It had been foggy on the Sound the night before and Louise had not slept until the boat had rounded Point Judith.  So she was not averse to retiring at this comparatively early hour.

Cap’n Abe led her upstairs to a cool, clean, and comfortable chamber.  The old four-posted, corded bedstead stood in the middle of the room, covered with a blue-and-white coverlet, with sheets and pillow cases as white as foam.  It could not be doubted that Cap’n Abe had carried out his idea of hospitality.  The spare room was always ready for the possible guest.

“Good-night, uncle,” she said, smiling at him as he handed her the lamp.  “I believe I am going to have a delightful time here.”

“Of course you be!  Of course!” he exclaimed.  “An’ if I ain’t here, Cap’n Am’zon will show you a better time than I could.  Good-night.  Sleep well, Louise.”

He kissed her on the forehead.  But she, impulsively, pressed her fresh lips to the storekeeper’s weather-beaten cheek.  Before she closed the door of the bedroom she heard him clumping downstairs in his heavy boots.

After that he must have removed his footgear for, although she heard doors open and close, she could not distinguish his steps.

“I’m glad I came!” she told herself with enthusiasm as she prepared to retire.  “What a delightful old place it is!  And Uncle Abram—­why, he’s a dear!  Daddy-prof was not half enthusiastic enough about the Cape Cod folk.  It has been a distinct loss to me that I was never here before.”

She laid out her toilet requisites upon the painted pine bureau and hung her negligee over the back of a chair.  As she retied the ribbon in one of the sleeves of her nightgown she thought: 

“And that Tapp boy came back a second time!  Some fisherman’s son, I suppose.  But exceedingly nice looking!”

A little later the feather bed had taken her into its arms and she almost instantly fell asleep.  Occasionally through the night she was roused by unfamiliar sounds.  There was a fog coming in from the sea and the siren at the lighthouse on the Neck began to bellow like a bereft cow.

There were movements downstairs.  Once she heard a wagon stop, and voices.  Then the bumping of heavy boxes on the side porch.  Her trunks.  Voices below in the living-room—­gruff, yet subdued.  Creaking footsteps on the stair; then Louise realized that they were carrying something heavy down and out to the waiting wagon.  She was just dropping to sleep when the wagon was driven away.

There came a heavy summons on her door while it was still dark.  But a glance at her watch assured Lou Grayling that it was the fog that made the light so dim.

“Yes, Cap’n Abe?” she called cheerfully, for even early rising could not quench her good spirits.

“’Tain’t time to get up yet, Niece Louise,” he told her behind the thin panel of the door.  “Don’t disturb yourself.  Cap’n Amazon’s come an’ I’m off.”