wo other families shared
Frogmore's roof with us) had begun to sing, and had continued her
performances till midnight; but I found my commiseration wasted, for
she said that it had soothed her, which was considerably more than
it had done me. After breakfast--which was late, on account of Aunt's
health--I proposed a stroll on the Promenade, or an inspection of the
tennis courts. "Bless my soul!" cried Auntie, "a person in my state
of health does not go to places all over promenades and tennis courts.
You won't find any such things at a nice quiet resort like Flatsands."
I felt a little dashed, but replied "that perhaps she was right,
and that it was a nice change to be without tennis; and that, as to
promenades, they were quite superfluous where there was a pier, and
a good band." "A pier, child!" she screamed. "You won't find any such
abominations as piers here, or German bands either. Do you think that
_I_ should come anywhere where there was a pier?" I felt the smile
on my face becoming fixed, but I mastered my feelings sufficiently to
murmur something about bathing before lunch.

"You can't bathe here," snapped Aunt--"they don't allow it. The shore
is too dangerous. But you can come out with me, if you like, to the
tradespeople--I see my bath-chair coming along the road."

And that, _Mr. Punch_, is how I spent my fortnight at Flatsands.
Walking by the side of my Aunt's chair, and giving orders to the
tradespeople in the morning; walking beside the same chair and blowing
up the tradespeople for not having carried out the orders, in the
afternoon; sitting in a hot room from five to nine o'clock, then lying
awake till midnight, listening to the drawing-room young lady singing
Italian and German songs out of tune, and with an English accent.

Three things only occurred to in any way vary the monotony of my
existence. The first was the arrival of the singing young lady's
brother. He was seventeen, and his lungs were as thick as his boots.
He tobogganed down-stairs on a tea-tray the first day he arrived; the
second day he passed me in the hall and asked, with a grin, "if I
was one of the mummies in this old mausoleum?" the third day he left,
saying that the place was "too jolly beastly slow" for him. The second
event was the sudden extraordinary mania that Aunt (did I tell you
she was rich?) took for the singing lady. I discovered, much to my
chagrin, I must say, that often, instead of going to bed at nine, as
I believ