"Yes, the Gull's Nest," replied Mrs. Porter. "I don't know what Miss Barry calls it, but how could it have any other name?"
"Lambert was always telling me to name it and he'd give me some writing paper, stamped."
"And why didn't you?"
"I did." Miss Barry tossed her head a little toward the welcoming waves.
"What is it?" asked Mrs. Porter eagerly.
"Oh, no matter," returned Miss Belinda.
"You haven't told? Do you mean you haven't told?" Mrs. Porter's eyes twinkled at the proof of New England reticence.
"What's in a name, anyway?" returned Miss Belinda evasively.
Her niece regarded the flush on her aunt's thin cheek wistfully, and wondered what bit of sentiment she was concealing.
The wonder heightened the interest with which she entered the cottage. The little house was unexpectedly roomy within. Lambert Barry had given his sister carte blanche as to coziness, provided she would have room enough for him and his when they could arrange to come; but the nearness to the great diapason of the waves had repelled his wife, and after he lost her the engrossed business man could make only flying visits to the scenes of his childhood. There were the rooms, however, and Linda was soon led to hers.