she was tempting gave her a buoyancy long unfelt. She laughed in gayety
of heart as she helped the young man draw his dory down the sand, and
then took her place at one end while he gave it the last push and then
leaped in at the other. He pulled out to where the boat lay tilting at
anchor, and held the dory alongside by the gunwale that she might step
aboard. But after rising she faltered, looking intently at the boat as if
she missed something there.

"I thought you had a man to sail your boat"

"I had. But I let him go last week. Perhaps I ought to have told you," he
said, looking up at her aslant. "Are you afraid to trust my seamanship?
Adams was a mere form. He behaved like a fool that day."

"Oh, I'm not afraid," said Grace. She stepped from the dory into the
boat, and he flung out the dory's anchor and followed. The sail went up
with a pleasant clucking of the tackle, and the light wind filled it.
Libby made the sheet fast, and, sitting down in the stern on the other
side, took the tiller and headed the boat toward the town that shimmered
in the distance. The water hissed at the bow, and seethed and sparkled
from the stern; the land breeze that bent their sail blew cool upon her
cheek and freshened it with a tinge of color.

"This will do you good," he said, looking into hers with his kind, gay
eyes.

The color in her cheeks deepened a little. "Oh, I am better than I look.
I did n't come for"--

"For medicinal purposes. Well, I am glad of it. We've a good hour between