ad. At such moments she wondered whether her friend
would be sorry too when the time came for them to part, and whether she
really cared at all about her. It was difficult to find out, for Sophia
Jane was not given to express herself affectionately, or to use terms of
endearment to anyone. She had never been accustomed to it. The two
people to whom she showed most attachment were Monsieur La Roche and his
sister, and even to these she was never what Mademoiselle called
"expansive." Remembering this, Susan felt it was quite possible that
Sophia Jane would see her depart with an unmoved face and no word of
regret, and sometimes this made her unhappy. She would have given a
good deal for a word of fondness from her once despised companion, but
all her efforts to extract it were useless.

"Shall you be dull after I go away?" she would ask, and Sophia Jane
would answer shortly:

"You're not going yet. What's the good of talking about it?"

A day was now drawing near in which both the little girls were much
interested--Sophia Jane's birthday. Susan's present, prepared with much
caution and secrecy, was quite ready, and put away in a drawer till the
time came. She had bought the wax head out of Miss Powter's shop which
Sophia Jane had admired long ago, and fixed it to the body of the old
doll. Then little by little she had carefully made a complete set of
clothing for it, after the pattern of those Grace wore, and Mademoiselle
Delphine had added the promised grey silk bonnet to the costume.
Altogether it made a substantial and handsome present, and Susan often
went to look at it, and pictured to herself her companion's surprise and
pleasure. And besides this there was something else to look forward to,
for Aunt Hannah had promised that on this same occasion the children
should go to Pegwell Bay and have shrimps for tea.

The Pegwell Bay shrimps were already famous in those days, and were
considered far superior to any caught elsewhere; but the place itself
had not yet become noisy and crowded as was the case in after years. It
was still a quiet and beautiful little bay with only one countrified inn
standing close to the shore. In the garden of this there were green
arbours, or boxes, with neat tables and chairs, where you might sit at
your ease, look out over the sea, watch the vessels sailing in the
distance, and eat the dusky-brown shrimps for which Pegwell Bay was
well-known. To these were added small new l