“But, Faith, you know something of the girl’s story. Why don’t you tell it?” This from Gladys.
Faith hesitated. Would Helen wish her to tell, and yet surely there was nothing in what she knew that ought to be kept secret.
“Well, what I know is not much,” Faith confessed. “Muriel Storm is an acquaintance of Gene Beavers and——”
Exclamations of amazement interrupted the speaker.
Conscious of the shock and surprise her statement had caused in the group, Faith hurried on to explain. “You remember Gene had to leave college last fall because of a collapse of some kind.” Several nodded. “Well, he then went to Tunkett, a sea-coast town, to recuperate, and while there he met the keeper of the light who was Muriel’s grandfather. They did a good deal, Helen told me, to help Gene regain his health.” This last, rather defiantly. Faith, unlike the others, was not a snob at heart.
Nor, for that matter, was Gladys. “Poor girl,” she now put in. “I do feel sorry for her. Anyone who watches her for five minutes can tell that she has a broken heart.”
“Why that? What has happened to her?” Adelaine Stuart was curious.
“I wonder if any of you recall that terrible electric storm that we had last June,” Faith continued. “I remember how it crashed over New York. Old-timers said there had not been one as severe in twenty years. Well, it was during that storm that the lighthouse was struck by lightning, the old man was instantly killed and the girl hurled beneath the debris. She was unconscious hours later when she was finally rescued. All summer long she has been in a hospital in the city under the care of some physician whose home was formerly in that same sea-coast town. He it is who is sending her here.” They saw that the girl about whom they were talking left the veranda, apparently without having noticed them.
Faith went on: “Years ago Doctor Winslow’s sister and our Miss Gordon were friends.” Miss Gordon was the charming middle-aged woman who presided over High Cliffs. “Then this Muriel Storm not only belongs to a class of fisherfolk, but she is also a charity pupil.” Adelaine Stuart tried to show by her tone and expression the pride and scorn which should be exhibited by one possessed of a family tree.
“I shall write my mother,” she concluded, “and if I am not much mistaken Miss Gordon will consider it greatly to her advantage to at once dismiss that girl.”