he parlour--'Mayn't I see Celestina at all?'
Biddy went on. 'I think Alie's very----'

'Very what?' said her mother. 'Alie has been quietly waiting in the shop
for me as I told her.'

Alie came forward as she spoke.

'And Celestina is not in this morning,' said Mrs. Fairchild. 'She had a
headache, so I have sent her out a walk.'

Thus all Biddy's temper and jealousy had been thrown away. She felt
rather foolish as she followed her mother and Rosalys down the street.

After stopping for a moment at the grocer's, Mrs. Vane turned to go home
by the Parade, the same way by which the children had come to Seacove
that Saturday. It was a fine bright afternoon, still early--a little
breeze blew in from the sea--the tide was far out.

'Mayn't we go home by the shore, mamma?' Alie asked. 'It is nice firm
walking nearly all the way.'

Mrs. Vane consented: they all turned down a sort of short cart-track,
leading through the stony shingle to the smooth sands beyond. The sun
was still some height above the horizon, but the cold frosty air gave it
already the red evening look. Glancing upwards at it Biddy remembered
the day she had watched it setting and the good resolutions she had then
made. She almost felt as if the sun was looking at her and reminding
her of them, and a feeling of shame, not proud but humble, crept over
her. She went close up to her mother and slipped her hand through her
arm.

'Mamma,' she said very gently, 'I'm sorry for being so cross.'

'I am glad to hear you say so, Bride,' said her mother. She spoke very
gravely, and at first Bridget felt a little disappointed. But after a
moment's--less than a moment's--hesitation, the fat little hand felt
itself clasped and pressed with a kindly affection that, truth to tell,
Biddy was scarcely accustomed to. For there is no denying that she was a
very trying and tiresome little girl. And Mrs. Vane was quick and
sensitive, and of late she had had much anxiety and strain, and she was
not of a nature to take things calmly. Rosalys was of a much more even
and cheery temperament: she 'took after' her father, as the country-people
say. It was not without putting some slight force on herself that Biddy's
mother pressed the little hand; and that she did so was in great part
owing to a sudden remembrance of some words which Mrs. Fairchild had said
during their few minutes' conversation, which, as I told you, had been
principally about Bridget.

'Yes,' Celestina's mothe