During the early morning hours of that summer day that Sidney was destined never to forget, the girl passed through every emotion that a fifteen-year-old heart can suffer.

First, to her dismay no one at the cottage had seemed to rejoice, as the crowd on the wharf had rejoiced, at her rescue. When Mr. Dugald led her in Miss Vine was making coffee at the stove and all she said was: “Well, you’re all right! Better go to bed now as quick as you can and keep out from under foot.” Then Mr. Dugald had taken Pola back to the hotel. Aunt Achsa was with Doctor Blackwell and Lavender. Sidney had tried to summon sufficient courage to ask Miss Vine’s forbidding back for some word of Lavender, but the words failed in her throat. Cold, forlorn, hungry, she crept to her room, threw off her clothes and huddled down into the bed-clothes.

They would all blame her—Miss Vine and Mr. Dugald, Aunt Achsa, Doctor Blackwell. Probably now Pola would have more complexes to suffer; Pola’s mother would be angry and they could never be friends again. And Mart—Aunt Achsa had said old Mrs. Calkins could be terrible when she was “worked up!” Even if Lavender lived Aunt Achsa would never forgive her and if he didn’t live—Mr. Dugald had said he was fighting. Those boards creaking faintly meant that Doctor Blackwell and Aunt Achsa were helping Lavender fight. Dear old Lav with his fine dreams!

The desperate longing for Trude shook her. She sobbed into her pillow. And yet the longing brought only added remorse. Trude would scold her. Trude would take her home. That meant stinging humiliation. How Vick would laugh at her when everything was over. A case of rum! Sidney writhed under the soft covers.

Somewhere boards creaked again—Lavender’s fight. Sidney pictured the doctor and Aunt Achsa bending over him. And outside everything was so quiet and gray. That was the way death probably came, Sidney thought.

On the morrow they would send her home—in disgrace. She might not even be allowed to see Lavender, or Mart, or Pola—or Mr. Dugald. Someone would telegraph to Trude and Trude would meet her back at Middletown. She would live a long, sad life of penance behind the crumbing stone wall she had so detested.

But the thought of the wall and the shelter of the old house brought such a surcease of torment that the girl had fallen into a heavy sleep. When she wakened it was to a consciousness of bright sunshine—and someone looking at her, someone different, and someone smiling.

She sat bolt upright and rubbed her eyes. Then she flung out her arms with a low glad cry that was half sob.

“Trude—Oh, Trude!”

Trude held her long and close, stroking the shorn head, murmuring soothing words. Finally Sidney wriggled from her.

“Have you come to take me home? But how could they send for you so quickly? How long have I been asleep? Oh, Lavender—is he—is he—”

“One question at a time, Sid. Lavender is better. He’ll be all right, the doctor says, after a good rest. Yes, I think I’d better take you home. No, they did not send for me.” Briefly, as though now that earlier concern was of little consequence, Trude told of the sketch that had so bewildered and alarmed her.

“I couldn’t understand,” she finished.

“I couldn’t either, at first. You see the boarder—the man who has boarded here so long and is dreadfully fond of Aunt Achsa wrote that letter to me and wrote it nice so as to please her, and, at first—but, oh, Trude, Aunt Achsa is wonderful and so is Lavender, really, truly, even though they are poor—”

“Hush, Sidney.” Trude’s eyes darkened with feeling. “You do not have to tell me that. I have learned that in only a few hours. Oh, I have seen straight into souls—those kind men on the street, as concerned as though you belonged to them, and here—Aunt Achsa with her great courage and her love. And that Miss Vine—they’re so simple—and so fine—it made me ashamed of my silly standards, my fears.”

“And Lavender is best of all—”

Now quick tears shone like stars in Trude Romley’s eyes. She reached out her hands and caught Sidney’s.

“Oh, Lavender—when I think what he did I—I—” She could not finish, but Sidney understood the gratitude that was in her heart. She leaned her face against Trude’s shoulder with a long sigh.

“I’m cured of lots of things, Trude. I wanted something different but I didn’t want all this to happen! You see I made Lavender and Mart believe it was diamonds Jed Starrow was hiding when it was probably only a case of rum—”

Suddenly Trude straightened. “I almost forgot. A boy came here and said a Captain Davies wanted you to come down to Rockman’s wharf as soon as you could. That was two hours ago. You see it is nearly noon now. You’d better dress quickly and I’ll go out and fix you some breakfast.”

Sidney obeyed reluctantly. In her mingled remorse and humiliation she shrank from facing the world. She was not even curious as to why Cap’n Phin wanted to see her.

By the time she had dressed Trude had a poached egg and a glass of milk ready for her. Miss Letty was with Lavender and Aunt Achsa had gone to bed.

