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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30402 ***
+
+THE MAKING OF MONA.
+
+BY MABEL QUILLER-COUCH.
+(Author of 'Troublesome Ursula,' 'A Pair of Red-Polls,' 'Kitty Trenire,'
+'The Carroll Girls', Etc., Etc.)
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY E. WALLCOUSINS.
+
+LONDON
+SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.
+NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
+
+
+[Illustration: Granny stood staring at her broken treasures.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The kettle sat on the hob, and Mona sat on the floor, both as idle as idle
+could be.
+
+"I will just wait till the kettle begins to sing," thought Mona; and
+became absorbed in her book again.
+
+After a while the kettle, at any rate, seemed to repent of its laziness,
+for it began to hum softly, and then to hum loudly, and then to sing, but
+Mona was completely lost in the story she was reading, and had no mind for
+repentance or anything else.  She did not hear the kettle's song, nor even
+the rattling of its cover when it boiled, though it seemed to be trying in
+every way to attract her attention.  It went on trying, too, until at last
+it had no power to try any longer, for the fire had died low, and the
+kettle grew so chilly it had not even the heart to 'hum,' but sat on the
+black, gloomy-looking stove, looking black and gloomy too, and, if kettles
+have any power to think, it was probably thinking that poor old granny
+Barnes' tea would be scarcely worth drinking when she came home presently,
+tired and hungry, from her walk to Milbrook, for Mona, even if she
+realised that the water had boiled, would never dream of emptying it away
+and filling the kettle afresh, as she should do.
+
+But Mona had no thought for kettles, or tea, or granny either, for her
+whole mind, her eyes, her ears, and all her senses were with the heroine
+of the fascinating story she was absorbed in; and who could remember fires
+and kettles and other commonplace things when one was driving through a
+lovely park in a beautiful pony carriage, drawn by cream-coloured ponies,
+and seated beside an exquisitely dressed little lady who had more money
+than she could count, and insisted on sharing all with her companion?
+
+Mona certainly could not.  She never could manage to remember two things
+at the same time; so, as all her thoughts were absorbed by her
+golden-haired friend in the blue silk frock, granny in her old black
+merino and heavy boots was forgotten as completely as the fire, and it was
+not until someone came stumbling up the garden path and a tired voice
+said, "Well, dearie, I'm come at last, how have you got on since I've been
+gone?" that she remembered anything about either; and when she did she
+felt almost sorry that granny had come quite so soon, for if she had only
+been a few minutes later Mona might just have finished the chapter.
+
+"Oh, I'm so tired!" groaned granny, dropping wearily into her arm-chair.
+"I have been longing for a nice cup of tea for this hour and more."
+Then, as her eyes fell on the black grate, her voice changed to one of
+dismay.  "Why, Mona!" she cried, "the fire's gone clean out!  Oh, dear!
+oh, dear!"  Granny's voice was full of disappointment.  With anyone but
+Mona she would have been very cross indeed, but she was rarely cross with
+her.  "I daresay it'll catch up again quickly with a few sticks,"
+she added patiently.
+
+Mona, really ashamed of herself, ran out to the little wood-rick which
+stood always in the back-yard.  "Stupid old fire," she muttered
+impatiently, "of course it must go out, just to spite me because I wanted
+to have a little read," and she jerked out the sticks with such force that
+a whole pile of faggots came tumbling down to the ground.  She did not
+stay, though, to pick them up again, for she really was sorry for her
+carelessness, and wanted to try and catch up the fire as quickly as
+possible.  She had fully meant to have a nice fire, and the tea laid,
+and the kettle on the point of boiling, and everything as nice as could be
+by the time her grandmother got back from the town.  But one never got any
+credit for what one meant to do, thought Mona with a feeling of self-pity.
+
+By the time she got back to the kitchen her grandmother had taken off her
+bonnet and shawl and was putting on her apron.  "My feet do ache," she
+sighed.  "The roads are so rough, and it's a good step to Milbrook and
+back--leastways it seems so when you're past sixty."
+
+Mona felt another pang of shame, for it was she who should have gone to
+the town to do the shopping; but she had not wanted to, and had complained
+of being tired, and so granny had gone herself, and Mona had let her.
+
+"Let me unlace your boots, granny, and get your slippers for you."
+She thought she would feel less guilty if she did something to make her
+grandmother more comfortable.  "You sit down in your chair, I'll do all
+that's got to be done."
+
+Mrs. Barnes leaned back with a sigh of relief.  "Bless the dear child,"
+she thought affectionately, "how she does think for her old granny!"
+She had already forgotten that Mona had let the fire go out, and neglected
+to make any preparations for her home-coming; and Mona, who could be very
+thoughtful and kind if she chose, knelt down and unlaced the heavy boots,
+and slipped the warm, comfortable slippers on to the tired old feet,
+laughing and chattering cheerfully the while.
+
+"Now you are to sit there, gran, and not to dare to move to do one single
+thing.  I'm going to talk to that fire, and you'll see how I'll coax him
+up in no time, and if that kettle doesn't sing in five minutes I'll take
+the poker to him."  And, whether it was because of her coaxing or not,
+the fire soon flamed cheerfully, and the kettle, being already warm, began
+to sing almost as soon as Mona had got the cloth spread.
+
+While she waited for it to come to boiling point, she sat down on her
+little stool by the fire, and took up her book again.  "Just to have a
+little look at the pictures for a minute," she explained.  "Oh, granny, it
+is such a lovely story, I must tell you about it."
+
+"Yes, dear, I'd like to--some day."
+
+But Mona did not hear the 'some day.' She was already pouring into
+granny's ear all she had read, and granny interjected patiently,
+"Yes, dearie," and "Oh my!" and "How nice!" though she was so faint and
+weary she could not take in half of Mona's chatter.
+
+Presently the kettle boiled again, but Mona was once more lost to
+everything but her story, and it was granny who got up and made the tea.
+
+"It's all ready, dearie," she said, as she sank into her chair once more.
+"You must tell me the rest while you are having it.  Oh, there's no butter
+out."  She had to get up again and drag her aching feet to the little
+larder for the butter, and as soon as she had settled herself again she
+had to get up and get a teaspoon.  Mona had forgotten a half of the things
+she should have laid, and she had forgotten, too, that granny was tired.
+
+"And oh, granny," she went on breathlessly, "on her birthday Pauline wore
+a muslin dress, with blue forget-me-nots worked all over it, and a blue
+sash, and--and a hat just covered with forget-me-nots."
+
+"She must have looked like a bed of them," remarked Granny.
+
+"Oh, _I_ think she looked perfectly sweet!  I'd love to have clothes like
+she had.  Of course, she didn't have to do _any_ work--nothing at all all
+day long."
+
+"Well, I know a little girl who doesn't do much," remarked granny quietly,
+but Mona did not hear her.
+
+"Granny, do you think I'll be able to have a new hat this summer?
+Mine is ever so shabby--and shall I have forget-me-nots on it?  I'd rather
+have forget-me-nots than anything.  I suppose I couldn't have a blue sash
+to wear with it, could I, Gran?  I don't think they cost very very much.
+Millie Higgins, in at Seacombe, had a plaid one, and she was sure it
+didn't cost a great deal, she said.  Her uncle brought it to her,
+but Millie never wears it.  She doesn't like plaid; she wishes it was
+pink.  I'd wear it if 'twas mine, but I'd rather have a blue one.  Do you
+think I can have a new hat, granny?"
+
+"We will see.  If your father is able to send some more money for you I
+might be able to manage it; but with your stepmother always ailing his
+money seems to be all wanted for doctor's bills and medicines.  It does
+seem hard."
+
+Mona's face fell.  "And I don't suppose the medicine does any good, do
+you, granny?"
+
+"Some folks believe in it, and I s'pose if you believe in it it does you
+good.  For my own part, I never had but two bottles in my life, and I
+don't see that I'm any the worse for going without.  In fact, I----"
+
+Mona, who always sat at the side of the table facing the window, sprang to
+her feet excitedly.  "Why, it's the postman! and he's coming in here,"
+she interrupted, and was at the door to meet him before he had power to
+knock.  She came back more slowly, carefully studying the one letter she
+held.  "It's from father," she said eagerly, as she at last handed it to
+her grandmother.  "Oh, granny!  I wonder if he has sent any money?"
+
+Granny was evidently surprised.  "A letter from your father!  Whatever can
+he be writing about?  I haven't written to him since I had his last.
+I hope he isn't having more trouble."
+
+"Perhaps he has written to know why you haven't," said Mona shrewdly.
+
+"Oh, granny, do make haste and open the letter, I am longing to know
+what's inside!"
+
+But letters did not come every day to Hillside Cottage, so when they did
+they must be made the most of.  Mrs. Barnes examined the envelope back and
+front; the handwriting, the stamp, the postmark; then she had to go to a
+drawer to get a skewer with which to slit the envelope, then her
+spectacles had to be found, polished, and put on, and at long last she
+took out the letter and began to read.
+
+Mona chafed with impatience as she watched her.  Her eyes looked ready to
+pop out of her head with eagerness.  "Why don't you let me read it to
+you?" she cried at last, irritably, and regretted her words as soon as
+they were spoken.  Granny laid the letter on the table beside her and
+fixed her eyes on Mona instead.  "I am not got past reading my own letters
+yet," she said sternly, looking out over the tops of her spectacles at
+her.  Mona was dreadfully afraid they would fall off, and then the
+polishing and fixing process would all have to be gone through again,
+but she had the wisdom to hold her tongue this time, and granny took up
+the letter again, and at last began to read it, while Mona tried hard to
+read granny's face.
+
+She did not utter aloud one word of what she was reading, but presently
+she gave a little half-suppressed cry.
+
+"Oh, granny, what's the matter?"  Mona could keep quiet no longer.
+
+"Oh, dear! oh, dear!  Here's a pretty fine thing.  Your father wants you
+to go home."
+
+Mona's face fell again.  Then he had not sent any money, and she would not
+be able to have her hat!  For the moment nothing else seemed to matter.
+
+"What does he want me home for?" she asked sullenly.
+
+"Your stepmother has been ill again, and the doctor says she mustn't be
+left alone, and must have someone to help her.  She's terrible nervous
+when your father's away to the fishing, so you've got to be fetched home."
+Mrs. Barnes spoke resentfully.  Her daughter, Mona's mother, had died when
+Mona was a sturdy little maiden of ten, and for eighteen months Mona had
+run wild.  Her father could not bear to part with her, nor would he have
+anyone to live with them.  So Mona had been his housekeeper, or rather,
+the house had kept itself, for Mona had taken no care of it, nor of her
+father's comforts, nor of her own clothes, or his.  She just let
+everything go, and had a gloriously lazy, happy time, with no one to
+restrain her, or make her do anything she did not want to do.
+
+She was too young, of course, to be put in such a position; but she did
+not even do what she might have done, and no one was surprised, and no one
+blamed her father--no one, at least, but Mrs. Barnes--when at the end of
+eighteen months he married pretty, gentle Lucy Garland, one of the
+housemaids at the Squire's.
+
+Mrs. Barnes, though, resented very strongly anyone being put in her dead
+daughter's place, with control over her daughter's child, and she had
+written angrily enough to Peter, demanding that Mona should be given up to
+her.  And though he doubted the wisdom of it, to please and pacify her,
+Peter Carne had let her have the child.  "Not for good," he said,
+"for I can't part with her altogether, but for a long visit."
+
+"If she puts Mona against Lucy, it'll be a bad job," he thought
+anxiously, "and mischief may be done that it'll take more than I know to
+undo."
+
+However, Mona felt none of the dislike of her stepmother that her
+grandmother felt.  In fact, she was too happy-go-lucky and fond of change
+to feel very strongly about anything.  She had got her father's home and
+all his affairs into such a muddle she was not sorry to go right away and
+leave it all.  She was tired of even the little housework she did.
+She hated having to get up and light the fire, and, on the whole, she was
+very glad for someone else to step in and take it all off her shoulders.
+And as she had left her home before her stepmother came to it, she had not
+experienced what it was to have someone in authority over her.
+
+So Mona felt no real grievance against her stepmother, and, with all her
+faults, she was too healthy-minded to invent one.  Her grandmother's not
+too kind remarks about her had fallen on indifferent ears, and,
+fortunately, had had no effect except to make Mona feel a sort of mild
+scorn for anyone so constantly ailing as Lucy Carne was.
+
+She felt no sympathy for the cause of the ill-health, even though she knew
+that it all began one bitter, stormy night when Lucy and the wives of the
+other men who were out at sea stood for hours watching for the first signs
+of the little storm-tossed boats, in the agony of their hearts, deaf and
+blind, and entirely unconscious of the driving sheets of rain and the
+biting east wind which soaked and chilled them to the bone.
+
+When at daybreak the storm lulled, and the boats, with all safe on board,
+were seen beating up before the wind, all the misery and wet and cold were
+forgotten as they hurried joyfully home to make up big fires and prepare
+hot food for the exhausted men.  But more than one woman paid heavily for
+the night's experience, and Lucy Carne was among them.
+
+For days she had lain writhing in the agony of rheumatic fever.  For days
+she had lain at the gates of death, and when at last she came back to
+life again, it was such a wreck of her old self that she was scarcely able
+to do anything.  And this in Granny Barnes' eyes had been an added
+grievance.
+
+It was a greater grievance than ever now, for it meant that her
+grandchild, her very own daughter's child, was to be taken from her, to
+work for the stranger who had taken her daughter's place.
+
+Fortunately, Mona had no such foolish thoughts.  Her only grievance was
+that the money which might have been spent on a new hat would have to be
+spent on the carrier.  "And nobody will be any the better for it, except
+Mr. Darbie, and he's got lots already.  They say he has a whole bagful in
+a box under his bed."
+
+"Your stepmother will be better off.  She'll have you," said Granny Barnes
+crossly.  "Well, the letter's spoilt my tea for me.  Anyway, I don't want
+anything more.  I've had enough for one while."
+
+Mona looked surprised.  "Oh, has it! I thought you were hungry, granny.
+I am," and she helped herself to another slice of bread and butter.
+"I wonder which day I'd better go?--and I must wear my best frock, mustn't
+I?  Such a lot of people go by the van, and you've got to sit so close you
+can't help seeing if anybody's clothes are shabby."
+
+"Um, you seem to have thought it all out, but you don't seem to think
+anything of leaving me, nor of what my feelings may be.  You'd better wear
+your best frock and your best hat too, then your father and your
+stepmother will see that you want something new for Sundays.  It's as well
+folk should learn that all the money can't be spent on doctors and
+physic--that there's other things wanted too!"
+
+But this speech only sent Mona's expectations higher, and lessened her
+regrets at leaving.  If going home to Seacombe and her new mother meant
+having a new hat and dress, she would only be the more pleased at having
+to go.  She was so occupied with these thoughts that she did not notice
+her grandmother rise and leave the kitchen, nor did she see the tears in
+the sad old eyes.  But her dreams of a journey, clad all in her best,
+were suddenly broken in upon by a sharp scream.  The scream came from the
+backyard.  Mona flew out at once.  It was getting dark out of doors now,
+but not too dark for her to see her grandmother stretched on the ground
+with faggots of wood lying all around her.
+
+For a moment Mona's heart seemed to stand still with fear.  She thought
+her grandmother was killed, or, at any rate, had broken her leg.  Then, to
+her intense relief, Mrs. Barnes groaned, and began to rouse herself.
+
+"However did these things come scattered about like this, I should like to
+know," she cried angrily.  But in her relief at knowing she was able to
+move and speak Mona did not mind granny's crossness.
+
+"Didn't you pull them down?"
+
+"I pull them down." Granny's voice was shrill with indignation.  "It was
+they pulled me down!  I wonder I wasn't killed outright.  It must have
+been those cats that knocked them over.  They are always ranging all over
+the yard.  I shall tell Mrs. Lane if she can't keep them in she'll have to
+get rid of them.  Oh, dear, what a shaking I've had, and I might have
+broke my leg and my head and everything.  Well, can't you try an' give me
+a hand to help me up?"
+
+But Mona was standing dumb-stricken.  It had come back to her at last.
+It was she who had pulled down the faggots and left them.  She had meant
+to go out again and pick them up, and, of course, had forgotten about
+them, and she might have been the cause of a terrible accident!
