aying so. The poor child is heedless and provoking to a degree,
but she is very affectionate.'

Mrs. Vane did not seem annoyed; she was, on the contrary, rather glad of
what Mr. Vane said.

'Yes, she seems so sometimes, and I hope it is only her
childishness--but it is so impossible to make any lasting impression on
her. And I don't see how things are to improve with her. Rosalys was a
perfect little woman at her age. Bridget thinks of _nothing_--I have
seen it so much since we came here and during the bustle of the removal
from London. She lives like a complete baby--perhaps it is partly that
Alie is so unusually thoughtful and helpful, a real right-hand to me,
and Rough too for a boy is very sensible. So Biddy goes her own way,
nothing is expected of her, and she certainly fulfils the expectation,'
she wound up with a half smile.

Mr. Vane sat silent.

'She might be better with some companionship of her own age,' he said
in a few minutes. 'The give-and-take of even childish companionship is a
kind of training and discipline. As it is, she is almost like an only
child. Now, if Alie were away for a while, Bridget would have to try to
take her place.'

'I could not do without Alie, not just now certainly,' said Mrs. Vane
decidedly. 'We must just hope that somehow time will improve Bridget.'

'And don't be too hard on her,' said her father. 'I feel sure she means
well.'

'When she means anything,' replied Mrs. Vane; 'but she seldom thinks
enough for that.'

'I don't know about that,' said Mr. Vane doubtfully, 'still----'

But then something in the arrangement of the book-shelves caught his
eye, and no more was said of Biddy for the time.

Papa did not forget. Bridget got her fourpence the next day, a penny
from mamma and threepence from papa. And all troubles were thrown to the
winds, torn frocks and everything disagreeable forgotten, when she set
off with Rosalys and Randolph, under their maid's charge, for a visit to
Seacove, the wonderful bazaar being the real object of the walk.

Only a very slight misgiving came over her as papa stooped to kiss her
in the doorway; they met him on their way out.

'Be a sensible little woman to-day, my Biddy,' he said, 'and don't get
into any scrapes to worry your mamma.'

The child looked up into his face. Was it the yellowish morning light
from over the sea--for it was clear and bright though cold--that made
papa's face so pale? And yesterday he had looked so nice and