like her Sybil, whose clothes were
always like those of a little princess. Floss's frock was rather
faded-looking, and there was a mark where it had been let down, and
Carrots' brown holland blouse had arrived at a very _whitey_-brown
shade, through much wear and washing.

"It must be hard work with so many children, and such small means," she
thought to herself, for auntie had been married young to a rich man, and
knew little of "making both ends meet," but aloud she only said, "how
lovely little Fabian would look in black velvet, Lucy! What a complexion
he has!"

"Yes, if you can forgive him his hair," said Mrs. Desart.

"I think his hair is beautiful," observed Sybil, and then went on eating
her breakfast.

They all laughed, but there was still a little sigh at the bottom of
auntie's heart. There was reason for it greater than the sight of her
little nephew's and niece's shabby clothes.

But there was no sigh in the hearts of Floss and Carrots.

"Carrots," said Floss, as they made their way to the nursery to decide
which of their small collection of toys were fit for Sybil's inspection,
"Carrots, _did_ you hear."

"What auntie said?" asked Carrots. "Yes, I heard. Do you think mamma
will ever let us go?"

"Some day, perhaps," said Floss, and oh what dreams and plans and
fancies hung on that "perhaps!" "_Fancy_, Carrots, we should go in the
railway, you and me, Carrots, alone perhaps."

"Oh, Floss!" said Carrots, his feelings being beyond further expression.

That "some day" was a good way off, however, but "to-day" was here, and
a nice bright-looking to-day it was. How happy they were! How happy
Sybil was!

For, somehow, though she was dressed like a princess, though since
babyhood she had had _everything_ a child could wish for, though very
often, I must confess, she had had "her own way," a good deal more than
would have been good for most children, little Sybil was not spoilt. The
spoiling dropped off her like water down a duck's back, and auntie never
found out it had been there at all! Perhaps after all there is a kind of
spoiling that isn't spoiling--love and kindness, and even indulgence, do
not spoil when there is perfect trust and openness, and when a child at
the same time is taught the one great lesson, that the best happiness is
trying to make others happy too.

They played on the sands nearly all day, and Sybil, to her great
delight, was covered up from damage by one of Carrots' blouses. Th