+She was so shocked and so full of remorse, she could not find a word to
+utter.  Fortunately, it was dark, and her grandmother was too absorbed to
+notice her embarrassment.  All her time was taken up in getting on to her
+feet again and peering about her to try and catch sight of the cats.
+
+Perhaps if granny had been less determined to wage war on the cats,
+Mona might have found courage to make her confession, but while she waited
+for a chance to speak her courage ebbed away.  She had done so many wrong
+things that afternoon, she was ashamed to own to more, and, after all, she
+thought, it would not make it better for granny if she did know who really
+scattered the faggots.  So in the end Mona held her tongue, and contented
+herself with giving what assistance she could.
+
+"This is Black Monday for me!" she said to herself as she helped her
+grandmother into the house again.  "Never mind, I'll begin better
+to-morrow.  There's one good thing, there's no real harm done."
+
+She was not so sure, though, that 'no harm was done' when she woke the
+next morning and heard loud voices and sound of quarrelling coming from
+the garden.  She soon, indeed, began to feel that there had been a great
+deal of harm done.
+
+"Well, what I say is," her grandmother cried shrilly, "your cats were
+nearly the death of me, and I'll trouble you to keep them in your own
+place."
+
+"And what I say is," cried her neighbour, "my cats were never near your
+faggot rick.  They didn't go into your place at all last night; they were
+both asleep by my kitchen fire from three in the afternoon till after we'd
+had our supper.  Me and my husband both saw them.  You can ask him
+yourself if you like."
+
+"I shan't ask him.  I wouldn't stoop to bandy words about it.  I know, and
+I've a right to my own opinion."
+
+"Do you mean to say you don't believe what I say?" cried Mrs. Lane
+indignantly.  "Do you mean to tell me I'm telling an untruth?
+Well, Mrs. Barnes, if you won't speak to my husband, and won't believe me,
+perhaps you'll ask your Mona!  I daresay she can tell you how the faggots
+got scattered.  She was out there, I saw her from----"
+
+"That's right! Try and put it off on the poor child! Do you expect me to
+believe that my Mona would have left those faggots----"
+
+"Ask her, that's all," said Mrs. Lane, meaningly.  "And now I've done.
+I ain't going to have anything more to say.  You're too vi'lent and
+onreasonable, Mrs. Barnes, and I'll trouble you not to address me again
+till you've 'pologised."
+
+Granny laughed, a short sarcastic laugh.  "'Pologise!" she cried shrilly,
+"and me in the right too!  No, not if I lived next door to you for fifty
+years, I wouldn't 'pologise.  When you've 'pologised to me, Mrs. Lane,
+I'll begin to think about speaking to you again."
+
+Mona, standing shivering by the window, listened to it all with a sick
+feeling of shame and dismay.  "Oh, why does granny say such dreadful
+things!  Oh, I wish I'd spoken out at once!  Now, when granny asks me,
+I shall have to tell her, and oh," miserably, "won't she be angry?"
+
+But Mona escaped that ordeal.  Her grandmother did not mention the
+subject, for one reason; she felt too unwell; an outburst of anger always
+made her ill; and for another, she was already ashamed of herself and of
+what she had said.  Altogether, she was so uncomfortable about the whole
+matter, and so ashamed, and vexed, she wanted to try to forget all about
+it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+John Darbie and his one-horse van journeyed from Milbrook to Seacombe
+every Tuesday and Friday, passing Mrs. Barnes' cottage on their way;
+and on Wednesdays and Saturdays he journeyed home again.  The two places
+were only ten miles apart, but, as John's horse 'Lion' never travelled
+faster than three miles an hour, and frequent stops had to be made to pick
+up passengers and luggage, and put down other passengers and other
+luggage, the journey was seldom accomplished in less than six hours.
+
+The day that Mona travelled to Seacombe the journey took longer than
+usual, for they had to stop at Barnes Gate--an old turnpike--to pick up a
+couple of young pigs, which were to be brought by a farm boy to meet them
+there; and as the pigs refused to be picked up, and were determined to
+race back to their home, it took John and the farmer's boy, and some of
+the passengers, quite a long time to persuade them that their fate lay in
+another direction.
+
+Mona, homesick and depressed, was quite glad of the distraction, though
+she felt sorry for the poor pigs.  At that moment she felt sorry for
+anyone or anything which had to leave its old home for a new one.
+
+Only a few days had elapsed since that evening when her father's letter
+had come, and her grandmother had fallen over the faggots, but such long,
+unhappy days they had been.  Her grandmother had been silent and
+depressed, and she herself had been very unhappy, and everything had
+seemed wrong.  Sometimes she had longed to be gone, and the parting over.
+Yet, when at last the day came, and she had to say good-bye to granny,
+and her own little bedroom, and the cottage, and to leave without saying
+good-bye to Mrs. Lane, it seemed almost more than she could bear.
+She looked out at the cottage and at granny, standing waving her
+handkerchief, but she could scarcely see either because of the mist in her
+eyes, and, when at last the van turned a corner which cut them off
+entirely from view, the mist in her eyes changed to rain.
+
+If it had not been for the other people in the van, Mona would have jumped
+out and run back again, and have confessed all to granny, and have been
+happy once more.  She knew that if she asked granny to forgive her,
+she would do so before long, even if she was vexed with her at first.
+
+But Mona's courage failed her.  The people in the van would try to stop
+her, and very likely would succeed, and there would be such a chattering
+and fuss.  Her spirit sank at the thought of it, and so she hesitated and
+wavered until it was too late.
+
+It was not to be wondered at that she welcomed the little scene with the
+pigs at the four cross-roads, and felt quite glad when Mr. Darbie asked
+her to get out and stand at the end of one of the roads to keep the poor
+little things from running down it.
+
+"We shan't get to Seacombe till nightfall," grumbled the old man when at
+last he had got the pair into two sacks, and had fastened them up securely
+on the tail-board of the van.
+
+"And I've got to catch the five o'clock train from there," said one of the
+passengers sourly.  "If ever you want to be a little bit earlier than
+usual, you're bound to be later.  It's always the way."
+
+Old John Darbie always recovered his temper when other people had lost
+theirs.  He realised how foolish they looked and sounded.  "Aw, don't you
+worry, missus," he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
+"She'll wait for me.  They wouldn't let no train start 'fore me and my
+passengers was in!"
+
+All the rest of the passengers laughed, Mona too, at which the sour-faced
+woman glared at them angrily.  Then they jogged on again, and by that time
+Mona had recovered sufficiently to be able to take more interest in her
+surroundings.
+
+She noticed that the woman beside her, and the woman opposite her, were
+looking her up and down, and she felt very glad that she had on her best
+hat and dress.  She did wish, though, that she had mended the hole in her
+gloves, for one of the women seemed more attracted by them than by
+anything else, and it was really rather embarrassing.  She longed to put
+her hands behind her back to hide them, but that would have looked too
+pointed; so, instead, she turned round and looked out of the window,
+pretending to be lost to everything but the view.
+
+It was a very pretty road that they were travelling, but very hilly,
+and Lion's pace grew, if possible, even slower.  One or two of the
+passengers complained loudly, but Mona was enjoying herself thoroughly
+now.  To her everything was of interest, from the hedges and the ploughed
+fields, just showing a tinge of green, to the cottages and farms they
+passed here and there.  To many people each mile would have seemed just
+like the last, but to Mona each had a charm of its own.  She knew all the
+houses by sight, and knew the people who dwelt in some of them, and when
+by and by the van drew near to Seacombe, and at last, between a dip in the
+land, she caught her first glimpse of the sea, her heart gave a great
+leap, and a something caught in her throat.  This was home, this was her
+real home.  Mona knew it now, if she had never realised it before.
+
+At Hillside something had always been lacking--she could hardly have told
+what, but somehow, she had never loved the place itself.  It had never
+been quite 'home' to her, and never could be.
+
+"I expect you're tired, dear, ain't you?" the woman beside her asked in a
+kindly voice.  The face Mona turned to her was pale, but it was with
+feeling, not tiredness.
+
+"Oh, no," she cried, hardly knowing what she felt, or how to put it into
+words.  "I was a little while ago--but I ain't now.  I--I don't think I
+could ever feel tired while I could see that!" She pointed towards the
+stretch of blue water, with the setting sun making a road of gold right
+across it and into the heaven that joined it.
+
+The woman smiled sadly.  "Are you so fond of it as all that!  I wish I
+was.  I can't abide it--it frightens me.  I never look at it if I can help
+it.  It makes me feel bad."
+
+"And it makes me feel good," thought Mona, but she was shy of saying so.
+"I think I should be ashamed to do anything mean when I was in sight of
+the sea," she added to herself.  And then the old horse drew up suddenly,
+and she saw that they had actually reached their journey's end.
+
+As she stepped down from the van and stood alone in the inn yard, where
+John Darbie always unloaded, and put up his horse and van, Mona for the
+first time felt shy and nervous.  She and her new mother were really
+strangers to each other.  They had met but once, and that for only a
+little while.
+
+"And p'raps we shan't get on a bit," thought Mona.  "P'raps she's very
+particular, and will be always scolding!" and she felt very miserable.
+And then, as she looked about her, and found that no one, as far as she
+could tell, had come to meet her, she began to feel very forlorn, and
+ill-used too.  All the sharp little unkind remarks about Lucy Carne, which
+had fallen from Granny Barnes' lips, came back to her mind.
+
+"I do think somebody might have come to meet me!" she said to herself, and
+being tired, and nervous, and a little bit homesick for granny, the tears
+rushed to her eyes.  Hastily diving in her pocket for her handkerchief,
+her fingers touched her purse, and she suddenly realised that she had not
+paid John Darbie his fare!  With a thrill and a blush at her own
+forgetfulness, she hurried back to where he was busy unloading his van.
+He had already taken down the pigs and some bundles of peasticks, and a
+chair which wanted a new cane seat, and was about to mount to the top to
+drag down the luggage which was up there, when he saw Mona waiting for
+him.
+
+"Please, here's my fare.  I'm sorry I forgot it, and how am I to get my
+box up to my house?"
+
+"Get your box up?  Why the same way as you'll get yourself up.  Hop inside
+again, and I'll drive 'ee both up in a minute.  I promised your mother I
+would.  You hold on to your money now, it'll be time enough to settle up
+when I've done my job," and the old man chuckled amiably at his little
+joke.
+
+But Mona did not want to get back into the close, stuffy van again, and
+sit there in solitary state, with everyone who passed by staring at her.
+So, as soon as John Darbie was safely on the top and busy amongst the
+boxes there, she walked quietly out of the yard and into the street.
+
+How familiar it all was, and how unchanged!  After Milbrook--the little
+ugly new town, scarcely worthy the name of town--and the hamlet where her
+granny lived, the street and houses looked small and old-fashioned, but
+they looked homelike and strong.  The Milbrook houses, with their walls
+half a brick thick, and their fronts all bow-windows, would not have
+lasted any time in little stormy, wind-swept Seacombe.  Experience had
+taught Seacombe folk that their walls must be nearly as solid as the
+cliffs on which many of them were built, and the windows must be small and
+set deep in the walls; otherwise they were as likely as not to be blown in
+altogether when the winter storms raged; that roofs must come well down to
+meet the little windows, like heavy brows protecting the eyes beneath,
+which under their shelter, could gaze out defiantly at sea and storm.
+
+To Mona, seeing them again after many months' absence, the houses looked
+rough and poor, and plain; yet she loved them, and, as she walked up the
+steep, narrow street, she glanced about her with eager, glowing eyes.
+For the time her loneliness and nervousness were forgotten.  Here and
+there someone recognised her, but at that hour there were never many
+people about.
+
+"Why, Mona Carne! is it really you!  Well, your mother and father'll be
+glad to have you home again." Mona beamed gratefully on the speaker.
+
+"Is it really Mona," cried another.  "Why, now, you've grown!  I didn't
+know you till Mrs. Row said your name!"
+
+Mona began to feel less forlorn and ill-used, and she was more glad than
+ever that she had on her best clothes, and had put her hair up in squibs
+the night before.
+
+Outside one of the few shops Seacombe possessed, she drew up and looked in
+at the windows with interest.  They had improved a little.  The draper's
+was particularly gay with new spring things, and to Mona who had not seen
+a shop lately, unless she walked the three miles to Milbrook, the sight
+was fascinating.  One window was full of ties, gloves, and ribbons; the
+other was as gay as a garden with flowers of every kind and colour, all
+blooming at once.  Many of them were crude and common, but to Mona's eyes
+they were beautiful.  There were wreaths of wall-flowers, of roses, and of
+lilacs, but the prettiest of all to Mona was one of roses and
+forget-me-nots woven in together.
+
+"Oh," she gasped, "how I'd love to have that one!  Oh, I'd love it!"
+There were hats in the window, too.  Pretty, light, wide-brimmed hats.
+Mona's eyes travelled backwards and forwards over them till she saw one of
+the palest green straw, the colour of a duck's egg.
+
+"Oh, wouldn't the roses and forget-me-nots look lovely on that, with just
+a bow of white ribbon at the back.  Oh, I wish----"
+
+"Why, it's Mona Carne!" cried a voice behind her, and Mona, wheeling
+swiftly round, found Millie Higgins at her elbow.
+
+"Why, who ever would have thought of meeting you strolling up the street
+just as though you had never been away!" cried Millie.  "But you've grown,
+Mona.  You are ever so much taller than when you went away, and your
+hair's longer too.  Do you think I am changed?"
+
+Mona was delighted.  She wanted to be tall, and she wanted to have nice
+long hair.  She had never cared for Millie Higgins before, but at that
+moment she felt that she liked her very much indeed, and they chattered
+eagerly to each other, lost to everything but the news they had to pour
+into each other's ears.
+
+After a little while, though, Millie tired of talking.  She wanted to get
+on, and what Millie wanted to do she generally did.  "I must fly--and
+there's your poor mother home worrying herself all this time to a
+fiddle-string, wondering what has become of you.  She expected the van an
+hour ago, and had got your tea all ready and waiting for you."
+
+Mona started guiltily, and then began to excuse herself.  "Well, we were
+late in coming, we were so long on the road.  Mr. Darbie said he'd drive
+me up, but I liked walking best.  If I had gone up by the van I shouldn't
+have been there yet, so it's all the same."
+
+"The van!  Why, it's gone by.  Only a minute ago, though.  If you run
+you'll be there almost as soon as he will."
+
+Without staying to say good-bye, Mona ran, but either Millie's minute had
+been a very long one, or 'Lion' had stepped out more briskly at the end of
+the day than at the beginning, for when Mona got to the house John Darbie
+was just coming away.  "Thank'ee, ma'am," he was saying, and Mona saw him
+putting some coins in his pocket.
+
+"I've got the----" she began to call out to him, but stopped, for her new
+mother came out to the gate, and looked anxiously down the hill.  She was
+looking for herself, Mona knew, and a fit of shyness came over her which
+drove every other thought from her mind.
+
+But almost as quickly as the shyness came it disappeared again, for Lucy's
+eyes fell on her, and, her face alight with pleasure, Lucy came forward
+with arms outstretched in welcome.  "Why, you poor little tired thing,
+you," she cried, kissing her warmly, "you must be famished!  Come in, do.
+I was quite frightened about you, for I've been expecting you this hour
+and more, and then when Mr. Darbie came, and brought only your box,
+it seemed as if I wasn't ever going to see you.  Come in, dear," drawing
+Mona's arm through her own, and leading her into the house.  "Sit down and
+rest a bit before you go up to see your room."
+
+Exhausted with excitement, and talking, and the extra exertion, Lucy
+herself had to sit down for a few minutes to get her breath.  Mona, more
+tired than she realised until she came to sit down, lay back in her
+father's big chair and looked about her with shy interest.  How familiar
+it all seemed, yet how changed.  Instead of the old torn, soiled drab
+paper, the walls were covered with a pretty blue one, against which the
+dresser and table and the old familiar china showed up spotless and
+dainty; the steel on the stove might have been silver, the floor was as
+clean and snowy as the table.
+
+Mona's memory of it all was very different.  In those days there had been
+muddle, dust, grease everywhere, the grate was always greasy and choked
+with ashes, the table sloppy and greasy, the floor unwashed, even unswept,
+the dressers with more dust than anything else on them.  Mona could
+scarcely believe that the same place and things could look so different.
