If they had not been so preoccupied, if they had looked out of that window, they would have seen a horse and buggy approaching over the dunes.  Seth and Mrs. Bascom were on the buggy seat, and the lightkeeper was driving with one hand.  The equipage had been hired at the Eastboro livery stable.  Joshua was undergoing repairs and enjoying a much-needed rest at the blacksmith shop in the village.

As they drew near the lights, Seth sighed contentedly.

“Well, Emeline,” he observed, “here we be, safe and sound.  Home again!  Yes, sir, by jiminy crimps, home!  And you ain’t goin’ to Boston to-day, neither.”

Mrs. Bascom, the practical, moved toward the edge of the seat.

“Take your arm away, Seth,” she cautioned.  “They’ll see you.”

“Who’ll see me?  What do I care who sees me?  Ain’t a man got a right to put his arm around his own wife, I’d like to know?”

“Humph!  Well, all right.  I can stand it if you can.  Only I cal’late your young Brown man is in for somethin’ of a shock, that’s all.  He don’t know that I’m your wife.”

Seth removed his arm.  His expression changed.

“That’s so,” he admitted.  “He will be set back three or four rows, won’t he?”

“I shouldn’t wonder.  He’ll think your woman-hate has had a relapse, I guess.”

The lightkeeper looked troubled; then he nodded grimly.

“His ain’t what you’d call a desp’rate case,” he declared.  “Judgin’ by what I’ve seen in the cove for the last month, he’s gettin’ better of it fast.  I ain’t no worse than he is, by time! . . .  Wonder where he is!  This place looks deader’n the doleful tombs.”

He hitched the horse to the back fence and assisted his wife to alight from the buggy.  They entered the kitchen.  No one was there, and Seth’s hurried search of the other rooms resulted in finding them untenanted likewise.

“Maybe he’s out in one of the lights,” he said, “wait here, Emeline, and I’ll go see.”

But she would not wait.  “I’m goin’ right over to the bungalow,” she said.  “I’m worried about Miss Ruth.  She was alone all last night, and I sha’n’t rest easy till I know nothin’s happened to her.  You can come when you find your young man.  You and me have got somethin’ to tell ’em, and we might as well get the tellin’ done as soon as possible.  Nothin’s ever gained by putting off a mean job.  Unless, of course,” she added, looking at him out of the corners of her eyes, “you want to back out, Seth.  It ain’t too late even now, you know.”

He stared at her.  “Back out!” he repeated; “back out!  Emeline Bascom, what are you talkin’ about?  You go to that bungalow and go in a hurry.  Don’t stop to talk! go!  Who’s runnin’ this craft?  Who’s the man in this family—­you or me?”

She laughed.  “You seem to be, Seth,” she answered, “just now.”

“I am.  I’ve been a consider’ble spell learnin’ how to be, but I’ve learned.  You trot right along.”