face, and there was the house door wide open, and the grey light drawing
another door upon the inner wall. And when I looked again there was
Edie's room open also, and de Lapp's too; and I saw in a flash what that
giving of presents meant upon the evening before. It was a
leave-taking, and they were gone.

My heart was bitter against Cousin Edie as I stood looking into her
room. To think that for the sake of a newcomer she could leave us all
without one kindly word, or as much as a hand-shake. And he, too!
I had been afraid of what would happen when Jim met him; but now there
seemed to be something cowardly in this avoidance of him. I was angry
and hurt and sore, and I went out into the open without a word to my
father, and climbed up on to the moors to cool my flushed face.

When I got up to Corriemuir I caught my last glimpse of Cousin Edie.
The little cutter still lay where she had anchored, but a rowboat was
pulling out to her from the shore. In the stern I saw a flutter of red,
and I knew that it came from her shawl. I watched the boat reach the
yacht and the folk climb on to her deck. Then the anchor came up, the
white wings spread once more, and away she dipped right out to sea.
I still saw that little red spot on the deck, and de Lapp standing
beside her. They could see me also, for I was outlined against the sky,
and they both waved their hands for a long time, but gave it up at last
when they found that I would give them no answer.

I stood with my arms folded, feeling as glum as ever I did in my life,
until their cutter was only a square hickering patch of white among the
mists of the morning. It was breakfast time and the porridge upon the
table before I got back, but I had no heart for the food. The old folk
had taken the matter coolly enough, though my mother had no word too