+
+"Oh, how nice it all is," she said in a voice full of admiration, and Lucy
+smiled with pleasure.  She knew that many girls would not have admitted
+any improvement even if they had seen it.
+
+"Shall we go upstairs now?" she said.  "I've got my breath again," and she
+led the way up the steep little staircase, which Mona remembered so well.
+
+"You know the way to your old room, don't you?"
+
+Mona walked ahead to it, but at the door she drew up with a cry of
+delight.  "Oh, Mother!" she turned to say with a beaming face, and without
+noticing that she had called her by the name about which she and granny
+had debated so long.
+
+Lucy noticed it though, and coloured with pleasure.  She had felt more shy
+than had Mona, about suggesting what her stepchild should call her.
+"Thank you, dear, for calling me that," she said, putting her arm about
+her and kissing her.  "I didn't know, I wondered how you would feel about
+it."
+
+But Mona was too delighted with everything she saw to feel anything but
+pleasure and gratitude then.  The walls had been papered with a pretty
+rose-covered paper, the shabby little bed had been painted white.
+Pretty pink curtains hung at the window, and beside the bed stood a small
+bookcase with all Mona's own books in it.  Books that she had left lying
+about torn and shabby, and had thought would have been thrown away, or
+burnt, long ago.  Lucy had collected them, and mended and cleaned them.
+And Lucy, who had brought to her new house many of the ideas she had
+gathered while in service at the Squire's, had painted the furniture white
+too, to match the bed.
+
+Mona had never in her life before seen anything so pretty and dainty.
+"Isn't it lovely!" she cried, sitting down plump on the clean white quilt,
+and crushing it.  "I can't believe it's for me."  She looked about her
+with admiring eyes as she dragged off her hat and tossed it from her,
+accidentally knocking over the candlestick as she did so.
+
+Lucy stooped and picked up both.  The candlestick was chipped, the hat was
+certainly not improved.
+
+"The chipped place will not show much," said Lucy in her gentle, tired
+voice, "but you've crushed the flowers in your hat."
+
+Mona looked at the hat with indifferent eyes.  "Have I? Oh, well, it's my
+last year's one.  I shall want a new one for the summer."
+
+"Shall you, dear?"
+
+Mona did not notice the little anxious pucker of her mother's forehead.
+Carried away by all that had been done for her already, she had the
+feeling that money must be plentiful at Cliff Cottage.  Her father's boat
+had done well, she supposed.
+
+But before any more was said, a sound of footsteps reached them from
+below, and a loud voice, gruff but kindly, shouted through the little
+place "Lucy, where are you, my girl?  Has the little maid come?" and the
+next moment Mona was darting down the stairs and, taking the last in one
+flying leap, as in the old days, sprang into her father's arms.
+
+"My word!  What a big maid you are grown!" he cried, holding her a little
+way from him, and eyeing her proudly.  "Granny Barnes must have taken good
+care of you!  And now you've come to take care of Lucy and me.
+Eh!  Isn't that it?"
+
+"Yes, dad, that's it," cried Mona, excitedly, and sat back with all her
+weight on the pretty flowers and the fresh eggs that her grandmother had
+sent to Lucy by her.
+
+Her father looked vexed.  He knew how much his ailing wife enjoyed fresh
+eggs, and how seldom she allowed herself one, but he could not very well
+express his feelings just when Mona had come back to her home after her
+long absence, so he only laughed a little ruefully, and said, "Same as
+ever, Mona!  Same as ever!"
+
+But, to his surprise, tears welled up into Mona's eyes.  "I--I didn't mean
+to be," she said tremulously.  "I meant to try to be careful--but I--I've
+done nothing but break things ever since I came.  You--you'll be wishing
+you had never had me home."
+
+"We shan't do that, I know," said Lucy kindly.  "There's some days when
+one seems to break everything one touches--but they don't happen often.
+Now I'll make the tea.  I'm sure we all want some.  Come, Peter, and take
+your own chair.  There's no moving around the kitchen till we've put you
+in your corner.  Mona, will you sit in the window?"
+
+"I think I ought to stand," said Mona tragically.  "I've sat down once too
+often already."
+
+At which they all burst out laughing, and drew round the table in the
+happiest of spirits.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+From the moment she lay down in her little white bed, Mona had slept the
+whole night through.  She had risen early the day before--early at least,
+for her, for her grandmother always got up first, and lighted the fire and
+swept the kitchen before she called Mona, who got down, as a rule, in time
+to sit down to the breakfast her grandmother had got ready for her.
+
+On this first morning in her home she woke of her own accord, and
+half-waking, half-sleeping, and with not a thought of getting up, she
+turned over and was about to snuggle down into the cosy warmth again,
+when across her drowsy eyes flashed the light from her sunny window.
+
+"Why, how does the window get over there?" she asked herself, and then
+recollection came pouring over her, and sleepiness vanished, for life
+seemed suddenly very pleasant and interesting, and full of things to do,
+and see, and think about.
+
+Presently the clock in the church-tower struck seven.  "Only seven!
+Then I've got another hour before I need get up!  But I'll just have a
+look out to see what it all looks like.  How funny it seems to be back
+again!"  She slipped out of bed and across the floor to draw back the
+curtains.  Outside the narrow street stretched sunny and deserted.
+The garden, drenched with dew, was bathed in sunshine too.  But it was not
+on the garden or the street that her eyes lingered, but on the sea beyond
+the low stone wall on the opposite side of the way.  Deep blue it
+stretched, its bosom gently heaving, blue as the sky above, and the jewels
+with which its bosom was decked flashed and sparkled in the morning
+sunshine.
+
+"Oh-h-h!" gasped Mona.  "Oh-h-h!  I don't know how anyone can ever live
+away from the sea!"
+
+In spite of the sun, though, the morning was cold, with a touch of frost
+in the air which nipped Mona's toes, and sent her scuttling back to her
+bed again.  She remembered, joyfully, from the old days, that if she
+propped herself up a little she could see the sea from her bed.
+So she lay with her pillow doubled up under her head, and the bedclothes
+drawn up to her chin, and gazed and gazed at the sea and sky, until
+presently she was on the sea, in a boat, floating through waves covered
+with diamonds, and the diamonds came pattering against the sides of the
+boat, as though inviting her to put out her hands and gather them up,
+and so become rich for ever.  Strangely enough, though, she did not heed,
+or care for them.  All she wanted was a big bunch of the forget-me-nots
+which grew on the opposite shore, and she rowed and rowed, with might and
+main, to reach the forget-me-nots, and she put up a sail and flew before
+the wind, yet no nearer could she get to the patch of blue and green.
+
+"But I can smell them!" she cried.  "I can smell them!" and then
+remembered that forget-me-nots had no scent and realised that the scent
+was that of the wallflowers growing in her own garden; and suddenly all
+the spirit went out of her, for she did not care for what she could reach,
+but only for the unattainable; and the oars dropped out of her hands, and
+the diamonds no longer tapped against the boat, for the boat was still,
+and Mona sat in it disappointed and sullen.  The sun went in too,
+and nothing was the same but the scent of the flowers.  And then, through
+her sullen thoughts, the sound of her father's voice came to her.
+
+"Mona! Mona!  It's eight o'clock.  Ain't you getting up yet? I want you to
+see about the breakfast.  Your mother isn't well."
+
+Mona jumped up with a start, and felt rather cross in consequence.
+"All right, father," she called back.  "I'll come as soon as I can,"
+but to herself she added, in an injured tone, "I s'pose this is what I've
+been had home for!  Hard lines, I call it, to have to get up and light the
+fire the very first morning."
+
+Her father called through the door again.  "The fire's lighted, and
+burning nicely, and I've put the kettle on.  I lighted it before I went
+out.  I didn't call 'ee then, because I thought I heard you moving."
+
+Then her father had been up and dressed for an hour or two, and at work
+already!  A faint sense of shame crossed Mona's mind.  "All right,
+father," she called back more amiably, "I'll dress as quick as I can.
+I won't be more than a few minutes."
+
+"That's a good maid," with a note of relief in his voice, and then she
+heard him go softly down the stairs.
+
+It always takes one a little longer than usual to dress in a strange
+place, but it took Mona longer than it need have done, for instead of
+unpacking her box the night before, and hanging up her frocks, and putting
+her belongings neatly away in their places, she had just tumbled
+everything over anyhow, to get at her nightdress, and so had left them.
+It had taken her quite as long to find the nightdress as it would have to
+lift the things out and put them in their proper places, for the garment
+was almost at the bottom of the box, but Mona did not think of that.
+Now, though, when she wanted to find her morning frock and apron, she grew
+impatient and irritable.  "Perhaps if I tip everything out on the floor
+I'll find the old things that way!" she snapped crossly.  "I s'pose I
+shan't find them until they've given me all the trouble they can,"
+and she had actually thrown a few things in every direction, when she
+suddenly stopped and sat back on her heels.
+
+"I've half a mind to put on my best dress again, then I can come and look
+for the old one when I ain't in such a hurry."  The dress--her best one--
+was lying temptingly on a chair close beside her.  She hesitated,
+looked at it again, and picked it up.  As she did so, something fell out
+of the pocket.  It was her purse, the little blue one her granny had
+bought for her at Christmas.  She picked it up and opened it, and as she
+did so the colour rushed over her face.  In one of the pockets was the
+eighteenpence which had been given to her to pay John Darbie with.
+"I--I suppose I ought to have given it to mother, but it went right out of
+my head."  She completed her dressing in a thoughtful mood, but she did
+find, and put on, her old morning dress.  "I suppose I had better tell
+her--about the money."  She put the blue purse in a drawer, however,
+and tossed in a lot of things on top of it.
+
+When at last she got downstairs it was already past half-past eight,
+and the fire was burning low again.  "Oh, dear," she cried, irritably,
+"how ever am I going to get breakfast with a fire like that and how am I
+to know what to get or where anything is kept. I think I might have had a
+day or two given me to settle down in.  I s'pose I'd better get some
+sticks first and make the fire up.  Bother the old thing, it only went out
+just to vex me!"
+
+She was feeling hungry and impatient, and out of tune with everything.
+At Hillside she would have been just sitting down to a comfortable meal
+which had cost her no trouble to get.  For the moment she wished she was
+back there again.
+
+As she returned to the kitchen with her hands full of wood, her mother
+came down the stairs.  She looked very white and ill, and very fragile,
+but she was fully dressed.
+
+"I thought you were too bad to get up," said Mona, unsmilingly.
+"I was going to bring you up some breakfast as soon as I could,
+but the silly old fire was gone down----"
+
+"I was afraid it would.  That was why I got up.  I couldn't be still,
+I was so fidgeted about your father's breakfast.  He'll be home for it in
+a few minutes.  He's had a busy morning, and must want something."
+
+Mona looked glummer than ever.  "I never had to get up early at granny's,"
+she said in a reproachful voice.  "I ain't accustomed to it.  I s'pose I
+shall have to get so."
+
+"Did you let your grandmother--did your grandmother come down first and
+get things ready for you?" asked Lucy, surprised; and something in her
+voice, or words, made Mona feel ashamed, instead of proud of the fact.
+
+"Granny liked getting up early," she said, excusingly.  Lucy did not make
+any comment, and Mona felt more ashamed than if she had.
+
+"Hasn't father had his breakfast yet?" she asked presently.  "He always
+used to come home for it at eight."
+
+"He did to-day, but you see there wasn't any.  The fire wasn't lighted
+even.  He thought you were dressing, and he wouldn't let me get up.
+When he'd lighted the fire he went off to work again.  He's painting his
+boat, and he said he'd finish giving her her first coat before he'd stop
+again; then she could be drying.  I'll manage better another morning.
+I daresay I'll feel better to-morrow."
+
+Lucy did look very unwell, and Mona's heart was touched.  "I wish father
+had told me earlier," she said in a less grumbling tone.  "I was awake at
+seven, and got up and looked out of the window.  I never thought of
+dressing then, it seemed so early, and I didn't hear father moving."
+
+"Never mind, dear, we will manage better another time.  It's nice having
+you home, Mona; the house seems so much more cheerful.  You will be a
+great comfort to us, I know."
+
+Mona's ill-temper vanished.  "I do want to be," she said shyly, "and I am
+glad to be home.  Oh, mother, it was lovely to see the sea again.
+I felt--oh, I can't tell you how I felt when I first caught a glimpse of
+it.  I don't know how ever I stayed away so long."
+
+Lucy laughed ruefully.  "I wish I loved it like that," she said, "but I
+can't make myself like it even.  It always makes me feel miserable."
+
+A heavy step was heard on the cobbled path outside, and for a moment a big
+body cut off the flood of sunshine pouring in at the doorway.
+"Is breakfast ready?" demanded Peter Carne's loud, good-tempered voice.
+"Hullo, Lucy!  Then you got up, after all!  Well--of all the obstinate
+women!"
+
+Lucy smiled up at him bravely.  "Yes, I've got down to breakfast.
+I thought I'd rather have it down here with company than upstairs alone.
+Isn't it nice having Mona home, father?"
+
+Peter laughed.  "I ain't going to begin by spoiling the little maid with
+flattery, but yet, 'tis very," and he beamed good-naturedly on both.
+"Now, then, let's begin.  I'm as hungry as a hunter."
+
+By that time the cloth was laid, a dish of fried bacon and bread was
+keeping hot in the oven, and smelling most appetisingly to hungry folk,
+and the kettle was about to boil over.  Through the open doorway the
+sunshine and the scent of wallflowers poured in.
+
+"Them there wallflowers beat anything I ever came across for smell,"
+remarked Peter as he finished his second cup of tea.
+
+"I dreamed about wallflowers," said Mona, "and I seemed to smell them
+quite strong," and she told them her dream--at least a part of it.
+She left out about the forget-me-nots that she rowed and rowed to try and
+get.  She could not have told why she left out that part, but already a
+vague thought had come to her--one that she was ashamed of, even though it
+was so vague, and it had to do with forget-me-nots.
+
+All the time she had been helping about the breakfast, and all the time
+after, when she and her stepmother were alone again, she kept saying to
+herself, "Shall I give her the money, shall I keep it?" and her heart
+would thrill, and then sink, and inside her she kept saying, "There is no
+harm in it?--It is all the same in the end."  And then, almost before
+she knew what she was doing, she had taken the easy, crooked, downhill
+path, with its rocks and thorns so cleverly hidden.
+
+"Mona, haven't you got any print frocks for mornings, and nice aprons?"
+
+Mona's thoughts came back suddenly from "Shall I?  Shall I not?" and the
+eyes with which she looked at her mother were half shamed, half
+frightened.  "Any--any what?" she stuttered.
+
+"Nice morning aprons and washing frocks?  I don't like to see shabby,
+soiled ones, even for only doing work in."
+
+"I hadn't thought about it," said Mona, with more interest.  "What else
+can one wear?  I nearly put on my best one, but I thought I hadn't
+better."
+
+"Oh, no, not your best."
+
+"Well, what else is there to wear?  Do you always have a print one like
+you've got on now?"
+
+"Yes, and big aprons, and sleeves.  Then one can tell when they are
+dirty."
+
+"Oh, I thought you put on that 'cause you were wearing out what you'd got
+left over.  You were in service, weren't you, before you married father?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I haven't got any print dresses.  I haven't even got a white one.
+I've two aprons like this," holding out a fanciful thing trimmed with
+lace.  "That's all, and I never saw any sleeves; I don't know what they
+are like."
+
+"I'll have to get you some as soon as father has his next big haul.
+You'd like to wear nice clean prints, if you'd got them, wouldn't you?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" eagerly.  But after a moment she added: "I do want a summer
+hat, though, and I don't s'pose I could have both?"  Her eyes sought her
+mother's face anxiously.  Lucy looked grave and a little troubled.
+"Wasn't that your summer hat that you had on yesterday?  It was a very
+pretty one.  I'm so fond of wreaths of daisies and grasses, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes--I was--I'm tired of them now.  I wore that hat a lot last summer."
+
+"Did you?  Well, you kept it very nicely.  I thought it was a new one, it
+looked so fresh and pretty."
+
+"I'd like to have one trimmed with forget-me-nots this year," Mona went on
+hurriedly, paying no heed to her mother's last remarks.
+
+"They are very pretty," agreed Lucy, absently.  In her mind she was
+wondering how she could find the money for all these different things.
+
+"I've got eighteenpence," broke in Mona, and the plunge was taken.
