iting a
day or two, Mrs. Kenton could not refrain from asking her.

"Oh, I forgot," said Ellen. "I haven't read them yet."

"Haven't read them!" said Mrs. Kenton. Then, after reflection, she
added, "You are a strange girl, Ellen," and did not venture to say more.

"I suppose I thought I should have to answer them, and that made me
careless. But I will read them." Her mother was silent, and presently
Ellen added: "I hate to think of the past. Don't you, momma?"

"It is certainly very pleasant here," said Mrs. Kenton, cautiously.
"You're enjoying yourself--I mean, you seem to be getting so much
stronger."

"Why, momma, why do you talk as if I had been sick?" Ellen asked.

"I mean you're so much interested."

"Don't I go about everywhere, like anybody?" Ellen pursued, ignoring her
explanation.

"Yes, you certainly do. Mr. Breckon seems to like going about."

Ellen did not respond to the suggestion except to say: "We go into all
sorts of places. This morning we went up on that schooner that's drawn
up on the beach, and the old man who was there was very pleasant. I
thought it was a wreck, but Mr. Breckon says they are always drawing
their ships that way up on the sand. The old man was patching some
of the wood-work, and he told Mr. Breckon--he can speak a little
Dutch--that they were going to drag her down to the water and go fishing
as soon as he was done. He seemed to think we were brother and sister."
She flushed a little, and then she said: "I believe I like the dunes as
well as anything. Sometimes when those curious cold breaths come in
from the sea we climb up in the little hollows on the other side and sit
there out of the draft. Everybody seems to do it."

Apparently Ellen was submitting the propriety of the fact to her mother,
who said: "Yes, it seems to be quite the same as it is at home. I
always supposed that it was different with young people here. There is
certainly no harm in it."

Ellen went on, irrelevantly. "I like to go and look at the Scheveningen
women mending the nets on the sand back of the dunes. They have such
good gossiping times. They shouted to us last evening, and then laughed
when they saw us watching them. When they got through their work they
got up and stamped off so strong, with their bare, red arms folded into
their aprons, and their skirts sticking out so stiff. Yes, I should like
to be like them."

"You, Ellen!"

"Yes; why not?"

Mrs. Kenton found nothing better to answ