ll give you a good start, Alie, and Biddy can run on in front and wait
till we call to her that we're off.'

Bridget trotted off as she was told, obediently. She did not care much
for running. Her legs were short and she was rather fat, but she did
not like to complain. She ran on, though slowly, till at last Randolph
shouted to her to stop. Then she stood still waiting till he called to
her again, for he and Rosalys took some time to settle how much of a
start Alie was to have--from where she stood, Biddy heard them talking
and measuring.

'I wish they wouldn't run races,' thought the little girl. 'They're so
big compared with me--they've such much longer legs. I shan't like
Seacove if they're going always to run races. In London they couldn't in
the streets; it was only when we went in the gardens, and that wasn't
every day, it was too far to go. I wish I had a brother or a sister
littler than me; it's too much difference between Alie and me, thirteen
and eight. I wish----'

But here came a whoop from behind.

'Off, Biddy; look sharp--one, two, three.'

Poor Biddy--off she set as fast as she _could_ go, which is not saying
much. She puffed and panted, for she was not without a spirit of her own
and did not want to be overtaken _too_ soon. And for a time Rough's
cries of encouragement, 'Gee-up, old woman,' 'Famous, Biddy,' 'You'll
win yet,' and so on, spurred her to fresh exertions. But not for long;
she felt her powers flagging, and as first Alie and then Rough, both
apparently as fresh as ever, passed her at full speed, she gave in.

'It's no use. I can't run races. I wish you wouldn't make me,' she said,
as in a minute or two the two others came flying back again to where she
stood, a convenient goal for their return race.

'But you ran splendidly for a bit,' said Randolph; 'and I'll tell you
what, Biddy, it would be a very good thing for you to run a good deal
more than you do. It'll make you grow and stop you getting too fat.'

'I'm not fatter than you were when you were as little as me, Roughie.
Nurse says so--you were a regular roundabout till you had the measles;
mamma says so too,' replied Bridget philosophically.

'I'm quite hot,' said Rosalys; 'fancy being hot in January! But we'd
better not stand still or we'll get a chill. Isn't it nice to come out
alone? I'd like to walk to Seacove--I want to see what it's like, but of
course we mustn't go so far. Mamma said we must stay on the shore.'

'If it