+She was keeping the eighteen-pence, though she knew it belonged either to
+her granny or to Lucy.  As soon as the words were spoken she almost wished
+them back again, but it was too late, and she went on her downhill way.
+
+"Mother, if you'll get me the hat, I'll buy the wreath myself.  They've
+got some lovely ones down at Tamlin's for one and five three.  There are
+some at one and 'leven three, but that's sixpence more, and I haven't got
+enough."
+
+"Very well, dear, we'll think about it.  It's early yet for summer hats."
+She was trying to think of things she could do without, that Mona might
+have her hat.  If she had been her own child, she would have told her
+plainly that she did not need, and could not have a new one, but it was
+not easy--as things were--to do that.
+
+Mona's heart leaped with joy.  Though she had known Lucy such a little
+while, she somehow felt that she could trust her not to forget.
+That when she said she would think about a thing, she would think about
+it, and already she saw with her mind's eye, the longed-for hat, the blue
+wreath, and the bow of ribbon, and her face beamed with happiness.
+
+"I can do without the aprons and the print frocks," she said, in the
+generosity of her heart, though it gave her a wrench.  But Lucy would not
+hear of that.  She had her own opinion about the grubby-looking blue
+serge, and the fancy apron, which were considered 'good enough' for
+mornings.
+
+"No, dear, you need them more than you need the hat.  If ever anyone
+should be clean it's when one is making beds, and cooking, and doing all
+that sort of thing, I think, don't you?"
+
+Mona had never given the subject a thought before.  In fact, she had done
+so little work while with her grandmother, and when she 'kept house'
+herself had cared so little about appearance or cleanliness, or anything,
+that it had never occurred to her that such things mattered.  But now that
+her stepmother appealed to her in this way she felt suddenly a sense of
+importance and a glow of interest.
+
+"Oh, yes! and I'll put my hair up, and always have on a nice white apron
+and a collar; they do look so pretty over pink frocks, don't they?"
+
+"Yes, and I must teach you how to wash and get them up."
+
+"Oh!"  Mona's interest grew suddenly lukewarm.  "I hate washing and
+ironing, don't you, mother?"
+
+"I like other kinds of work better, perhaps.  I think I should like the
+washing if I didn't get so tired with it.  I don't seem to have the
+strength to do it as I want it done.  It is lovely, though, to see things
+growing clean under one's hand, isn't it?"
+
+But Mona had never learnt to take pride in her work.  "I don't know,"
+she answered indifferently.  "I should never have things that were
+always wanting washing."
+
+Lucy rose to go about her morning's work.  "Oh, come now," she said,
+smiling, "I can't believe that.  Don't you think your little room looks
+prettier with the white vallance and quilt and the frill across the window
+than it would without?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" Mona agreed enthusiastically.  "But then I didn't have to wash
+them and iron them."
+
+"Well, I had to, and I enjoyed it, because I was thinking how nice they
+would make your room look, and how pleased you would be."
+
+"I don't see that.  If you were doing them for yourself, of course, you'd
+be pleased, but I can't see why anyone should be pleased about what other
+people may like."
+
+"Oh, Mona! can't you?"  Lucy looked amazed.  "Haven't you ever heard the
+saying, 'there is more pleasure in giving than in receiving'?"
+
+"Yes, I think I've heard it," said Mona, flippantly, "but I never saw any
+sense in it.  There's lots of things said that ain't a bit true."
+
+"This is true enough," said Lucy quietly, "and I hope you'll find it so
+for yourself, or you will miss half the pleasure in life."
+
+"Well, I don't believe in any of those old sayings," retorted Mona,
+rising too.  "Anyway, receiving's good enough for me!" and she laughed
+boisterously, thinking she had said something new and funny.
+
+A little cloud rested for a moment on Lucy's face, but only for a moment.
+"It isn't nice to hear you speak like that, Mona," she said quietly,
+a note of pain in her voice, "but I can't make myself believe yet that you
+are as selfish as you make out.  I believe," looking across at her
+stepdaughter with kindly, smiling eyes, "that you've got as warm a heart
+as anybody, really."
+
+And at the words and the look all the flippant, silly don't-careishness
+died out of Mona's thoughts and manner.
+
+Yet, presently, when in her own little room again, she opened her little
+blue purse and looked in it, a painful doubt arose in her mind.  It was
+nice to be considered good-hearted, but was she really so?
+And unselfish?  "If I was, wouldn't I make my last year's hat do?
+Wouldn't I give back the eighteenpence?"  What tiresome questions they
+were to come poking and pushing forward so persistently.  Anyhow, her
+mother knew now that she wanted a hat, and she knew that she had the
+money, and that she was going to spend it on herself--and yet she had
+called her unselfish!
+
+And downstairs, Lucy, with an anxious face, and a weight at her heart, was
+thinking to herself, "If Mona had lived much longer the idle, selfish life
+she has been living, her character would have been ruined, and there is so
+much that is good in her!  Poor child, poor Mona!  She has never had a
+fair chance yet to learn to show the best side of her, and I doubt if I'm
+the one to teach her.  I couldn't be hard with her if I tried, and being
+her stepmother will make things more difficult for me than for most.
+I couldn't live in the house with strife.  I must try other means, and,"
+she added softly, "ask God to help me."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+For a while, after that talk with her mother, Mona worked with a will.
+She swept, and scrubbed, and polished the stove and the windows and helped
+with the washing and ironing, until Lucy laughingly declared there would
+soon be nothing left for her to do.
+
+"That's just what I want," declared Mona.  "I want you not to have
+anything to do.  Perhaps I can't manage the cooking yet, but I'll learn to
+in time."  Excited by the novelty and change, and buoyed up by the
+prospect of her new hat, and new frocks and aprons too, she felt she could
+do anything, and could not do enough in return for all that was to be done
+for her, and, when Mona made up her mind to work, there were few who could
+outdo her.  She would go on until she was ready to drop.
+
+As the spring days grew warmer, she would get so exhausted that Lucy
+sometimes had to interfere peremptorily, and make her stop.  "Now you sit
+right down there, out of the draught, and don't you move a foot till I
+give you leave.  I will get you a nice cup of tea, and one of my new
+tarts; they're just this minute ready to come out of the oven."
+
+A straight screen, reaching from floor to ceiling, stood at one side of
+the door, to keep off some of the draught and to give some little privacy
+to those who used the kitchen.  Mona dried her hands and slipped
+gratefully into the chair that stood between the screen and the end of the
+table.
+
+"Oh, mother, this is nice," she sighed, her face radiant, though her
+shoulders drooped a little with tiredness.
+
+"Isn't it beautiful?  I love these sunny, quiet afternoons, when
+everything is peaceful, and the sea quite calm."  Her eyes looked beyond
+the little kitchen to the steep, sunny street outside, and beyond that
+again to where the blue sea heaved and glittered in the distance.
+The little window, as well as the door, stood wide open, letting in the
+scent of the sun-warmed wallflowers, and box, and boy's love.
+The bees buzzed contentedly over the beds.  One made his way in to Lucy's
+plants in the window.
+
+"I seem to smell the sea even through the scent of the flowers,"
+said Lucy.
+
+"I am sure I do.  I can't think how people can choose to live inland, can
+you, mother?"
+
+"I don't suppose they choose, they just live where God has seen fit to
+place them--where their work lies."
+
+"Well, I hope my work will always be in some place near the sea," said
+Mona decidedly.  "I don't think I could live away from it."
+
+Lucy smiled.  "I think you could, dear, if you made up your mind to it!
+I am sure you are not a coward."
+
+"I don't see that it has got anything to do with being a coward or not,"
+objected Mona.
+
+"But indeed it has.  If people can't face things they don't like without
+grumbling all the time they are cowards.  It is as cruel and cowardly to
+keep on grumbling and complaining about what you don't like as it is brave
+to face it and act so that people never guess what your real feelings are.
+Think of my mother now.  She loved living in a town, with all that there
+is to see and hear and interest one, and, above all, she loved London.
+It was home to her, and every other place was exile.  Yet when, after they
+had been married a couple of years, her husband made up his mind to live
+right away in the country, she never grumbled, though she must have felt
+lonely and miserable many a time.  Her mother, and all belonging to her,
+lived in London, and I know she had a perfect dread of the country.
+She was afraid of the loneliness.  Then my father tried his hand at
+farming and lost all his savings, and after that there was never a penny
+for anything but the barest of food and clothing, and sometimes not enough
+even for that.  Well, I am quite sure that no one ever heard a word of
+complaint from mother's lips, and when poor father reproached himself,
+as he did very often, with having brought ruin on her, she'd say,
+'Tom, I married you for better or worse, for richer or poorer.  I didn't
+marry you on condition you stayed always in one place and earned so much a
+week.'"
+
+"Mother didn't think she was being brave by always keeping a cheerful face
+and a happy heart--but father did, and I do, now.  I understand things
+better than I did.  I can see there's ever so much more bravery in denying
+yourself day after day what you want, and bearing willingly what you don't
+like, than there is in doing some big deed that you carry through on the
+spur of the moment."
+
+Mona sat silent, gazing out across the flowers in the window to the sky
+beyond.  "There's ever so much more bravery in denying yourself what you
+want."  The words rang in her head most annoyingly.  Could Lucy have
+spoken them on purpose?  No, Mona honestly did not think that, but she
+wished she had not uttered them.  She tried to think of something else,
+and, unconsciously, her mother helped her.
+
+"I want to go to see mother on Monday or Tuesday, if I can.  Do you think
+you'll mind being left here alone for a few hours?"
+
+Mona looked round at her with a smile.  "Why, of course not!  I used to
+spend hours here alone.  I'll find plenty to do while you're gone.
+I'll write to granny, for one thing.  I promised I would.  I could take up
+some of the weeds in the garden, too."
+
+She was eager to do something for her stepmother, so that she herself
+would feel more easy in her mind about the one thing she could not summon
+up courage to do.
+
+"Yes, if you'll do a little weeding it'll be fine.  I'm ashamed to see our
+path, and the wallflowers are nearly choked, but I daren't do it.
+I can't stoop so long."
+
+On Sunday Mona went to Sunday school for the first time, and was not a
+little pleased to find that her last year's hat, with the daisy wreath,
+was prettier than any other hat there.  With every admiring glance she
+caught directed at it her spirits rose.  She loved to feel that she was
+admired and envied.  It never entered her head that she made some of the
+children feel mortified and discontented with their own things.
+
+"If they think such a lot of this one, I wonder what they'll think of me
+having another new one soon!"  To conceal the elation in her face,
+she bent over her books, pretending to be absorbed in the lesson.
+Miss Lester, the teacher, looked at her now and again with grave,
+questioning eyes.  She was wondering anxiously if this little stranger was
+going to bring to an end the peace and contentment of the class.
+"Is she going to make my poor children realise how poor and shabby their
+clothes are, and fill their heads with thoughts of dress?"  She said
+nothing aloud, however.  She was only a little kinder, perhaps, to the
+most shabby of them all.
+
+Mona, who had been quite conscious of her teacher's glances, never doubted
+but that they were glances of admiration, and was, in consequence,
+extremely pleased.  She returned home quite elated by her Sunday
+afternoon's experiences.
+
+The next day, at about eleven, Lucy started on her three mile walk to her
+mother's.
+
+"Isn't it too far for you?" asked Mona, struck anew by her stepmother's
+fragile appearance.  "Hadn't you better put it off till you're stronger?"
+
+But Lucy shook her head.  "Oh, no, I shall manage it.  If I go to-day I
+shall be able to have a lift home in Mr. Lobb's cart.  It's his day.
+So I shall only have three miles to walk, and I do want to see mother.
+She has been so bad again."
+
+Mona did not try any more to stop her, but bustled around helping her to
+get ready.  "If you hadn't been going to drive back, I'd have come to meet
+you.  Never mind, I expect I'll be very busy," and she smiled to herself
+at the thought of all she was going to do, and of the nice clean kitchen
+and tempting meal she would have ready by the time Mr. Lobb's cart
+deposited Lucy at the door again.
+
+"Now, don't do too much, and tire yourself out, dear," said Lucy,
+warningly.  "There isn't really much that needs doing," but Mona smiled
+knowingly.
+
+As soon as Lucy had really started and was out of sight, she washed and
+put away the few cups and plates, and swept up the hearth.  Then, getting
+a little garden fork and an old mat, she sallied forth to the garden.
+There certainly were a good many weeds in the path, and, as the ground was
+trodden hard, they were not easy to remove.  Those in the flower beds were
+much easier.
+
+"I'll do the beds first," thought Mona.  "After all, that's the right way
+to begin."  So she dug away busily for some time, taking great care to dig
+deep, and lift the roots right out.  "While I am about it, I may as well
+turn all the earth over to make it nice and soft for the flowers.
+I don't know how they ever manage to grow in such hard, caked old stuff,
+poor little things."
+
+Here and there a 'poor little thing' came up root and all, as well as the
+weed, or instead of it, but Mona quickly put it back again, and here and
+there one had its roots torn away and loosened.  In fact, most of Lucy's
+plants found themselves wrenched from the cool, moist earth they loved,
+and their hold on life gone.  Presently Mona came to a large patch of
+forget-me-nots.  The flowers were not yet out, but there was plenty of
+promise for by and by.  It was not, though, the promise of buds, nor the
+plant itself which caused Mona to cease her work suddenly, and sit back on
+her heels, lost in thought.
+
+"I've a good mind to go down now this minute and get it," she exclaimed
+eagerly, "while mother's away.  Buying a hat won't seem much if she hasn't
+got to buy the trimmings.  And--and if--if I don't get the wreath,
+Mr. Tamlin may--may sell it before mother goes there."
+
+This fear made her spring from her knees.  Without any further hesitation,
+she rushed, into the house, washed and tidied herself, got her blue purse
+from the drawer in which it was still hidden, and in ten minutes from the
+moment the thought first struck her she was hurrying down the street,
+leaving the mat and the fork where she had been using them.  But she could
+think of nothing.  Indeed, she could scarcely breathe for excitement until
+she reached Tamlin's shop, and, to her enormous relief, saw the blue
+wreaths still hanging there.
+
+"Of course, it is much the best way to buy it now and take it home,"
+Mona argued with herself.  "It will only get dirty and faded where it is."
+
+She felt a little nervous at entering the big shop by herself, especially
+as she seemed to be the only customer, and the attendants had no one else
+at whom to stare.  She went up to the one who had the pleasantest smile
+and looked the least grand of them all.
+
+"Forget-me-nots?  Oh, yes, dear, we have some lovely flowers this season,
+all new in.  Perhaps you'd prefer roses.  We have some beautiful roses,
+pink, red, yellow, and white ones--and wreaths, we have some sweet
+wreaths, moss and rose buds, and sweet peas and grasses."  She proceeded
+to drag out great boxes full of roses of all shapes and kinds.
+Mona looked at them without interest.  "No, thank you I want
+forget-me-nots."
+
+"Oh, well, there's no harm in looking at the others, is there?  I've got
+some sweet marg'rites too.  I'll show you.  P'raps you'll change your mind
+when you see them.  Blue ties you so, doesn't it?"
+
+"I've got daisies on a hat already.  I'm tired of them.  I want something
+different."
+
+"Of course, we all like a change, don't we?  I'll show you a wreath--
+perfectly sweet it is, apple-blossom and leaves; it might be real, it's so
+perfect."  And away she went again for another box.
+
+Mona felt as though her eighteenpence was shrivelling smaller and smaller.
+It seemed such a ridiculously small sum to have come shopping with, and
+she wished she had never done so.  The girl dropped a huge box on the
+counter, and whipped the cover off.  She was panting a little from the
+weight of it.  Mona longed to sink out of sight, she was so ashamed of the
+trouble she was giving, and only eighteenpence to spend after all!
+
+"There, isn't that sweet, and only three and eleven three."
+
+But Mona was by this time feeling so ashamed and bothered and
+uncomfortable, she would not bring herself to look at the flowers.
+"Yes, thank you, it's very pretty, but--but--it's too dear--and--I want
+forget-me-nots."
+
+Then, summoning up all the courage she had left,  "You've got some wreaths
+for one and fivepence three-farthings; it's one of those I want."
