Mr. Witherbee laughed.
"Clock, eh? I couldn't make it out at all."
She did not venture a glance at the guest, who remained behind, even when Mr. Witherbee called back:
"Better change those clothes, old man. Early breakfast to-day."
Mr. Morton remained sitting on the string-piece, looking after them with expressionless eyes.
Mrs. Witherbee was a sunup riser, like her husband, and she greeted her new guest with open arms.
"Everybody will be down presently," she said. "My, how wonderfully fine you look! How do you manage it—at such an hour? I suppose I'm a fright. Well, no wonder—this morning. Did Stephen tell you—the burglar? Oh, it was a terrible scare! I'm so glad, my dear, you were not here. It would have upset you frightfully."
Miss Chalmers, standing on the porch, glanced across the lawn and saw an overturned chair.
"Things like that do upset one," she murmured.
"I should say they did!" exclaimed Mrs. Witherbee. "I'm afraid I'll never feel safe on this island again. I'll always be lying awake, waiting for that alarm to go off. Really, I'd feel safer with it taken out, Stephen."