n thing to have the charge of children? When one thinks what they
_should_ be, and again when one thinks what they _may_ be, is it not a
solemn, almost too solemn a thought? Only we, who feel this so deeply,
take heart when we remember that the Great Gardener who never makes
mistakes has promised to help us; even out of _our_ mistakes to bring
good.

As I have said, the affair of the lost half-sovereign did not leave any
lastingly painful impression on Carrots, but for some days he seemed
unusually quiet and pale and a little sad. He had caught cold, too, with
falling asleep on the dressing-room floor, nurse said, for the weather
was still exceedingly chilly, though the spring was coming on. So
altogether he was rather a miserable looking little Carrots.

He kept out of the way and did not complain, but "mamma" and nurse and
Floss did not need complaints to make them see that their little man was
not quite himself, and they were extra kind to him.

There came just then some very dull rainy days, regular rainy days, not
stormy, but to the children much more disagreeable than had they been
so. For in _stormy_ weather at the seaside there is too much excitement
for anyone to think whether it is disagreeable or not--there is the
splendid sight of the angry, troubled sea, there are the wonderful
"storm songs" of the wind to listen to. Of course, as Carrots used to
say, at such times it is "dedful" to think of the poor sailors; but even
in thinking of them there is something that takes one's thoughts quite
away from one's self, and one's own worries and troubles--all the
marvellous stories of shipwreck and adventure, from Grace Darling to old
Sinbad, come rushing into one's mind, and one feels as if the sea were
the only part of the world worth living on.

But even at the seaside, regular, steady, "stupid" rainy days are
trying. Carrots sat at the nursery window one of these dull afternoons
looking out wistfully.

"Floss," he said, for Floss was sitting on the floor learning her
geography for the next day, "Floss, it _is_ so raining."

"I know," said Floss, stopping a minute in her "principal rivers of
northern Europe." "I wish there wasn't so much rain, and then there
wouldn't be so many rivers; or perhaps if there weren't so many rivers
there wouldn't be so much rain. I wonder which it is!"

"Which beginned first--rivers or rain?" said Carrots, meditatively,
"_that_ would tell."

"I'm sure I don't know, and I don't