+
+The girl's face changed, and her manner too.  "Oh, it's one of the cheap
+wreaths you want, like we've got in the window," and from another box she
+dragged out one of the kind Mona had gazed at so longingly, and, without
+handing it to her to look at, popped it into a bag, screwed up the top,
+and pushed it across the counter.  "One and five three," she snapped
+rudely, and, while Mona was extracting her eighteenpence from her purse,
+she turned to another attendant who had been standing looking on and
+listening all the time.
+
+"Miss Jones, dear, will you help me put all these boxes away."
+
+Mona noticed the sneer in her voice, the glances the two exchanged.
+She saw, too, Miss Jones's pitying smile and toss of her head, and she
+walked out of the shop with burning cheeks and a bursting heart.
+She longed passionately to throw down the wreath she carried and trample
+on it--and as for Tamlin's shop!  She felt that nothing would ever induce
+her to set foot inside it again.
+
+Poor Mona, as she hurried up the street with her longed-for treasure--now
+detestable in her eyes--all the sunshine and happiness seemed to have gone
+out of her days.  She went along quickly, with her head down.  She felt
+she did not want to see or speak to anyone just then.  She hurried through
+the garden, where the patch of newly-turned earth was already drying under
+the kiss of the sun, and the wallflowers were beginning to droop, but she
+saw nothing of it all.  She only wanted to get inside and shut and bolt
+the door, and be alone with herself and her anger.
+
+"There!" she cried passionately, flinging the wreath across the kitchen,
+"take that! I hate you--I hate the sight of you!"  She would have cried,
+but that she had made up her mind that she would not.  "I'll never wear
+the hateful thing--I couldn't!  If I was to meet that girl when I'd got it
+on I--I'd never get over it!  And there's all my money gone; wasted, and--
+and----"  At last the tears did come, in spite of her, and Mona's heart
+felt relieved.
+
+She picked out the paper bag from inside the fender, and, carrying it
+upstairs, thrust it inside the lid of her box.  "There! and I hope I'll
+never see the old thing ever any more, and then, p'raps, in time I'll
+forget all about it."
+
+As she went down the stairs again to the kitchen she remembered that her
+father would be home in a few minutes to his dinner, and that she had to
+boil some potatoes.  "Oh, dear--I wish--I wish----"  But what was the use
+of wishing!  She had the forget-me-nots she had so longed for--and what
+was the result!
+
+"I'll never, never wish for anything again," she thought ruefully,
+"but I suppose that wishing you'd got something, and wishing you
+hadn't forgot something, are two different things, though both make you
+feel miserable," she added gloomily.
+
+For a moment she sat, overwhelmed by all that she had done and had left
+undone.  The emptiness and silence of the house brought to her a sense of
+loneliness.  The street outside was empty and silent too, except for two
+old women who walked by with heavy, dragging steps.  One of the two was
+talking in a patient, pathetic voice, but loudly, for her companion was
+deaf.
+
+"There's no cure for trouble like work, I know that.  I've had more'n my
+share of trouble, and if it hadn't been that I'd got the children to care
+for, and my work cut out to get 'em bread to eat, I'd have give in;
+I couldn't have borne all I've had to bear----"
+
+The words reached Mona distinctly through the silence.  She rose to her
+feet.  "P'raps work'll help me to bear mine," she thought bitterly.
+"When my man and my two boys was drowned that winter, I'd have gone out of
+my mind if I hadn't had to work to keep a home for the others----"
+The voices died away in the distance, and Mona's bitterness died away too.
+
+"Her man, and her two boys--three of them dead, all drowned in one day--
+oh, how awful!  How awful!"  Mona's face blanched at the thought of the
+tragedy.  The very calmness with which it was told made it seem worse,
+more real, more inevitable.  Even the sunshine and peace about her made it
+seem more awful.  Compared with such a trouble, her own was too paltry.
+It was not a trouble at all.  She felt ashamed of herself for the fuss she
+had been making, and without more ado she bustled round to such good
+purpose that when her father returned to his meal she had it all cooked
+and ready to put on the table.
+
+"That's a good maid," he said, encouragingly.  "Why, you've grown a
+reg'lar handy little woman.  You'll be a grand help to your poor mother."
+
+"I do want to be," said Mona, but she did not feel as confident about it
+as her father did.  "I'm going to have everything ready for her by the
+time she gets home."
+
+"That's right, I shan't be home till morning, most likely, so you'll have
+to take care of her.  She'll be fairly tired out, what with walking three
+miles in the sun, and then being rattled about in Mr. Lobb's old cart.
+The roads ain't fit for a horse to travel over."
+
+"I should think she'd be here about six, shouldn't she, father?"
+
+"Yes, that's about the old man's time, but there's no reckoning on him for
+certain.  He may have to go a mile or more out of his way, just for one
+customer."
+
+Apparently that was what he had to do that day, for six came and went, and
+seven o'clock had struck, and darkness had fallen before the cart drew up
+at Cliff Cottage, and Lucy clambered stiffly down from her hard,
+uncomfortable seat.
+
+She was tired out and chilly, but at the sound of the wheels the cottage
+door was flung open, letting out a wide stream of cheerfulness, which made
+her heart glow and drove her weariness away.  Inside, the home all was
+neat and cosy, the fire burned brightly, and the table was laid ready
+for a meal.  Lucy drew a deep breath of happiness and relief.
+
+"Oh, it is nice to get home again," she sighed contentedly, "and most of
+all to find someone waiting for you, Mona dear."
+
+And Mona's heart danced with pleasure and happy pride.  She felt well
+repaid for all she had done.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+When Mona woke the next morning she felt vaguely that something was
+missing.  "Why it's the smell of the wallflowers!" she cried, after lying
+for some minutes wondering what it could be.  But in her new desire to get
+dressed and downstairs early she did not give the matter another thought.
+
+Lucy, coming down later, stepped to the door for a moment to breathe in
+the sunshine and sweet morning air.  "Oh," she cried, and her voice rang
+out sharply, full of dismay, "Oh, Mona, come quick.  Whatever has happened
+to our wallflowers!  Why, look at them!  They are all dead!  Oh, the poor
+things!  Someone must have pulled them up in sheer wickedness!  Isn't it
+cruel?  Isn't it shameful!"
+
+Mona, rushing to the door to look, found Lucy on her knees by the dying
+plants, the tears dropping from her eyes.  Only yesterday they were so
+happy and so beautiful, a rich carpet of brown, gold, tawny, and crimson,
+all glowing in the sunshine, and filling the air with their glorious
+scent--and now!  Oh, it was pitiful, pitiful.
+
+"I'll fill a tub with water and plunge them all in," cried Lucy,
+frantically collecting her poor favourites--then suddenly she dropped
+them.  "No, no, I won't, I'll bury them out of sight.  I could never give
+them new life.  Oh, who could have been so wicked?"
+
+Mona was standing beside her, white-faced and silent.  At her mother's
+last question, she opened her lips for the first time.  "I--I did it,"
+she gasped in a horrified voice.  "I--didn't know, I must have done it
+when I was weeding.  Oh, mother, I am so sorry.  What can I do--oh,
+what can I do!"
+
+"You!  Oh, Mona!"  But at the sight of Mona's distress Lucy forgot her
+own.
+
+"Never mind.  It can't be helped.  'Twas an accident, of course, and no
+one can prevent accidents.  Don't fret about it, dear.  Of course,
+you wouldn't have hurt them if you'd known what you were doing!"
+
+But her words failed to comfort Mona, for in her inmost heart she knew
+that she should have known better, that she could have helped it.
+It was just carelessness again.
+
+"They wouldn't have lasted more than a week or two longer, I expect,"
+added Lucy, consolingly, trying to comfort herself as well as Mona.
+"Now, we'll get this bed ready for the ten-weeks stocks.  It will do the
+ground good to rest a bit.  I daresay the stocks will be all the finer for
+it later on."  But still Mona was not consoled.
+
+"If I hadn't run away and left them to go and buy that hateful wreath,"
+she was thinking.  "If only I had remembered to press the earth tight
+round them again--if--if only I'd been more careful when I was weeding,
+and--if, if, if!  It's all ifs with me!"  Aloud, she said bitterly,
+"I only seem to do harm to everything I touch.  I'd better give up!
+If I don't do anything, p'raps I shan't do mischief."
+
+Lucy laughed.  "Poor old Paddy," she cried.  "Why, you couldn't live and
+not do anything.  Every minute of your life you are doing something, and
+when you are doing what you call 'nothing' you will be doing mischief,
+if it's only in setting a bad example.  And you can work splendidly if you
+like, Mona, and you _do_ like, I know.  I shan't forget for a long while
+how nice you'd got everything by the time I came home last night, and how
+early you got up this morning."
+
+Mona's face brightened.
+
+"You've got to learn to think, that's all, dear; and to remember to finish
+off one thing before you leave it to go to another.  It's just the want of
+that that lies at the root of most of your trouble."
+
+A sound of many feet hurrying along the street and of shouting voices made
+Lucy break off suddenly, and sent them both running to the gate.
+
+"Boats are in sight, missis.  Fine catch!" called one and another as they
+hurried along.
+
+Lucy and Mona looked at each other with glad relief in their eyes.
+There had been no real cause for anxiety because the little fishing fleet
+had not been home at dawn, yet now they knew that they had been a little
+bit anxious, Lucy especially, and their pleasure was all the greater.
+For a moment Mona, in her excitement, was for following the rest to the
+quay where the fish would be landed.  It was so exciting, such fun, to be
+in all the bustle of the unloading, and the selling--and to know that for
+a time, at any rate, money would not be scarce, and rent and food and
+firing would be secure.
+
+Mona loved nothing better than such mornings as this--but her first step
+was her last.  "I won't remember 'too late' this time," she said to
+herself determinedly, and turning, she made her way quickly into the
+house.  There would be more than enough to do to get ready.  There would
+be hot water, dry clothes, and a hot breakfast to get for the tired, cold,
+famished father.
+
+"Now you sit down, mother, and stoke the fire, I'll see to the rest," and
+for the next hour she flew around, doing one thing after another, and as
+deftly as a woman.  She was so busy and so happy she forgot all about the
+beach and the busy scene there, the excitement, and the fun.
+
+But before Lucy did any 'stoking' she went out with a rake and smoothed
+over the rough earth of the empty wallflower bed.  "If it's looking tidy,
+perhaps he won't notice anything's wrong when he first comes home,"
+she thought.  "When he's less tired he'll be able to bear the
+disappointment better."  She knew that if he missed his flowers one of his
+chief pleasures in his homecoming would be gone, and she almost dreaded to
+hear the sound of his footsteps because of the disappointment in store for
+him.  Because she could not bear to see it, she stayed in the kitchen,
+and only Mona went out to meet him.  Lucy heard his loved voice, hoarse
+and tired, but cheerful still.  "Hullo, my girl!" he cried, "how's mother,
+and how 'ave 'ee got on?  I was 'fraid she'd be troubling.  Hullo!  Why,
+what's happened to our wallflowers?"
+
+At the sound of the dismay in his voice, Lucy had to go out.  "Poor Mona,"
+she thought, "it's hard on her!  Why, father!" she cried brightly,
+standing in the doorway with a glad face and happy welcome.  "We're so
+glad to see you at last.  Make haste in, you must be tired to death, and
+cold through and through.  Mona's got everything ready for you, as nice as
+can be.  She's worked hard since we heard the boats were come.  We've all
+got good appetites for our breakfast, I guess."
+
+Then, in his pleasure at seeing his wife and child again, Peter Carne
+forgot all about his flowers.  Putting his arms around them both, he gave
+them each a hearty kiss, and all went in together.  "I ain't hardly fit
+to," he said, laughing, "but you're looking as fresh and sweet as two
+daisies this morning."
+
+Diving his hand deep into his pocket, he drew out a handful of gold and
+silver.  "Here, mother, here's something you'll be glad of!  Now, Mona, my
+girl," as he dropped into his arm-chair, "where's my old slippers?"
+
+Mona picked them up from the fender, where they had been warming, and,
+kneeling down, she pulled off his heavy boots.  Once more she was filled
+with the feeling that if she could only do something to make up for the
+harm she had done she would not feel so bad.
+
+"Thank'ee, little maid.  Oh, it's good to be home again!"  He leaned back
+and stretched his tired limbs with a sigh of deep content.  "But I mustn't
+stop here, I must go and have a wash, and change into dry things before I
+have my breakfast.  I can tell you, I'm more than a bit hungry.  When I've
+had it I've got to go down and clean out the boat."
+
+"Oh, not till you've had a few hours' sleep," coaxed Lucy.  "You must have
+some rest, father.  I've a good mind to turn the key on you."
+
+Her husband laughed too.  "There's no need for locks and keys to-day,"
+he said, ruefully.  "If I was to start out I believe I'd have to lie down
+in the road and have a nap before I got to the bottom of the street.
+I'll feel better when I've had a wash."
+
+As he stumbled out of the kitchen Lucy picked up the coins lying on the
+table, and put them in a little locked box in the cupboard.  Mona, coming
+back into the kitchen from putting her father's sea-boots away, saw that
+there seemed to be quite a large sum.
+
+"Shall I have my new hat?" she wondered eagerly.  "There's plenty of money
+now."  But Lucy only said, "I'll have to get wool to make some new
+stockings for your father, and a jersey, and I'll have to go to Baymouth
+to get it.  Mr. Tamlin doesn't keep the right sort.  Can you knit
+stockings, Mona?"
+
+"Ye--es, but I hate----"  She drew herself up sharply.  "Yes, I can, but
+I'd rather scrub, or sweep, or--or anything."
+
+"Never mind, I'll make them.  I'm fond of all that kind of work.
+I'll have to be quick about the jersey, for I see that one he's got on has
+a great hole in the elbow, and he's only got his best one besides.
+I'd better go to Baymouth on Wednesday.  It won't do to put it off."
+
+"I wish I could take you with me," she said to Mona regretfully when the
+Wednesday came, and she was getting ready to start.  "I would, only your
+father thinks he'll be back about tea-time, and he'll need a hot meal when
+he comes.  Never mind, dear, you shall go next time."
+
+"Oh--h--that's all right." Mona tried to speak cheerfully, but neither
+face nor voice looked or sounded all right!  The thought uppermost in her
+mind was that there was no chance of her having her new hat.  Her mother
+could not get that unless she was there to try it on.
+
+She saw her mother off, and she did try to be pleasant, but she could not
+help a little aggrieved feeling at her heart.
+
+"Granny would have bought me one before now," she said to herself.
+She did really want not to have such thoughts.  She still felt mean and
+uncomfortable about the wreath, and in her heart she knew that her
+stepmother was kinder to her than she deserved.
+
+When she had done the few things she had to do, and had had her dinner,
+and changed her frock, she went out into the garden.  It would be less
+lonely there, she thought, and she could weed the path a little.
+She would never touch one of the flower beds again!  Before she had been
+out there long, Millie Higgins came down the hill.  At the sight of Mona,
+Millie drew up.  "So you ain't gone to Baymouth too?" she said, leaning
+over the low stone wall, and evidently prepared for a talk.  "I saw your
+mother starting off.  Why didn't she take you with her?  You'd have liked
+to have gone, wouldn't you?"
+
+"Yes," Mona admitted.
+
+"Well, why didn't you?"
+
+"Somebody had to be here to look after father.  He'll be home before
+mother gets back."
+
+Millie Higgins snorted sarcastically.  "Very nice for some people to be
+able to go off and enjoy themselves and leave others to look after things
+for them!  If I were you I'd say I'd like to go too."
+
+Mona resented Millie's tone.  A sense of fairness rose within her too.
+"If I'd said I wanted to go, I daresay I could have gone," she retorted
+coldly.  "I'm going another time."
+
+"Oh, are you?  Well, that's all right as long as you are satisfied,"
+meaningly.  "Good-bye," and with a nod Millie took herself off.
+But before she had gone more than a few paces she was back again.
+
+"Come on out and play for a bit, won't you?"
+
+"I'd like to," Mona hesitated, "but I don't know for certain what time
+father'll get back."
+
+"Well, I do!  I know they won't be home yet awhile.  They'll wait till the
+tide serves.  Come along, Mona, you might as well come out and play for
+half an hour as stick moping here.  You might spend all your life waiting
+about for the old boats to come in, and never have a bit of pleasure if
+you don't take it when you can.  We'll go down to the quay, then you'll be
+able to see the boats coming.  After they're in sight there'll be heaps of
+time to run home and get things ready."
