It was only a day or two after this that Ellen, going for the mail, met Cap’n Belah on the road. He grinned when he saw her. “Wal, I hear you women folks met up with your match the other afternoon,” he said.

“I think you might call it a drawn game,” Ellen retorted; “neither party got the better of the other.”

“That was a right cute trick of you folks, going and coming in a motor-bo-at so they couldn’t get their bearings,” the cap’n went on. “If they’d hove to in their own craft, you couldn’t have got away so spry. I snum I never see a bo-at go slicker than she does, slips through the water like a fish; howsomever, you got the best of the boys that time.”

“It was Cousin Rindy’s idea. She couldn’t walk so far, and the boat made it the easiest way to get to the bridge with the whole party.”

“So ’twas. Wal, you won’t have to try any more tricks. I’d know as you’ve heard that the boys has sailed for another port, picked up stakes and left Halsey’s, lugged away all their dunnage, too.”

Ellen hadn’t heard, but she did not betray her ignorance, only asking, “When did they leave?”

“Struck their tents and sot sail early this morning, cal’lated they might come back another year, but, land! you can’t count on young folks. Step in and have a word with my woman, can’t ye?”

But Ellen had no notion of stopping, eager as she was to carry home her news. Mabel saw her coming and met her on the porch. “I have a sad, sad piece of information for you,” Ellen exclaimed. “We shall never have the bliss of meeting Robert MacDonald. He and all his comrades have left for parts unknown.”

“Really?” Mabel looked her surprise. “Do you suppose they were so chagrined at the success of our little man?uvre that they couldn’t stand the jeers of the populace? We did get the best of them.”

“It was diamond cut diamond, it seems to me. Well, that episode is finished. It was fun while it lasted, but it reminds me of some of these modern stories that leave you hanging up in the air. Adieu, Robert!” She kissed her hand in the direction of Halsey’s Island, and the two went in.

“Do you know that at last I have persuaded Miss Rindy to go off on a spree with me?” said Mabel as she began to open her mail. “We’re going up to Portland for the day. You know I’ve been begging her all summer, and at last she is going, just to get rid of my teasing, she says. We’re going to ride all over town, do a little shopping, have lunch at that nice hotel, in the dining-room at the top where you get such a lovely view, and then we’ll go to a movie. Isn’t the prospect sufficiently alluring to tempt you to join us?”

“Leave this lovely island just to spend the day in a city? No, thank you, ma’am. Moreover, two is company; three is a crowd. You two will have a much better time without me, and it will be exciting to see what you bring home.”

“I accept your point of view, but don’t say you were not invited.”

So the matter was settled to Ellen’s satisfaction, and the next morning saw her two housemates off for what Mabel was pleased to call their “spree.” Ellen busied herself about the house for an hour, then she went down to the rocks with her writing materials, accomplished a letter to Caro, and one to Jeremy Todd; then Beulah called her to dinner, so the morning went. Beulah, it may be said, had made the acquaintance of several maids of like color, and enjoyed with them hilarious laughter, mirthful pokes and digs when some appreciated joke was made, and feasts either on the rocks or off in the woods.

“Me an’ some other colored ladies is plannin’ to have a little fessible in de woods dis afternoon,” she confided to Ellen. “Miss Rindy, she say she don’t min’. I be back in time to git supper. Yuh don’t keer, does yuh, Miss Ellen, if I leaves yuh to yo’ own wicked revices?”

Ellen laughed. “I don’t mind in the least, so long as you’re back in time to get supper. If I’m not here, you know where to find the key.”

“We goin’ have a gran’ feas’,” Beulah gave further information; “ice-cream an’ bananas, an’ peanuts and half a watermillion.”

“Take care you don’t make yourself ill,” Ellen warned.

“Law, Miss Ellen, it tek mo’n dem little things to discommoderate mah stummick. Miss Rindy say we has lobsters fo’ supper, an’ I sho’ wants room fo’ dem. I sutt’nly does decline to lobsters.”

“I think you’d better decline them altogether after all that other mess,” responded Ellen, who was busy formulating her own plans for the afternoon. She had just conceived the idea of paying a parting visit to the haunted house. It was barely possible, she considered, that a farewell message had been left by the unknown Robert. It would do no harm to see.

