n seems to
have borrowed from summer, and the air is as warm and balmy as June.
Great flocks of sea-gulls wheeled screaming round the cliffs, their
wings flashing in the sunshine; red admiral and tortoise-shell
butterflies still fluttered over late specimens of flowers, and the
bracken was brown and golden underfoot. The girls were wild with the
delight of a few hours' emancipation from school rules, and flew about
gathering belated harebells, and running to the top of any little
eminence to get the view. After about a mile on the hills, they dipped
down a steep sandy path that led to the shore. They found themselves in
a delightful cove, with rugged rocks on either side and a belt of hard
firm sand. The tide was fairly well out, so they followed the retreating
waves to the water's edge. A recent stormy day had flung up great masses
of seaweed and hundreds of star-fish. Dona, whose tastes had just begun
to awaken in the direction of natural history, poked about with great
enjoyment collecting specimens. There were shells to be had on the sand,
and mermaids' purses, and bunches of whelks' eggs, and lovely little
stones that looked capable of being polished on the lapidary wheel which
Miss Jones had set up in the carpentering-room. For lack of a basket
Dona filled her own handkerchief and commandeered Marjorie's for the
same purpose. For the first time since she had left home she looked
perfectly happy. Dona's tastes were always quiet. She did not like
hockey practices or any very energetic games. She did not care about
mixing with the common herd of her schoolfellows, and much preferred
the society of one, or at most two friends. To live in the depths of the
country was her ideal.

Marjorie, on the contrary, liked the bustle of life. While Dona
investigated the clumps of seaweed, she plied Elaine with questions
about the hospital. Marjorie was intensely patriotic. She followed every
event of the war keenly, and was thrilled by the experiences of her
soldier father and brothers. She was burning to do something to help--to
nurse the wounded, drive a transport wagon, act as secretary to a
staff-officer, or even be telephone operator over in France--anything
that would be of service to her country and allow her to feel that she
had played her part, however small, in the conduct of the Great War. As
she watched the sea, she thought not so much of its natural history
treasures as of submarines and floating mines, and her heart