+
+The temptation was great, too great.  Mona loved the quay, and the life
+and cheerfulness there.  Towards evening all the children in the place
+congregated there, playing 'Last touch,' 'Hop-Scotch,' and all the rest of
+the games they loved, to a chorus of shouts, and screams, and laughter.
+Then there was the sea to look at too, so beautiful and grand, and
+awe-inspiring in the fading light.  Oh, how dearly she loved it all!
+
+In her ears Millie's words still rang: "You might spend all your life
+waiting about for the old boats, and never have a bit of pleasure, if you
+don't take it when you can."
+
+"Wait a minute," she said eagerly, "I'll just put some coal on the fire
+and get my hat."
+
+She banked up a good fire, unhung her hat, and, pulling the door after
+her, ran out to Millie again, "I'm ready now," she said excitedly.
+
+When they arrived at the quay they received a very warm welcome; they were
+just in time to take part in a game of 'Prisoners.'  After that they had
+one of 'Tip,' and one or two of 'Hop-Scotch,' then 'Prisoners' again; and
+how many more Mona could never remember, for she had lost count of time,
+and everything but the fun, until she was suddenly brought to her senses
+by a man's voice saying, "Well, it's time they were in, the clock struck
+seven ten minutes agone."
+
+"Seven!" Mona was thunderstruck.  "Did you say seven?" she gasped, and
+scarcely waiting for an answer she took to her heels and tore up the
+street to her home.  Her mind was full of troubled thoughts.  The fire
+would be out, the house all in darkness.  She had only pulled the front
+door behind her, she had not locked it.  Oh, dear! what a number of things
+she had left undone!  What a muddle she had made of things.  When, as she
+drew near the house, she saw a light shining from the kitchen window, her
+heart sank lower than ever it had done before.
+
+"Father must have come!  Oh! and me not there, and--and nothing ready.
+Oh, I wouldn't have had it happen for anything."  She rushed up to the
+house so fast and burst into the kitchen so violently that her mother, who
+was sitting in her chair, apparently lost in thought, sprang up in alarm.
+
+"Oh, Mona! it's you!  You frightened me so, child.  Where's your father,"
+she asked anxiously.  "Haven't you seen him?"
+
+"No, he hasn't come yet."
+
+Lucy's face grew as white as a lily.  Her eyes were full of terror, which
+always haunted her.  "P'raps he came home while you were out, and went out
+again when he found the house empty."
+
+"He couldn't.  I've been on the quay all the time.  The boats couldn't
+have come in without my seeing them.  I was waiting for him.  Everybody
+was saying how late they were.  They couldn't think why."
+
+"Yes--they are dreadfully late--but I--I didn't think you'd have gone out
+and left the house while I was away," said Lucy with gentle reproach.
+"But, as you did, you should have locked the door behind you.  I s'pose
+Mr. King called before you left?"
+
+"He hasn't been," faltered Mona, her heart giving a great throb.  She had
+entirely forgotten that the landlord's agent was coming for his rent that
+afternoon.  "The money's on the dresser.  I put it there."
+
+"Is it? I couldn't see it.  I looked for it at once when I found the door
+wide open and nobody here."
+
+"Open!  I shut it after me.  I didn't lock it, but I pulled the door fast
+after me.  You can't have looked in the right place, mother.  I put it by
+the brown jug."  And, never doubting but that her mother had overlooked
+it, Mona searched the dressers herself.  But there was no money on them,
+not even a farthing for the baker.  "But I put it there!  I put it there
+myself!" she kept repeating more and more frantically.  She got upon a
+chair and searched every inch of every shelf, and turned every jug and cup
+upside down.  "It _must_ be somewhere."
+
+"Yes, somewhere!  But it isn't here, and it isn't in Mr. King's pocket."
+Poor Lucy sank back in her chair looking ready to faint.  Five shillings
+meant much to her.  It was so horrible, too, to feel that a thief had been
+in, and had perhaps gone all over the house.  Who could say what more he
+had taken, or what mischief he had done.
+
+She was disappointed also in her trust in Mona, and she was tired and
+faint from want of food.  All her pleasure in her day and in her
+homecoming was gone, changed to worry and weariness and disappointment.
+
+"But who can have been so wicked as to take it!" cried Mona passionately.
+"Nobody had any right to open our door and come into our house.
+It's hard to think one can't go out for a few minutes but what somebody
+must come and act dishonest----"
+
+"We can't talk about others not doing right if we don't do right
+ourselves!  Your father and I left you here in charge, and you undertook
+the charge.  We trusted you."
+
+Mona got down from the chair.  "It's very hard if I can't ever go
+anywhere--I only went for a little while.  Millie said father wouldn't be
+here--the boats weren't in sight.  And you see she was right!  They are
+ever so late."
+
+"Well, I suppose we are all made differently, but I couldn't have played
+games knowing that the boats ought to have been in, and not knowing what
+might have happened to my father."
+
+"I get tired of always sticking around, waiting on the old boats.  I never
+thought of there being any danger, they're so often late.  It was only
+towards the end that people came down looking for them and wondering."
+
+Lucy groaned.  "Well, I'm thankful you don't suffer as I do, child.
+P'raps I'm foolish, but I'm terrified of the sea, and I never get
+accustomed to the danger of it."  And she looked so white and wan, Mona's
+heart was touched, and some of the sullenness died out of her face and
+voice.
+
+"I never thought--there was only a little wind," she began, when a sharp
+rap at the door interrupted her, then the latch was raised, and the door
+opened briskly.  "Boats are in sight, Mrs. Carne! and all's well!" cried a
+voice cheerfully, and old Job Maunders popped his grizzled head round the
+screen.  "I thought you might be troubling, ma'am, so I just popped 'fore
+to tell 'ee.  I'm off down to see if I can lend a hand."
+
+And before Lucy could thank him, the kindly old man was hurrying away
+through the garden and down the street.
+
+But what changed feelings he had left behind him!  Tired though she was,
+Lucy was on her feet in a moment and her face radiant.  "Come, dear, we've
+got to bustle round now for a bit.  You run and get some sticks and make a
+good fire, and I'll get out his clean, dry things.  Then while I'm cooking
+the supper you can be laying the cloth."
+
+While she spoke she was gathering up a lot of parcels which were lying
+scattered over the table.
+
+"I'm longing to show you what I've bought."
+
+"Yes," thought Mona, "and I am longing to see!"
+
+"I wonder if you'll like what I've chosen for you."
+
+"I wonder, too!" thought Mona.
+
+"We'll have a good look at everything when we've had supper.  Then we
+needn't be hurrying and scurrying all the time, and there'll be more
+room."
+
+In spite of the upset to her feelings, Mona was interested, but all real
+pleasure was gone.  She knew that probably there was something for her in
+one of the fat parcels, but the thought of taking any more kindness from
+Lucy, to whom she had behaved so badly, was painful.  She wanted, instead,
+to make amends to replace the lost five shillings.  She longed to have the
+money to pay back, but she had not one penny!  All she could do was to
+work, and to go without things she wanted.  She could do the first better
+than the last, and she would rather.  She did not really mind working,
+but she did mind denying herself things she had set her heart on.
+"But I will, I will," she thought to herself while the shock of the theft
+was still on her.
+
+Before very long the fire was burning brightly, the kettle was beginning
+to sing, and Lucy was cooking the sausages and bacon she had brought back
+with her from Baymouth.  The savoury smell of them wafted through the
+kitchen and reached the hungry, weary man trudging heavily up the garden.
+Then Mona caught the sound of his coming, and rushed out, while Lucy stood
+behind her with radiant face and glowing eyes.
+
+"You must be chilled to the bone, and dead beat," she cried.  "Ain't you,
+father?"
+
+"I thought I was--but I ain't now.  It's worth everything just for the
+pleasure of coming back to a home like mine, my girl."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Mona was growing more and more impatient.  "Grown-ups do take so long over
+everything," she thought irritably.  "If it gets much later mother will
+say, 'there isn't time to open the parcels to-night, we must wait till
+morning!'  Oh, dear!"
+
+It was long past eight before they had sat down to their meal, and then,
+her father and mother both being very tired, they took it in such a
+leisurely fashion that Mona thought they never would have finished.
+They, of course, were glad to sit still and talk of their day's doings,
+but Mona, as soon as her hunger was satisfied, was simply longing to be up
+and examining the contents of the tempting-looking parcels which had
+waited so long on the side-table.
+
+She fidgeted with her knife and fork, she rattled her cup and shuffled
+her feet, but still her father went on describing his adventures,
+and still Lucy sat listening eagerly.  To them this was the happiest and
+most restful time of the day.  The day's work was done, duty would not
+call to them again until morning.  The kitchen was warm and comfortable.
+It was just the right time for a leisurely talk, but Mona did not realise
+this.
+
+At last, disturbed by her restlessness, her mother and father broke off
+their talk and got up from the table.
+
+"Now you have a pipe, father, while Mona and I put away the supper things.
+After that I'll be able to sit down and hear the rest of it.  I expect
+Mona's tired and wants to be off to bed."
+
+"No, I am not," said Mona sharply.  In her heart she grumbled, "Work,
+work, always work--never a bit of fun."  She had forgotten the hours she
+had spent playing on the quay only a little while before.  She would not
+remind her mother of the parcels, but sulked because she had forgotten
+them.  Lucy looked at her anxiously now and again, puzzled to know why her
+mood had changed so suddenly.  She was still puzzling over the matter,
+when, in putting something back on the side-table, she saw the pile of
+parcels.
+
+"Why, Mona," she cried, "I'd forgot all about my shopping, and the things
+I was going to show you.  Make haste and dry your hands and come and look.
+We'll be able to have a nice, quiet little time now before we go to bed!"
+
+Mona's face changed at once, and her whole manner too.  It did not take
+her long after that to finish up and be ready.
+
+"That," said Lucy, putting one big roll aside, "that's the blue wool for
+father.  We needn't open that now.  Oh, and this, is for you, dear,"
+pushing a big box towards Mona.  "I hope you will like it.  I thought it
+sweetly pretty.  Directly I saw it I thought to myself, now that'll just
+suit our Mona!  I seemed to see you wearing it."
+
+Mona's heart beat faster, her cheeks grew rosy with excitement.
+"Whatever can it be!" she wondered, and her fingers trembled so with
+eagerness, she was ever so long untying the string.
+
+"If you don't like it," went on Lucy, busy untying the knots of another
+parcel, "Mr. Phillips promised he'd change it, if it wasn't damaged at
+all."
+
+How tantalising Lucy was!  Whatever could it be!  Then at last the knot
+gave way, and Mona lifted the lid, and pushed the silver paper aside.
+"Oh, mother!"  She clapped her hands in a rapture, her eyes sparkled with
+joy.  "Oh, mother!  It's--it's lovely.  I didn't know, I didn't think you
+could get me a hat to-day--oh--h!"
+
+"Then you like it?"
+
+"It's lovely!"
+
+"Try it on, and let us see if it suits you.  That's the chief thing, isn't
+it?"  Lucy tried to look grave, but she was nearly as excited and
+delighted as Mona herself.
+
+Mona put it on and looked at her mother with shy questioning.  She hoped
+so much that it did suit her, for she longed to keep it.
+
+Lucy gazed at her critically from all sides, then she nodded with grave
+approval.  "Yes, I never saw you in one that suited you better, to my
+mind.  Go and see for yourself--but wait a minute," as Mona was hurrying
+away to the scullery, where hung a little mirror about a foot square.
+"Don't treat that poor box so badly," as she rescued it from the floor,
+"there's something else in amongst all that paper.  Look again."
+
+Mona opened the box again, but her heart had sunk suddenly.  Yes, there it
+was, the very thing she had dreaded to see--a wreath of blue
+forget-me-nots and soft green leaves!  There was a piece of black ribbon
+velvet too, to make the whole complete.
+
+It was a charming wreath.  Compared with it, her own purchase seemed poor
+and common.
+
+Mona held it in her hand, gazing at it with lowered lids.  Then suddenly
+her eyes filled with tears.  "Oh, mother," she stammered brokenly.
+There was such real pain in her voice that Lucy looked at her in anxious
+surprise.  "Don't you like it?" she asked, disappointed.  She had hoped
+for a rapturous outburst of pleasure, and, instead, Mona stood silent,
+embarrassed, evidently on the verge of tears.
+
+"Don't you like it, dear?" she asked again.  "I thought you would have
+been pleased.  The blue on that silvery white straw looks so pretty,
+I think.  Don't you?"
+
+Mona nodded, but did not speak.  "Mona, dear, what is it?  Tell me what's
+wrong?  I am sure there is something.  Perhaps I can help you, if I know."
+
+Tears had been near Mona's eyes for some moments, and the kindness in her
+mother's face and voice broke down all restraints.  Tossing the hat one
+way and the wreath another, Mona ran into Lucy's arms, sobbing bitterly.
+
+"Oh--I must tell.  I can't keep it in any longer!  Oh, mother, I've got a
+wreath already, I bought it myself, and I hate it--oh, I hate it!
+I--I can't tell you how bad I've felt about it ever since I got it!"
+And then the whole of the miserable story came pouring out.  She kept
+nothing back.  She told of her keeping the eighteenpence, of her dream, of
+her mortification in the shop.  "And--and it seemed as if my dream came
+true," she said, when presently the worst was told.  "I was so crazy for
+the forget-me-nots that I couldn't get, that I never thought anything of
+the wallflowers close beside me, and then, when I had got forget-me-nots,
+I was disappointed; and when I lost the wallflowers, I began to think all
+the world of them!"
+
+Lucy, with her head resting against Mona's, as she held her in her arms,
+smiled sadly.  "It's the same with all of us, dear.  We're so busy looking
+into our neighbour's garden patch, envying them what they've got, that we
+don't see what we've got in our own, and, as like as not, trample it down
+with reaching up to look over the wall, and lose it altogether.  Now, pick
+up your hat and your flowers and try to get all the pleasure you can out
+of them.  I hoped they'd have brought you such a lot.  Or would you rather
+change the wreath for another?"
+
+But Mona would not hear of that.  "Oh, no, I wanted blue forget-me-nots,
+and these are lovely.  I'd rather have them than anything, thank you,
+mother."
+
+"You couldn't have anything prettier," said Peter Carne, rousing suddenly
+from his nap.
+
+Lucy laughed.  "Now, father, whatever do you know about it!  You go to
+sleep again.  Mona and I are talking about finery."  She was busy undoing
+a large parcel of drapery.  "I've got the print here for your frocks,"
+she turned to Mona again.  "I'd have liked to have had both dark blue,
+but I thought you might fancy a pink one, so I got stuff for one of each.
+There, do you like them?"
+
+"Like them!  Oh, mother, are they really both for me!  And what pretty
+buttons!  Are those for me, too?"
+
+"Yes, it's all for you, dear."  Lucy's voice had begun to sound tired and
+faint.  She had had a long, wearying day, and the parcels had been heavy.
+Mona, though, did not notice anything.  She was busy arranging the wreath
+round the crown of her hat.  "If I only had a white dress, wouldn't it
+look nice with this!  Oh, I'd love to have a white dress.  If I'd stayed
+with granny, she was going to get me one this summer."
+
+Her father turned and looked across at them.  "What've you bought for
+yourself, Lucy, my girl?" he asked suddenly.  Lucy looked up in surprise.
+"I--oh, I didn't want anything, father," she said, somewhat embarrassed.
+"I don't need anything new this summer.  My dove-colour merino is as good
+as it was the day I bought it.  It seems foolish to--to buy new when one
+doesn't need it," she added hastily.  "It is only a trouble to keep."
+
+"Do you mean the one you were married in?" asked Peter shrewdly.
+
+Lucy nodded.  "Yes--the one you liked.  I'll get myself a new pair of
+gloves.  I can get those at Tamlin's."
+
+"Um!" There was a deal of meaning in Peter Carne's 'Um.'  "Well, you'll
+never get one that's prettier, but you ought to have something new and
+nice, too.  And what about your medicine?"
+
+"Oh!"  Lucy coloured.  "Oh, I--I'm trying to do without it.  It isn't good
+for anyone to be taking it too often."
+
+"That's what granny always says," chimed in Mona.  "She says if people get
+into the way of taking medicine they get to think they can't do without
+it."
+
+Lucy's pale cheeks flushed pink, and a hurt look crept into her eyes.
