The girl sat up and pushed back her unkempt hair. She had a deep,
glowing scar just over her temple. But her hair was a wonderful color,
and only once before Phil remembered having seen eyes so deeply blue.

"Why," Phil exclaimed with a start of surprise, "I have seen you
somewhere before. Don't you remember me?"

The girl shook her head. "I do not remember anything," she answered
quietly.

"But I saw you on the canal boat. Your father was the man who helped
us secure our houseboat. What are you doing here?"

"We have come here for many years, I think," the girl answered
confusedly. "In the early spring my father catches shad along the bay.
Then all summer he takes people out sailing from the big place over
there." She pointed across the water in the direction of the hotel.
"Our boat is on the other side of the island." The girl clasped her
head in her long, sun-burned hands. "It is there that it hurts," she
declared, touching the ugly, jagged scar.

Phil gave a little, sympathetic cry and put her hand on the girl's
shoulder.

"When I work a long time in the sun my head hurts," the girl went on
listlessly. "I have been washing all day on the beach. I came up here
to hide, and my father found me. He was angry because I had stopped
work."

"Did he strike you?" Phil cried in horror, gazing at the slender,