She set off on her walk, making her way leisurely along the shore, deciding that it would be the more interesting route when one was alone. She stopped to look in the little pools where starfish, sea-urchins, and various other sea creatures made their abode. From a pebbly beach she picked up two or three talisman stones, gray, banded about by a dark streak. Here, too, seaweeds, brilliant green and feathery, pink or yellow, attracted her. “Mabel and I must come here and gather some,” she told herself.

Leaving the beach, she climbed the rocks, cut across a field, and reached the road which led to the bridge. There was no one in sight when she came up to the haunted house, which she entered in the usual way, by means of a back door. She tiptoed across the big room and opened the cupboard by the side of the great fireplace, but before she could look to see if anything was there she started back, for the strains of a violin came clearly to her ears. She looked wildly around for a way of escape, for the music was coming nearer and nearer. It was just outside! It was at the door! Ellen rushed toward the stairway, and had just set foot on the first step when a voice said: “Don’t run away. I am perfectly harmless.”

She turned to face an entirely strange young man. For at least ten seconds the two stood and looked at each other; then the young man rushed forward, holding out his hand. “It is Cronette! Of course it is. I forgot, you may not be able to recognize me, but you will recognize your old friend violin.” He held it out to her and she took it mechanically.

“You are—you are——” she stammered.

“Reed Marshall, your old friend, Cronine. Naturally you don’t remember my looks, but you haven’t forgotten me, have you?”

“Oh, no; oh, no,” Ellen recovered herself. “How could I forget you? But I never really knew what you looked like.”

“But I couldn’t forget what you looked like, once having seen you. Isn’t this the greatest luck? Let’s sit down and tell each other the story of our lives. How do you happen to be ’way down East? I am that glad to see you that I could dash over to the Amen corner and shout Glory! Where are you staying?”

“Over on Beatty’s Island with Miss Wickham. She has a cottage there, and Cousin Rindy and I are spending the summer with her. Where are you staying?”

“Here, right here. I came up with a crowd of fellows to camp out on a little island off here. The rest of the bunch had to leave, but Tom Clayton and I skirmished around to find a spot where we could bunk. We are both daffy about this coast, and want to do some sketching. We happened on this old place, which we are able to get for a mere song. The house threatened leaks and hants and sich, so we decided it would be more cozy if we fixed up the stable, hen-house, or whatever it is called. We have begged, borrowed, stolen, and bought sundry and varisome things to make us comfortable, and we’re going to stay on till the ghost gets too much for us.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Ellen. “It is all quite wonderful, isn’t it?” She was still bewildered at the turn of events.

“I’ll say it is, but most wonderful of all is this running across you. By the way, Cronette, what brought you over here? Very few ever come around this way.”

The color flamed up into Ellen’s face as she stammered, “I—I—just was curious to—to—see——”

“The ghost? You don’t believe in ghos’es, do you?”

Ellen’s face was still flaming. “I—yes—no—I don’t know,” she answered in confusion.

Reed regarded her steadfastly for a moment; then he said, “Cronette, honest Injun, can it be possible that you are my wood-nymph?”

“Your wood-nymph?” she spoke in surprise. “Why, that was Robert MacDonald,” and then again the color surged up into her face as she realized that she had said too much.

It was Reed’s turn to look surprised. “Robert MacDonald? Who is the bird? Oh, I say, Cronette, what’s the use of beating about the bush? Tell your uncle all about it and I’ll ’fess up, too.”

Ellen hesitated, but at further urging she said: “We, Mabel and I, came over to see the haunted house. We found a card, Mr. Robert MacDonald’s card. On it was written ‘Compliments to the ghost,’ and so we drew our own conclusions. We thought it would be a lark to answer it, which we did. Perhaps you know the rest, and can tell me who is Robert MacDonald.”

Reed looked puzzled for a moment, then he struck his forehead tragically. “Dolt that I am!” he exclaimed. “I see it now. I didn’t happen to have a card of my own that first time I visited this mansion, so I took one that I happened to have in my pocket, one that a fellow gave me some time ago. I actually had forgotten his name, and had no intention of forging his initials when I signed my own, which are the same, you see.”

“Then we shall never meet Robert,” rejoined Ellen half regretfully.

Reed laughed. “Are you then so disappointed? I’m pleased to pieces myself. To think that you should be my wood-nymph is the jolliest sort of a surprise, and we’ll keep it a secret all to ourselves.”

“How can we keep it a secret when all those men know?”