Edna laughed.  “You would have to be very careful, Daddy,” she said.  “Mr. Hamilton and the Captain idolize Mary-’Gusta and she just worships them.  Besides, she isn’t really their niece, you know.  She is a young lady of independent means—­at least, so everybody says.”

Her father was surprised.  He asked what she meant by “independent means.”  Mrs. Keith answered.

“The means are not very extensive, I imagine,” she said.  “The story is that this Mary-’Gusta—­why they persist in calling her by that dreadful name I can’t understand—­is the daughter of a former friend and partner.  Mr. Hamilton and Captain Gould adopted her and she has lived with them ever since.  She has money of her own, though no two of the townspeople agree as to how much.  I’ve heard it estimated all the way from five to fifty thousand.  She never speaks of it and those queer old uncles of hers keep their affairs very much to themselves.  But I agree with you, John; it is a shame that she should have to spend her life here in South Harniss.  I think we ought to do something for her, if we can.  I shall think it over.”

Mrs. Keith was always doing something for somebody.  At home in Chicago she was president of her women’s club and identified with goodness knows how many charitable societies.  In South Harniss she was active in church and sewing circles.  Her enthusiasm was always great, but her tact was sometimes lacking.  South Harniss people, some of them, were inclined to consider her as a self-appointed boss interfering where she had no business.

Her husband looked a trifle dubious.

“Be careful, Gertrude,” he cautioned.  “Look out you don’t offend.  These Cape Codders are self-respecting and touchy, you know.  Anyone interfering with their private affairs is likely to get into trouble.”

His wife resented the warning.  “Don’t throw cold water on everything, John,” she said.  “I know more about Cape Codders than you do.  You only meet them for a few weeks each summer.  I flatter myself that I know them and that they know and trust me.  Of course I shall be careful.  And I shall think the Mary-’Gusta matter over.”

She did think it over and a week later she came to her husband overflowing with the excitement of a brilliant idea.  A cousin of hers, a maiden lady of sixty or thereabouts, wealthy and a semi-invalid who cherished her ill-health, was in need of a female companion.  Mrs. Keith was certain that Mary-’Gusta would be just the person to fill that need.

Mr. Keith was by no means so certain.  He raised some objections.

“Humph,” he said.  “Well, Gertrude, to be frank, I don’t think much of the scheme.  Cousin Clara has had one companion after the other for thirty years.  None of them has stayed with her very long.  She requires a sort of combination friend and lady’s maid and secretary and waitress, and I don’t think our Mary-’Gusta would enjoy that sort of job.  I certainly shouldn’t—­with Clara.”