Sidney begged so hard that Trude accompany her to Rockman’s that Trude put on her hat and went with her. And poor Sidney needed Trude’s support for Sunset Lane was thronged with curious men and women; as they walked along the waterfront fishermen and tourists and boys and girls stared and nodded and Sidney’s sensitive soul mistook their obvious interest for ridicule. She walked with lowered eyes lest she encounter Mrs. Calkins or Pola’s mother.

Cap’n Phin was waiting outside the door of the shed on Rockman’s wharf. He nodded to Sidney and Trude and beckoned them inside. At any other time, in any other state of mind, Sidney would have thrilled to his air of mystery.

Four men sat in wooden chairs tipped at various angles and on the floor before them stood the wooden box from the Arabella. The men nodded and smiled at Sidney and brought their chairs to the floor as though to attention.

Cap’n Davies solemnly motioned Sidney and Trude to two vacant chairs and then cleared his throat.

“I cal’late, Miss Sidney, that you’ve a sort o’ interest in this cargo we brought in on the Sally so we stood by ’til you hove in sight. Now, mebbe it’s what we think it is and mebbe it isn’t. Si, give a hand and unload.”

One of the men knelt down by the box and proceeded to open it with a hammer and a chisel. The others leaned forward with interest. Sidney held her breath.

The man Si, having torn off the cover, put his hands into the paper wrappings and drew forth yards and yards of magnificently embroidered fabric that made Sidney and Trude gasp in admiration and astonishment. But the others were plainly disappointed. A low murmur of disgust went around the room.

“Give it here,” one of the men asked. And as Si handed over the contraband it slipped from his hands. He caught at it quickly to save it from the dirt of the floor. Suddenly something small and gleaming fell from the folds and rolled upon the floor.

“I’ll be ding-blasted!” roared Cap’n Phin. Someone swore softly. The man Si dropped to his knees. Sidney blinked.

Cap’n Phin seized the silk and unwound it. And among the countless folds he found a cunningly contrived pocket filled with hundreds of the priceless gems.

For a moment no one spoke. The daring of it all, the wealth of the glistening jewels, held each man in the room. Cap’n Phin folded the gorgeous silk and passed it to one of the men.

“I guess this belongs to you in trust for Uncle Sam,” he said gravely. “Our business is with one Jed Starrow.” He turned to Sidney who was trembling violently. “Now, matie, will you tell these men how you happened to ship aboard the Arabella last night?”

Sidney’s story tumbled out in quick, eager words and in careful detail. The men listened closely. The one who had taken the diamonds “in trust for Uncle Sam” made notes in a small black book. When she had finished Cap’n Phin nodded, his face serious.

“Reckon we’d better not question Lav Green just yet, he’s pullin’ out of the fog. We got enough as ’tis to hold Jed Starrow. If I ain’t much mistaken he’ll turn yellow when we face him and squeal on the folks higher up what’s paid him to hurt the name of the Cape. That’ll do for now, little gal.”

Walking homeward Sidney could not speak for excitement. It had not been rum! It had been the diamonds they had sought! Their recklessness had not been in vain. Her disgrace had a sweeter flavor.

As they turned in to Sunset Lane Sidney spied Mr. Dugald ahead. He must hear the news! And he could tell her of Pola! She ran toward him, calling. At the sound of her voice he lifted his head.

“Oh, Mr. Dugald, it was diamonds—in that box, you know, why—” But here Sidney stopped. For Mr. Dugald was not even hearing her, he was staring over her head at Trude.

“Oh, I forgot—this is my sister, Trude. Trude, this is Mr. Dugald, Aunt Achsa’s—”

But her introduction went no farther. At sight of Trude’s face she broke off abruptly. And Mr. Dugald was saying quietly:

“I know your sister, Sidney. Trude, I am more glad to see you than you can ever know!”

Sidney’s brain whirled. Mr. Dugald knew Trude! And Trude—only once before had she seen that look on Trude’s face and that had been when she had watched Trude reading a letter to Issy.

“Why—why—why—” she gasped, a great enlightenment slowly dawning over her. “You’re—you’re—why, you’re Trude’s lost love!”

“Sidney!” cried Trude, scarlet-faced.

Dugald Allan laughed. “Sidney, go in and see Lav. He’s been calling for you and Miss Letty says you can see him for five minutes if you won’t let him do any of the talking. I want to tell your sister a few things about you that I think she ought to know.” He caught Trude’s arm in a masterful way, wheeled her about and led her down the lane.

Sidney stared after them; even the excitement of the diamonds faded to nothing by the side of this amazing revelation. Mr. Dugald had known Trude all the time! He was the man who had made Trude so unhappy! He had let her talk of Trude and had never betrayed by so much as a blush their acquaintance!

Sidney had no choice but to go on alone to the cottage. Her elation and her delight at seeing Lavender were shadowed by a growing apprehension. Mr. Dugald had promised to forget what she had told him of Trude’s broken heart, but perhaps he hadn’t! And he might tell Trude that he knew!