They took it in leisurely fashion, by a different route from the one they had taken in the morning, and with frequent haltings to gather berries, mosses, lichens, grasses, and strange beautiful flowers; or to gaze with delighted eyes upon the bare brown hills purpling in the light of the setting sun, and the rapidly darkening vales; Sankaty lighthouse, with the sea rolling beyond, on the one hand, and on the other the quieter waters of the harbor, with the white houses and spires of Nantucket Town half encircling it.
They had enjoyed their "squantum," marred by no mishap, no untoward event, so much that it was unanimously agreed to repeat the experiment, merely substituting some other spot for the one visited that day.
But their next excursion was to Wanwinet, situate on a narrow neck of land that, jutting out into the sea, forms the head of the harbor; Nantucket Town standing at the opposite end, some half dozen miles away.
Summer visitors to the latter place usually go to Wanwinet by boat, up the harbor, taking their choice between a sailboat and a tiny steamer which plies regularly back and forth during the season; but our 'Sconset party drove across the moors, sometimes losing their way among the hills, dales, and ponds, but rather enjoying that as a prolongation of the pleasure of the drive, and spite of the detention reached their destination in good season to partake of the dinner of all obtainable luxuries of the sea, served up in every possible form, which is usually considered the roam object of a trip to Wanwinet.
They found the dinner--served in a large open pavilion, whence they might gaze out over the dancing, glittering waves of the harbor, and watch the white sails come and go, while eating--quite as good as they had been led to expect.
After dinner they wandered along the beach, picking up shells and any curious things they could find--now on the Atlantic side, now on the shore of the harbor.
Then a boat was chartered for a sail of a couple of hours, and then followed the drive home to 'Sconset by a different course from that of the morning, and varied by the gradually fading light of the setting sun and succeeding twilight casting weird shadows here and there among the hills and vales.
The captain predicted a storm for the following day, and though the others could see no sign of its approach, it was upon them before they rose the next morning, raining heavily, while the wind blew a gale.
There was no getting out for sitting on the beach, bathing, or rambling about, and they were at close quarters in the cottages.
They whiled away the time with books, games, and conversation.
They were speaking of the residents of the island--their correct speech, intelligence, uprightness, and honesty.
"I wonder if there was ever a crime committed here ?" Elsie said, half inquiringly.

"And if there is a jail on the island ?" "Yes, mother," Edward answered; "there is a jail, but so little use for it that they think it hardly worth while to keep it in decent repair.

I heard that a man was once put in for petty theft, and that after being there a few days he sent word to the authorities that if they didn't repair it so that the sheep couldn't break in on him, he wouldn't stay." There was a general laugh; then Edward resumed: "There has been one murder on the island, as I have been informed.

A mulatto woman was the criminal, a white woman the victim, the motive revenge; the colored woman was in debt to the white one, who kept a little store, and, enraged at repeated duns, went to her house and beat her over the head with some heavy weapon--I think I was told a whale's tooth.
"The victim lingered for some little time, but eventually died of her wounds, and the other was tried for murder.
"It is said the sheriff was extremely uneasy lest she should be found guilty of murder in the first degree, and he should have the unpleasant job of hanging her; but the verdict was manslaughter, the sentence imprisonment for life.
"So she was consigned to jail, but very soon allowed to go out occasionally to do a day's work." "Oh, Uncle Edward, is she alive now ?" Gracie asked, with a look of alarm.
"Yes, I am told she is disabled by disease, and lives in the poorhouse.
But you need not be frightened, little girlie; she is not at all likely to come to 'Sconset, and if she does we will take good care that she is not allowed to harm you." "And I don't suppose she'd want to either, unless we had done something to make her angry," said Lulu.
"But we are going to Nantucket Town to stay a while when we leave 'Sconset," remarked Grace uneasily.
"But that woman will not come near you, daughter; you need, not have the least fear of it," the captain said, drawing his little girl to his knee with a tender caress.
"Ah," said Mr.Dinsmore, "I heard the other day of a curiosity at Nantucket which we must try to see while there.

I think the story connected with it will particularly interest you ladies and the little girls." "Oh, grandpa, tell it!" cried Rosie; "please do; a story is just what we want this dull day." The others joined in the request, and Mr.Dinsmore kindly complied, all gathering closely about him, anxious to catch every word.
"The story is this: Nearly a hundred years ago there lived in Nantucket a sea-captain named Coffin, who had a little daughter of whom he was very fond." Gracie glanced up smilingly into her father's face and nestled closer to him.
"Just as I am of mine," said his answering look and smile as he drew her closer still.
But Mr.Dinsmore's story was going on.
"It was Captain Coffin's custom to bring home some very desirable gift to his little girl whenever he returned from a voyage.