and so, for the only time almost in her life,
she gave way to repining thoughts. All the gracious path by which a
kindly Providence had led her was obscured, and she thought of herself
merely as the orphan child of this poor dead thing that lay upon the
sand. The whole history of the past flooded back upon her. She saw
little Jim, so eager to escape from the gruesome sight; then Mike
McAravey approaching through the twilight, and herself as she ran up
against good George Hendrick; then rose up the horrid bewildering scene
at the inquest; and finally she seemed to stand in the bleak wind-blown
moorland churchyard, and before her was the nameless head-stone, "In
Memory of E. D." The sense of loneliness was complete as she stood
beneath the overhanging cliff exposed to the biting nor'-east wind.
With an effort she aroused herself, and looking up with tear-filled
eyes to the pale clear blue sky so far away, she resolutely turned back
into the warm sunshine that seemed the more dazzling after its
temporary withdrawal. It was almost school-time, and on the far
hill-side path Elsie's quick eyes caught sight of two or three tiny
little figures, as they trotted down the path towards her
cottage-school. In a moment all sadness was banished, and she felt
herself again.

"Have we not all one Father?" she murmured; "and have I not One to love
me who has said, 'Inasmuch as ye did it to the least of these, ye did
it unto Me'?"

Glancing again to the hill, she perceived that the children had
stopped, and were forming a little group as they looked backward up the
path.

"They 'll be late, my little loiterers," said Elsie, with a smile; "I
must scold them well. But what is it?"

An uncommon sight indeed for Tor Glen, and one that might well distract
the whole school's attention. Two discreet ponies were picking their
way down the zig-zag path, while behind walked a man. But greatest
wonder! on each pony was seated a real lady. Erect and gracefully,
too, did they keep their seats, as the patient beasts let themselves
slip down the gravelly path.

"It's early for tourists," thought Elsie, as she quietly walked on her
way.

The travellers and their attendant group of urchins had now passed out
of sight behind a screen of the thick foliage, which we have described
as adorning the sheltered bottom of the glen. Elsie thought no more of
the tourists. Their pleasure-seeking was a thing she had absolutely no
experience of, an