y of the cabinet and examine it for yourself. It is
filled with curious foreign shells, and if you care for them you shall
have some to take home with you."

And with this delightful anticipation I fell peacefully asleep.

Chapter II

MY aunt was as good as her word. The next morning, when breakfast was
over, she went up with me to my little room and unlocked the cabinet. It
was, as she had said, filled with lovely curious shells, of every size
and shape. Some of the trays were in considerable disorder.

"You may put them straight for me, Lois, my dear," she said, "and when
you have done so, you may play with them every day while you are here.
And when you go away I shall give you a few. I cannot give you many, for
the cabinet was arranged and given to me by my dear brother, who is
dead, and I should not like to spoil the look of it. But before you go
you may choose twenty to take away with you."

"Thank you, Aunt Lois," I said soberly. But she must have seen by my
face that I was pleased, for she added--

"And when I die, Lois, you shall have the cabinet and all the shells."

"Thank you, Aunt Lois," I said again, not indeed knowing what else to
say, though I felt rather uncomfortable when she talked of dying.

After this, for some days to come, I was perfectly happy. Morning, noon,
and night I was at the shells. The only trouble was that it was a grief
to me ever to leave them, and of course, as I had been brought to
Sandilands partly for the benefit of the sea-air, my mother could not
allow me to spend all my time in one small room.

One day, just after our early dinner, I had escaped to my treasures as
usual, when Emilia followed me upstairs to tell me to put on my hat and
cape for a walk by the sea-shore. My face fell, but of course I did not
venture to make any objection.

"Can't you bear to tear yourself away from your shells even for an
hour?" said Emilia. "What a queer child you are! What can you find to
play at with them; they are all arranged in perfect order long ago?"

"They are so pretty. I like putting their colours together," I said,
fondly touching, as I spoke, the shells of one tray, which were my
especial favourites.

"Yes, they _are_ pretty," said Emilia. "How lovely that delicate pink
one is, in the middle of those dark-brown tortoiseshell-looking ones! It
is like a princess surrounded by her slaves."

I started with pleasure. Emilia's suggestion opened a new world to me.
Here before