was summer we might dig and make sand-castles,' said Biddy
regretfully. Digging in the sand was an amusement much more to her taste
than running races.

'I think that's stupid--it's such baby play,' Rosalys replied. 'But come
on, do. I'm going to climb up to the top of that bank--that's the
sand-hills papa was speaking about.'

It was more tiring work than she had expected. Before they got to the
top of the bank Alie had decided that they would have done better to
remain where they were, on the smooth firm sand down below, but once at
the top she changed again. What fun can be more delightful than playing
in sand-hills, jumping from a miniature summit to the valley beneath
with no fear of hurting one's self even if one comes to grief and rolls
ignominiously as far as one can go! How helplessly one wades in the
shifting, unstable footing--tumbling over with a touch, like a house
built of cards! The children's laughter sounded merrily in the clear
cold air; Bridget plunged about like a little porpoise in the water, and
Rosalys quite forgot that she had attained the dignity of her teens.

But a bell ringing suddenly some little way off caught their ears.

'That's papa ringing,' said Randolph. 'He said he'd have the big
dinner-bell rung when it was time for me to go in. I'm going to walk to
the town or the village, or whatever it is, with him. Good-bye,
girls. It's only three o'clock--you can stay another half-hour,' and off
he ran.

'Let's go down to the shore again,' said Alie. 'Mamma said _perhaps_
she'd come out a little, and she'd never see us up here.'

Bridget hung back a little.

'I daresay she won't come out,' she said. 'Do stay up here, Alie. If
mamma comes out she'll only talk to you and I'll be all alone. I don't
want her.'

'Oh, Bride, that's not nice. I'm sure mamma likes to talk to you too,
only you see I'm older, and there's often things you wouldn't understand
about perhaps, and----'

'I know--it's always the same. I'm too little to be any use. I know
you're older and sensibler, and I don't mean that mamma's not kind. But
families should be settled better--and--oh, Alie, I have so torn my
frock, and it's my afternoon one--my new merino.'

[Illustration: '--and--oh, Alie, I have so torn my frock, and its my
afternoon one--my new merino.' P. 27.]

Rosalys looked much concerned.

'_What_ a pity!' she exclaimed. 'I wish we hadn't played in the sand.
But really, Biddy, you are very unlucky. I've b