thought of his ridiculous stories.

She did not like to hear Betty Gallup utter her diatribes against the master mariner; although in secret she was inclined to accept as true many of the “able seaman’s” strictures upon Cap’n Amazon’s character.

It was really hard when she was in his presence to think of him as an audacious prevaricator ­and perhaps worse. He was so kindly in his manner and speech to her. His brisk consideration for her comfort at all times ­his wistful glances for Jerry, the ancient canary, and the tenderness he showed the bird ­even his desire to placate Diddimus, the tortoise-shell cat ­all these things withstood the growing ill-opinion being fostered in Louise Grayling’s mind. Who and what was this mysterious person calling himself Cap’n Amazon Silt?

She had, too, a desire to know just how many of those weird stories he told were filched from Cap’n Abe’s accumulation of nautical literature. When Cap’n Amazon had gained access to the chest of books Louise could not imagine; but the fact remained that he had at least two of the stories pat.

Louise had promised to spend the evening at the Perritons, and did so; but she returned to Cap’n Abe’s store early and did not invite her escort in, although he was a youth eager to taste the novelty of being intimate with “one of these old Cape Codders,” as he expressed it.

“No,” she told young Malcolm Standish firmly. “Uncle Amazon is not to be made a peepshow of by the idle rich of The Beaches. Besides, from your own name, you should be a descendant of Miles Standish, and blood relation to these Cape Codders yourself. And Uncle Amazon and Uncle Abram are fine old gentlemen.” She said it boldly, whether she could believe it about Cap’n Amazon or not. “I will not play showman.”

“Oh, say! Ford Tapp comes here. I saw his car standing outside the other evening.”

“Mr. Tapp,” Louise explained calmly, “comes in the right spirit. He is a friend of the ­ahem ­family. He is well known to Cap’n Abe who owns the store and has made himself acquainted with Cap’n Amazon over the counter.”

“And how has he made himself so solid with you, Miss Grayling?” Standish asked impudently.

“By his gentlemanly behavior, and because he knows a deal more about boat-sailing and the shores than I know,” she retorted demurely.

“Leave it to me!” exclaimed Malcolm Standish. “I am going to learn navigation and fishology at once.”

“But ­don’t you think you may be too late?” she asked him, running up the steps. “Good-night, Mr. Standish!”

Upon going indoors she did not find Cap’n Amazon. The lamp was burning in the living-room, but he was not there and the store was dark. Louise mounted the stairs, rather glad of his absence; but when she came to the top of the flight she saw the lamplight streaming through the open door of her uncle’s bedroom. Diddimus, with waving tail, was just advancing into the “cabin,” as Cap’n Amazon called the chamber he occupied.

Knowing that he particularly objected to having any of his possessions disturbed, and fearing that Diddimus might do some mischief there, Louise followed the tortoise-shell, calling to him:

“Come out of there! Come out instantly, Diddimus! What do you mean by venturing in where we are all forbidden to enter? Don’t you know, Diddimus, that only fools dare venture where angels fear to tread? Scat!”

Something on the washstand caught Louise’s glance. In the bottom of the washbowl was the stain of a dark brown liquid. Beside it stood a bottle the label of which she could read from the doorway.

She caught her breath, standing for half a minute as though entranced. Diddimus, hearing a distant footstep, and evidently suspecting it, whisked past Louise out of the room.

There were other articles on the washstand that claimed the girl’s notice; but it was to the bottle labeled “Walnut Stain” that her gaze returned. She crept away to her own room, lit her lamp, and did not even see Cap’n Amazon Silt again that night.