"Of what?"
"A name for the cottage. We'll call it Wits' End. It is the end, you see. The end of this part of the island, for we can't go any further without crossing this little cove, or going around it, and you were at your wits' end when you conceived the idea of building here. Don't you think it will be a nice odd sort of name?"
Miss Elliott nodded approval. "Yes, I like it. Wits' End it shall be. That much is settled. Now, we will explore."
As Gwen said, it was "upstairs, downstairs and in my lady's chamber" that they made their investigations, stepping cautiously along the timbers, picking their way over heaps of shavings, avoiding unprotected openings, swinging around corners while they held on to the studs, creeping up the unfinished stairs, commenting on this, criticizing that, admiring the views from each window and finally going away better satisfied than, at first, they had hoped to be.
"He is really doing beautifully," said Gwen. "Never mind if it isn't exactly as you planned in some ways; he has improved it in others, and he is such a perfect dear I shouldn't care what he did, so long as he made it comfortable. Oh, auntie dear, I am glad you and I are chums, for we are going to have such a good time in my summer's holiday."
Miss Elliott proceeded leisurely while she watched with loving eyes the slim graceful figure of the girl who ran on ahead. "It will do her a world of good," she said to herself. "It is just what she needs."
Gwen sprang from hummock to hummock, stopping to gather a violet, pausing to listen to a song-sparrow, turning her face seaward to take in the beauty of the eastern scene, and at last waiting at the stile for her aunt. She had just reached this point when a man came along a footpath leading from the little cove past Cap'n Ben's garden. He stopped short at sight of the girl, turned quite pale as he stood gazing at her, then with a lifting of the hat he passed on. Gwen watching, saw him enter the kitchen door of Cap'n Ben's house.
HE STOPPED SHORT AT SIGHT OF THE GIRL.