+Her husband was deeply annoyed, and showed it.  "I think, my girl,"
+he said, in a sterner voice than Mona had ever heard before, "you'd better
+wait to offer your opinion until you are old enough to know what you are
+talking about.  You are more than old enough, though, to know that it's
+wrong to repeat what's said before you.  After all your mother's bought
+for you, too, I'd have thought," he broke off, for Mona's eyes were once
+more full of tears.  Never in her life before had her father spoken to her
+so severely.
+
+"I--I didn't mean any harm," she stammered, apologetically.
+
+"Then you should learn to think, and not say things that may do harm.
+If what's on your tongue to say is likely to hurt anybody's feelings, or
+to make mischief, then don't let it slip past your tongue.  You'll get on
+if you keep that rule in your mind."
+
+Lucy put her arm round her little stepdaughter, and drew her close.
+"I know that our Mona wouldn't hurt me wilfully," she said kindly.
+"She's got too warm a heart."
+
+Peter Carne patted Mona's shoulder tenderly.  "I know--I know she has.
+We've all got to learn and you can't know things unless they are pointed
+out to you.  I'm always thankful to them that helped me in that way when I
+was young.  Mona'll be glad, too, some day."
+
+"Grown-ups always say things like that," thought Mona, wistfully.  She did
+not feel at all glad then.  In fact, she felt so ashamed and so mortified,
+she thought gladness could never enter into her life again.
+
+It did come, though, for the hurt was not as deep as she thought.  It came
+the next day when her mother trimmed the new hat.  Lucy had good taste,
+and when living at the Grange she had often helped the young ladies with
+their millinery.
+
+"If I put the velvet bow just where the wreath joins, and let the ends
+hang just ever so little over the edge of the brim, I think it'll look
+nice and a little bit out of the common.  Don't you, dear?"  She held up
+the hat to show off the effect.  Mona thought it was lovely.
+
+"Then, as soon as ever I can I'll cut out your dresses, and, if you'll
+help me with the housework, I'll make them myself.  It won't take me so
+very long, with my machine."
+
+She spoke of it so lightly that Mona did not realise in the least what the
+fatigue of it would be to her.
+
+"Oh, I'll do everything," she said, cheerfully.  "You leave everything to
+me, mother, and only do your sewing, I can manage."
+
+And she did manage, and well, too, in the intervals of trying on, and
+admiring, and watching the frocks growing into shape and beauty under
+Lucy's hands.  They were quite plain little frocks, but in Mona's eyes
+they were lovely.  She could not decide which of them she liked best.
+
+Lucy finished off the pink one first, and as soon as it was completed Mona
+took it upstairs and put it on.  New dresses very seldom came her way, and
+she was in a great state of excitement.  She had never in her life before
+had one that she might put on on a week day and wear all day long.
+As a rule, one had to wait for Sunday, and then the frock might only be
+worn for a few hours, if the weather was fine, and as soon as ever church
+and Sunday school were over it had to be changed.
+
+"Doesn't it look nice!" she cried, delightedly, running downstairs to show
+her mother.  "And it fits me like a glove!"  Her cheeks were almost as
+pink as her gown.  Her blue eyes glowed with pleasure.  She looked like a
+pretty pink blossom as she stood with the sunshine pouring in on her.
+
+Lucy smiled at the compliment to her skill.  "You do look nice, dear."
+
+Holding out her crisp, pink skirt, Mona danced gaily round the kitchen,
+the breeze blowing in at the open door ruffled her hair a little.
+She drew herself up, breathless, and glanced out.  Everything certainly
+looked very tempting out of doors.  She longed to go and have a run,
+the breeze and the sunshine seemed to be calling her.  She scarcely liked,
+though, to leave her mother, tired as she was, and still busy at the blue
+frock.
+
+While she was standing looking out, her father appeared at the gate,
+a letter in his hand.  He came up the path reading it.  When he came to
+the porch he looked up and saw Mona.
+
+"Oh, my!  How smart we are!"
+
+"Do you like it, father?  Isn't it pretty?"
+
+"Fine!  And now I s'pose you're longing to go out and show it off!"
+He laughed, and pinched her cheeks.  Mona felt quite guilty at his quick
+reading of her thoughts, but before she could reply he went on, more
+gravely, "I've got a letter from your grandmother.  She sends her love to
+you."  He went inside and put the letter down on the table before Lucy.
+
+"She doesn't seem very well," he said, with a pucker on his brow, "and she
+complains of being lonely.  I'm very glad she's got nice neighbours handy.
+They'd be sure to run in and see her, and look after her a bit if she's
+bad.  I shouldn't like to feel she was ailing, and all alone."
+
+Mona's face dropped, and her heart too.  She felt horribly guilty.
+"Would Mrs. Lane go in and sit with her for company?  Would she look after
+her if she was bad?  Had they made up their quarrel?" she wondered,
+"or were they still not on speaking terms?"  She did not know whether to
+tell her father of the quarrel or not, so she said nothing.
+
+Lucy had been busy trying to frame an excuse for sending Mona out.
+She knew she was longing to go.
+
+"Mona," she said, when at last they had finished discussing the letter and
+its contents, "would you like to go down to Mr. Henders' for some tea and
+sugar, and go on to Dr. Edwards for my medicine?  He said it would be
+ready whenever anyone could come for it."
+
+Mona beamed with pleasure.  "I'll go and put on my hat and boots now this
+minute," and within ten she was ready, and walking, basket in hand, and
+very self-conscious, down the hill to the shops.
+
+The church clock struck twelve as she reached the doctor's.  In a few
+minutes the children would all be pouring out of school, and wouldn't they
+stare when they saw her!  She felt almost shy at the thought of facing
+them, and gladly turned into Mr. Henders' out of their way.  She would
+dawdle about in there, she told herself, until most of them had gone by.
+
+She did dawdle about until Mrs. Henders asked her twice if there was
+anything more that she wanted, and, as she could not pretend that there
+was, she had to step out and face the world again.  Fortunately, though,
+only the older and sedater girls were to be seen.  Philippa Luxmore and
+Patty Row, each carrying her dinner bag, Winnie Maunders, and Kitty
+Johnson, and one or two Mona did not know to speak to.
+
+Philippa and Patty always brought their dinner with them, as the school
+was rather far from their homes.  Sometimes they had their meal in the
+schoolroom, but, if the weather was warm and dry, they liked best to eat
+it out of doors, down on the rocks, or in a field by the school.
+
+When they caught sight of Mona they rushed up to her eagerly.  "Oh, my!
+How nice you look, Mona.  What a pretty frock!  It's new, isn't it?
+Are you going to wear it every day or only on Sundays?"
+
+"Oh, every day." Mona spoke in a lofty tone.  "It's only one of my working
+frocks.  I've got two.  The other's a blue one.  Mother's made them for
+me."
+
+"Um! Your mother is good to you, Mona Carne!  I wish I'd got frocks like
+that for working in.  I'd be glad to have them for Sundays.  Where are you
+going?"
+
+"Home."
+
+"Oh, don't go home yet.  Patty and me are going down to eat our dinner on
+the rocks.  Come on down too.  You won't hurt your frock."
+
+"I don't think I can stay--I ought to go back.  I've got mother's medicine
+here.  It's getting on for dinner-time, too, and father's home to-day."
+Glancing up the road, she caught sight of Millie Higgins and another girl
+in the distance.  She particularly did not want to meet Millie just then.
+She made such rude remarks, and she always fingered things so.  Mona had
+not forgiven her either for leading her astray the day her mother went
+into Baymouth.
+
+She hesitated a moment and was lost.  She turned and walked away from her
+home.  Philippa slipped her arm through hers on one side, and Patty on the
+other, and almost before she knew where she was she was racing with them
+to the shore.
+
+The wind had risen somewhat, so it took them some minutes to find a nice
+sheltered spot in the sunshine and out of the wind, and they had to sit on
+the land side of the rocks, with their backs to the sea.  It was very
+pleasant, though, and, once settled, Mona told them all about her new hat,
+and they gave her a share of their dinner.
+
+After that they told her of the new summer frocks they were to have, and
+the conversation grew so interesting and absorbing, they forgot everything
+else until the church clock struck two!
+
+With a howl of dismay, they all sprang to their feet, and then they howled
+again, and even more loudly.
+
+"Oh, Mona, look!  The tide's right in!  We'll have to get back through the
+fields, and, oh, shan't we be late!"  Patty and Philippa began to scramble
+back as fast as ever they could.  "Good-bye," they called over their
+shoulders.  "Oh, Mona, look out for your basket, it's floating."
+
+They could not have stayed to help her, but it did seem heartless of them
+to run away and leave her alone to manage as best she could.
+Mona looked about her helplessly, her heart sinking right down, down.
+The tide at that point had a way of creeping up gently, stealthily, and
+then, with one big swirl would rush right in and around the group of rocks
+on which she stood.  If the wind was high and the sea at all rough, as
+likely as not it would sweep right over the rocks and back again with such
+force that anyone or anything on them was swept away with it.  There was
+not wind enough to-day for that.  At least, Mona herself was safe, but her
+basket!--already that was swamped with water.  At the thought of the
+ruined tea and sugar her eyes filled.  Her mother's medicine was in the
+basket too.  She would save that!  At any rate, she would feel less guilty
+and ashamed if she could take that back to her.  She made a dash to seize
+the basket before the next wave caught it, slipped on the slimy rock, and
+fell face forward--and at the same moment she heard the crash of breaking
+glass.  The medicine was mingling with the waves, the basket was riding
+out on the crest of them!
+
+Poor Mona!  At that minute the hardest heart would have felt sorry for
+her.  Her dress was ruined, her hands were scraped and cut, her mother's
+tonic was gone!  The misery which filled her heart was more than she could
+bear.  "I can't go home!" she sobbed.  "I can't, I never can any more."
+Big sobs shook her, tears poured down her cheeks.  "I can't go home,
+I can't face them.  Oh, what shall I do!  What shall I do!"  She looked
+down over her wet, green-slimed frock, so pretty and fresh but an hour
+ago, and her sobs broke out again.  "I'll--I'll run away--they won't want
+me after this, but p'raps they'll be sorry for me when they miss me.
+Oh, I wish I'd never come, I wish I'd never met Phil and Patty--they'd no
+business to ask me to come with them--it was too bad of them.  I wish I'd
+gone straight home.  If it hadn't been for Millie Higgins I should have,
+and all this would have been saved.  Oh, what shall I do?"
+
+As there was no one but a few gulls to advise her, she received no
+comfort, and had, after all, to settle the question for herself.
+
+For a few moments all she did was to cry.  Then, "I'll go to granny," she
+decided.  "She'll be glad to have me, and she won't scold.  Yes, I'll go
+to granny.  Father and mother will be glad to be rid of me--I--I'm nothing
+but a trouble to them!"  But, all the same, she felt so sorry for herself
+she could scarcely see where she was going for the tears which blinded
+her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Mona's first thought was to avoid being seen by anyone who would recognise
+her; her second--that she must keep out of sight as much as possible until
+her dress was dry, and her face less disfigured, for anyone meeting her
+now would stop her to enquire if she had met with an accident.
+
+By keeping along the shore for some little distance it was possible to get
+out on to the high road to Milbrook, but it was not an easy path to
+travel.  It meant continued climbing over rocks, ploughing through loose,
+soft sand, or heavy wet sand, clinging to the face of a cliff and
+scrambling along it, or wading through deep water.
+
+What her new pink frock would be like by the time she reached the road
+Mona did not care to contemplate.  "It will be ruined for ever--
+the first time of wearing, too," and a sob caught in her throat as she
+remembered how her mother had toiled to get the material, and then to make
+the dress.  Now that she was losing her she realised how much she had
+grown to love her mother in the short time she had lived with her, and how
+good and kind Lucy had been.  It never occurred to her that she was
+doubling her mother's trouble by running away in this cowardly fashion.
+Indeed, she would have been immensely surprised if anyone had hinted at
+such a thing.  She was convinced that she was doing something very heroic
+and self-denying; and the more she hurt herself clambering over the rough
+roads, the more heroic and brave she thought herself.  And when, at last,
+she stepped out on the high road, and realised that she had seven miles to
+walk to her grandmother's house, she thought herself bravest of all,
+a perfect heroine, in fact.
+
+Already she was feeling hungry, for breakfast had been early, and Patty
+and Philippa had only been able to spare her a slice of bread and butter
+and a biscuit.
+
+On she trudged, and on, and on.  A distant clock struck three, and just at
+the same moment she passed a sign-post with 'Milbrook, 6 miles,' painted
+on one arm of it, and 'Seacombe, 1 mile,' on another.
+
+"Then she had six long tiresome miles to walk before she could get a
+meal!" she thought.  "If she did not get on faster than she was doing,
+it would be dark night before she reached Hillside Cottage, and granny
+would be gone to bed.  She always went to bed as soon as daylight began to
+go.  How frightened she would be at being called up to let Mona in!"
+
+The thought quickened her steps a little, and she covered the next mile in
+good time.  She ran down the hills, and trotted briskly along the level.
+She got on faster in that way, but she very soon felt too tired to
+continue.  Her legs ached so badly she had no heart left for running.
+Now and again she leaned back against the hedge for a little rest, and oh,
+how she did wish that it was the blackberry season!  She was starving, or
+felt as though she was.
+
+By and by, when she had quite despaired of ever reaching granny's that
+night, she caught sight of a cart lumbering along in the distance, and a
+man sitting up in it driving.  It was the first sight of a human being
+that she had seen since she started, and she welcomed it gladly.
+"Perhaps it's going my way, and will give me a lift."
+
+The thought so cheered her that she went back a little way to meet the
+cart.  When she drew nearer she saw that it was a market cart, and that
+the driver was a kindly-looking elderly man.  Every now and again he
+talked encouragingly to his horse to quicken its pace.  Between whiles he
+sang snatches of a hymn in a loud, rolling bass.
+
+As soon as he saw that Mona was waiting to speak to him, he stopped his
+singing and drew up the horse.
+
+"Good evening, missie," he said civilly.  "Are you wanting a lift?"
+
+"Oh, please--I wondered if you would--I am so tired I can hardly walk."
+
+"Um!  Where were you thinking of going?"
+
+"To Hillside----"
+
+"Um!  You've got a brave step to go yet.  We're a good three miles from
+Hillside.  Have 'ee come far?"
+
+"From Seacombe," Mona admitted reluctantly.
+
+"My word!  It's a brave long walk for a young thing like you to take
+alone.  Why, you wouldn't reach Hillside till after dark--not at the rate
+you could go.  You look tired out already."
+
+"I am," sighed Mona, pathetically.
+
+"Here, jump up quick, or my old nag'll fall asleep, and I'll have the
+works of the world to wake un up again."
+
+Mona laughed.  "Thank you," she said, eyes and voice full of gratitude as
+she clambered up the wheel, and perched herself on the high, hard seat
+beside her new friend.  "I'm very much obliged to you, sir.  I don't
+believe I'd ever have got there, walking all the way.  I didn't know seven
+miles was so far."
+
+"I don't believe you would.  A mile seems like two when you ain't in good
+trim for it, and the more miles you walk, the longer they seem.
+Gee up, you old rogue you!"  This to the horse, who, after much coaxing,
+had consented to move on again.
+
+"I never felt so tired in all my life before," sighed Mona, in a voice so
+faint and weary that her companion looked at her sharply.
+
+"Had any dinner?" he asked.
+
+Mona shook her head.  "No, I--I missed my dinner.  I--I came away in a
+hurry."
+
+"That's always a bad plan."  He stooped down and pulled a straw bag
+towards him.  "I couldn't eat all mine.  My wife was too generous to me.
+P'raps you could help me out with it.  I don't like to take any home--it
+kind of hurts my wife's feelings if I do.  She thinks I'm ill, too.
+Can you finish up what's left?"
+
+He unrolled a clean white cloth and laid it and its contents on Mona's
+lap.
+
+"Could she!"  Mona's eyes answered for her.
+
+"Do you like bread and ham?  It may be a trifle thick----"
+
+"Oh!" gasped Mona, "I think bread and ham, _thick_ bread and ham is nicer
+than anything else in the world!"
+
+"Um! Peg away, then.  And there's an orange, in case you're thirsty."
+
+"Oh, you are kind!" cried Mona, gratefully.  "And oh, I am so glad I met
+you, I don't believe I'd have got much further, I was feeling so faint."
