from him. But the last day or two he had rather
shirked this duty. It would be difficult to explain to Grace. She
might be rather shocked, for she was a little prim in such things,
being her mother's daughter. He thought he would ask Mattie to tell
her about the Challoners, and that he was busy and would write soon;
and when he had made up his mind to this, he went down to the
sea-shore and amused himself by sitting on a breakwater and staring at
the fishing-smacks,--which of course showed how very busy he was.

"I think I shall like Mr. Drummond," observed Mrs. Challoner, in a
tolerant tone, when Nan had accompanied the young vicar to the door.
"He seems an earnest, good sort of young man."

"Yes, mammie dear. And I am sure he has fallen in love with you,"
returned Phillis, naughtily, "for he talked to no one else. And you
are so young-looking and pretty that of course no one could be
surprised if he did." But though Mrs. Challoner said, "Oh, Phillis!"
and looked dreadfully shocked in a proper matronly way, what was the
use of that, when the mischievous girl burst out laughing in her
face?

But the interruption had done them all good, and the evening passed
less heavily than they had dared to hope. And when Mrs. Challoner
complained of fatigue and retired early, escorted by Dorothy, who was
dying for a chat with her mistress, the three girls went out in the
garden, and walked, after their old fashion, arm in arm up and down
the lawn, with Nan in the middle; though Dulce pouted and pretended
that the lawn was too narrow, and that Phillis was pushing her on the
gravel path.

Their mother's window was open, and they could have heard snatches of
Dorothy's conversation if they had chosen to listen. Dulce stood still
a moment, and wafted a little kiss towards her mother's room.

"Dear old mamsie! She has been very good this evening, has she not,
Nan? She has only cried the least wee bit, when you kissed her."

"Yes, indeed. And somebody else has been good too. What do you say,
Phillis? Has not Dulce been the best child possible?"

"Oh, Nan, I should be ashamed to be otherwise," returned Dulce, in
such an earnest manner that it made her sisters laugh, "Do you think I
could see you both so good and cheerful, making the best of things,
and never complaining, even when the tears are in your eyes,--as yours
are often, Nan, when you think no one is looking,--and not try and
copy your example? I am dreadfully proud of you