+
+"That was from want of food.  Here, before you begin, hadn't you better
+put something about your shoulders.  It's getting fresh now the sun's gone
+down, and when we get to the top of that hill we shall feel it.  Have you
+got a coat, or a shawl, or something?"
+
+"No, I haven't.  I--I came away in a hurry--but I shall be all right.
+I don't mind the cold."
+
+"I should think you were in too much of a hurry--to have forget your
+shawl, and your dinner, too.  Wasn't there anybody to look after you,
+and see you started out properly?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You ain't an orphan, are you?"
+
+"Oh, no, I've got a father and a stepmother----"
+
+"Oh-h!" meaningly.  "Is that the trouble?"
+
+Mona fired up at once in defence of Lucy.  "No, it isn't.  She's just the
+same as my own mother.  She's so kind to me--if she hadn't been so kind
+I--I wouldn't have minded so much.  She sat up last night to--to finish
+making my frock for me."  Her words caught in her throat, and she could
+say no more.
+
+Her companion eyed first her disfigured face, and then her bedraggled
+frock.  "It seems to have seen trouble since last night, don't it?" he
+remarked drily, and then the words and the sobs in Mona's throat poured
+out together.
+
+"That's why--I--I'm here.  I can't go home and show her what I've done.
+It was so pretty only this morning--and now----"  Then bit by bit
+Mona poured forth her tale of woe into the ears of the kindly stranger,
+and Mr. Dodds sat and listened patiently, thoughtfully.
+
+"And what about your poor father and mother and their feelings," he asked
+when Mona had done.
+
+"Oh--oh--they'll be glad to be rid of me.  They'll be better without me,"
+said Mona, with the air and voice of a martyr.
+
+"Um!  If you're certain sure of that, all well and good, but wouldn't it
+have been better to have went back and asked them?  It does seem a bit
+hard that they should be made to suffer more 'cause they've suffered so
+much already.  They won't know but what you've been carried out to sea
+'long with your poor mother's tonic."
+
+Mona did not reply.  In her inmost heart she knew that he was right,
+but she hadn't the courage to face the truth.  It was easier, too, to go
+on than to go back, and granny would be glad to see her.  She would be
+sorry for her, and would make much of her.  Granny always thought that all
+she did was right.
+
+In spite of her feelings, though, Mona finished her meal, and felt much
+better for it, but she presently grew so sleepy she could not talk and
+could scarcely keep on her seat.  Mr. Dodds noticed the curly head sink
+down lower and lower, then start up again with a jerk, then droop again.
+
+"Look here--what's your name, my dear?"
+
+"Mona--Carne," said Mona, sleepily, quite oblivious of the fact that she
+had given away her identity.
+
+"Well, Mona, what I was going to say was, you'll be tumbling off your seat
+and find yourself under the wheel before you know where you are; so I'd
+advise you to get behind there, and curl down into the straw.  Then, if
+you draw my top-coat over you, you'll be safe and warm both."
+
+Mona needed no second bidding.  She almost tumbled into the clean,
+sweet-smelling straw.  "Thank you," she was going to say, as she drew the
+coat up over her, but she only got as far as 'thank,' and it seemed to her
+that before she could say 'you,' she was roused again by the cart drawing
+up, and there she was at her grandmother's gate, with granny standing on
+the doorstep peering out into the dimness.  She thought she had closed her
+eyes for only a minute, and in that minute they had travelled three miles.
+
+"Is that you, Mr. Dodds?"  Granny called out sharply.  "Whatever made 'ee
+come at this time of night?  'Tis time your poor 'orse was 'ome in his
+stable, and you in your own house!"
+
+"I've come on purpose to bring you something very valuable, Mrs. Barnes.
+I've got a nice surprise for 'ee here in my cart.  Now then, little maid,
+you've come to the end of your journey--and I've got a brave way to go."
+
+Mona was still so sleepy that she had to be almost lifted out of the cart.
+
+"What! Why! Mona!"  Then, as Mona stumbled up the path she almost fell
+into her grandmother's arms.  "What's the meaning of it?  What are they
+thinking about to send 'ee back at this time of night!  In another few
+minutes I'd have been gone to bed.  I don't call it considerate at all."
+
+"They don't know," stammered Mona.  "I wasn't sent, I came.  Oh, granny,
+don't ask about it now--let me get indoors and sit down.  I'm so tired I
+can't stand.  I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."
+
+But tired though she was, she turned back and thanked her rescuer.
+"I'd have been sleeping under a hedge to-night, if it hadn't been for
+you," she said gratefully.
+
+"Oh, what I did isn't anything," he said amiably.  "'Tisn't worth speaking
+about.  I don't doubt but what you'd do as much for me, if I wanted it.
+Good night, Mrs. Barnes.  Take care of yourself, ma'am, it's a bit fresh
+to-night.  Good night, little maid.  Gee-up, Nettle, my son."
+
+What he had done was a mere nothing, as he said.  But what he did do
+before the night was over was a very big something.  Between two and three
+hours later he was in Seacombe, and knocking at Peter Carne's door.
+
+"I knew you'd be anxious, so I thought I'd just step along and let 'ee
+know that your little maid's all right," he said quietly, making no
+mention of the seven long miles he had tramped after he had fed and
+stabled his horse for the night.
+
+"Anxious!"  Lucy lay half fainting in her chair.  Peter's face was white
+and drawn with the anguish of the last few hours.  Neither of them could
+doubt any longer that Mona had been swept off the rock and out to sea.
+Nothing else could have kept her, they thought.  Patty and Philippa had
+told where they had last seen her, but it was four o'clock before they had
+come out of school and heard that she was missing.  So the crowds
+clustering about the shore had never any hope of finding her alive.
+
+Peter Carne almost fainted, too, with the relief the stranger's words
+brought him.  The best he had dared to hope for when the knock came was
+the news that Mona's body had been washed in.  The revulsion of feeling
+from despair to joy sent him reeling helpless into a chair.
+
+Humphrey Dodds put out his arms and supported him gently.  "I didn't know,
+I ought to have thought, and told 'ee more careful like."
+
+"Where is she?" gasped Lucy.
+
+"Safe with her grandmother--and there I'd let her bide for a bit, if I was
+you," he added, with a twinkle in his eye.  "It'll do her good."
+
+They tried to thank him, but words failed them both.  They pressed him to
+stay the night, he must be so tired, and it was so late, but he refused.
+A walk was nothing to him, and he had to be at work by five the next
+morning.  "But I wouldn't say 'no' to a bit of supper," he said, knowing
+quite well that they would all be better for some food.
+
+Then, while Lucy got the meal ready, Peter went down to tell his good
+news, and send the weary searchers to their homes.
+
+Over their supper Mr. Dodds told them of Mona's pitiful little confession.
+"It doesn't seem hardly fair to tell again what she told me, but I thought
+it might help you to understand how she came to be so foolish.  It don't
+seem so bad when you know how it all came about."
+
+When he had had his supper and a pipe, he started on his homeward way,
+with but the faintest chance of meeting anyone at that hour who could give
+him a lift over some of the long miles.
+
+Little dreaming of the trouble she was causing, Mona, clad in one of her
+grandmother's huge, plain night-gowns, and rolled up in blankets, slept on
+the old sofa in the kitchen, as dreamlessly and placidly as though she
+hadn't a care on her mind.
+
+Overhead, Grannie Barnes moaned and groaned, and tossed and heaved on her
+bed, but Mona slept on unconcerned and happy.  Even the creaking of the
+stairs when granny came down in the morning did not rouse her.  The first
+thing that she was conscious of was a hand shaking her by the shoulders,
+and a voice saying rather sharply, "Come, wake up.  Don't you know that
+it's eight o'clock, and no fire lit, nor nothing!  I thought I might have
+lain on a bit this morning, and you'd have brought me a cup of tea,
+knowing how bad I've been, and very far from well yet.  You said you did
+it for your stepmother.  It's a good thing I didn't wait any longer!"
+
+Mona sat up and stretched, and rubbed her eyes.  "Could this be granny
+talking?  Granny, who had never expected anything of her!"
+
+No one feels in the best of tempers when roused out of a beautiful sleep,
+and to be greeted by a scolding when least of all expecting it, does not
+make one feel more amiable.
+
+"I was fast asleep," she mumbled, yawning.  "I couldn't know the time if I
+was asleep.  You should have called me."  She dropped back on her pillow
+wearily.  "Oh, I'm so tired and I am aching all over.  I don't believe
+I'll ever wake up any more, granny.  Why--why must I get up?"
+
+"To do some work for once.  I thought you might want some breakfast."
+
+This was so unlike the indulgent granny she had known before she went
+away, that Mona could not help opening her eyes wide in surprise.
+Then she sat up, and, as granny did not relent, she put her feet over the
+edge of the sofa and began to think about dressing.
+
+"What frock can I put on, granny?"  It suddenly struck her that it would
+not be very pleasant to be living in one place while all her belongings
+were in another.
+
+"The one you took off, I s'pose."
+
+"But I can't.  It isn't fit to wear till it has been washed and ironed.
+It wants mending, too.  I tore it dreadfully."
+
+"Um!  And who do you think is going to do all that?"
+
+Mona stared again at her granny with perplexed and anxious eyes.
+There used to be no question as to who would do all those things for her.
+"I don't know," she faltered.
+
+"Well, I can't.  I haven't hardly got the strength to stand and wash my
+own few things, and I'm much too bad to be starching and ironing frocks
+every few days.  Better your stepmother had got you a good stuff one than
+such a thing as that.  If she had, it wouldn't have been spoilt by your
+falling on the seaweed.  Nonsense, I call it!"  Granny drew back the
+curtains sharply, as though to give vent to her feelings.  The perplexity
+in Mona's mind increased.  She was troubled, too, by the marked change in
+her grandmother.  In the bright morning light which now poured in, she
+noticed for the first time a great difference in her appearance as well as
+in her manner.  She was much thinner than she used to be, and very pale.
+Her face had a drawn look, and her eyes seemed sunken.  She seemed,
+somehow, to have shrunken in every way.  Her expression used to be smiling
+and kindly.  It was now peevish and irritable.
+
+For the first time Mona realised that her grandmother had been very ill,
+and not merely complaining.
+
+"I'll light the fire, granny, in a minute--I mean, I would if I knew what
+to put on."
+
+"There's one of your very old frocks upstairs, hanging behind the door in
+your own room.  It's shabby, and it's small for you, I expect, but you'll
+have to make it do, if you haven't got any other."
+
+"It'll do for the time, till my pink one is fit to wear again."
+
+"Yes--but who's going to make it fit?  That's what I'd like to know.
+Can you do it yourself?  I s'pose you'd have to if you was with your
+stepmother."
+
+"No, I can't do it.  Do you think Mrs. Lane would?  I'd do something for
+her----"
+
+Her grandmother turned to her with a look so full of anger that Mona's
+words died on her lips.  For the moment she had forgotten all about the
+quarrel.
+
+"Mrs. Lane!  Mrs. Lane!  After the things she said about you--you'd ask
+her to do you a favour?  Well, Mona Carne, I'm ashamed of you!  Don't you
+know that I've never spoken to her nor her husband since that day she said
+you'd pulled down the faggots that threw me down, and then had left her
+cats to bear the blame of it.  I've never got over that fall, and I've
+never got over her saying that of you, and, ill though I've been,
+I've never demeaned myself by asking her to come in to see me.
+I don't know what you can be thinking of.  I'm thankful I've got more
+self-respect."
+
+Mona's face was crimson, and her eyes were full of shame.  Oh, how
+bitterly she repented now that she had not had the courage to speak out
+that day and say honestly, "Granny, Mrs. Lane was right, I did pull over
+the faggots and forgot them.  It was my fault that you tripped and fell--
+but I never meant that the blame should fall on anyone else."
+
+She longed to say it now, but her tongue failed her.  What had been such a
+little thing to start with had now grown quite serious.
+
+When her father had wanted her to come home, he had consoled himself for
+taking her from granny by the thought that she had neighbours and friends
+about her for company, but now it seemed that she would rather die alone
+than ask their help, or even let them know that she was ill.
+
+Mona turned despondently away, and slowly mounted the stairs.  "If you do
+ever so little a thing wrong, it grows and grows until it's a big thing!
+Here's granny all alone, 'cause of me, and mother all alone, 'cause of me,
+and worrying herself finely by now, I expect, and--and I shouldn't wonder
+if it makes her ill again," Mona's eyes filled at the thought, "and--and I
+never meant to be a bad girl.  I--I seem to be one before I know it--it is
+hard lines."
+
+She unhung her old frock from behind the door, and in the chest of drawers
+she found an old apron, "I shall begin to wonder soon if I've ever been
+away," she thought to herself, as she looked at herself in the tiny
+mirror.
+
+"Puss, puss, puss," called a voice.  "Come along, dears.  Your breakfast
+is ready."
+
+Mona stepped to the window and peeped out.  Mrs. Lane was standing with a
+saucer of bread and milk in each hand.  At the sound of her voice her two
+cats came racing up the garden, chattering as they went, and she gave them
+their meal out there in the sunshine.  As she turned to go back to the
+house she glanced up at Granny Barnes', and at the window where Mona
+stood.  Perhaps she had been attracted by the feeling that someone was
+looking at her, or she may have heard something of Mona's arrival the
+night before.
+
+For a second a look of surprise crossed her face, and a half-smile--then
+as quickly as it came it vanished, and a look of cold disapproval took its
+place.
+
+Mona felt snubbed and hurt.  It was dreadful to have sunk so low in
+anyone's opinion.  It was worse when it was in Mrs. Lane's, for they used
+to be such good friends, and Mrs. Lane was always so kind to her, and so
+patient, and, oh, how Mona had loved to go into her house to play with her
+kittens, or to listen to her stories, and look at the wonderful things
+Captain Lane had brought home with him from some of his voyages.
+
+Captain Lane, who had been a sailor in the Merchant Service, had been to
+all parts of the world, and had brought home something from most.
+
+Mona coloured hotly with the pain of the snub, and the reproof it
+conveyed.
+
+"I can't bear it," she thought.  "I can't bear it--I'll have to tell."
+
+She went down to the kitchen in a very troubled state of mind.
+Life seemed very sad and difficult just now.
+
+Granny was sitting by the fire, a few sticks in her hand.  "It's taken me
+all this time to get these," she said pathetically, "and now I can't stoop
+any more.  What time we shall get any breakfast I don't know, I'm sure,
+and I'm sinking for the want of something."
+
+"I'll get you a cup of tea soon.  I won't be any time."  It cheered her a
+little to have something to do, and she clutched at anything that helped
+her not to think.  She lighted the fire, swept the hearth up, and laid the
+cloth.  Then she went out to sweep the doorstep.  It was lovely outside in
+the sweet sunshine.  Mona felt she could have been so happy if only----
+While she was lingering over her task, Mrs. Lane came out to sweep her
+step and the tiled path, but this time she kept her head steadily turned
+away.
+
+"I'll go right in and tell granny now this minute," thought Mona, her lip
+quivering with pain.  "Then, perhaps, we'll all be friends again.
+I can't bear to live here like this."
+
+But when she turned into the kitchen the kettle was boiling, and her
+grandmother was measuring the tea into the pot.  "Get the loaf and the
+butter, child, I feel I can eat a bit of bread and butter this morning."
+
+Mona got them, and the milk, and some more coal to make up the fire, and
+all the time she was saying over and over to herself different beginnings
+of her confession.  She was so deeply absorbed in her thoughts that she
+did not notice the large slice of bread and butter that her grandmother
+had put on her plate.
+
+"Don't you want it?" Granny asked sharply.  "Why, how red you are, child!
+What have you been doing to make your colour like that.  You haven't
+broken anything, have you?"
+
+Her tone and her sharpness jarred on Mona cruelly, and put all her new
+resolutions to flight.  "No, I haven't," she said, sullenly.
+"There wasn't anything to break but the broom, and you saw me put that
+right away."
+
+Granny looked at her for a moment in silence.  "Your manners haven't
+improved since you went home," she said severely.  "If I'd spoken to my
+grandmother like that, I'd have been sent to bed."
+
+A new difficulty opened before Mona's troubled mind.  If she was rude, or
+idle, or disagreeable, the blame for it would fall upon Lucy, and that
+would be an injustice she could not bear.  Now that she had lost her she
+realised how good Lucy had been to her, and how much she loved her.
+For her sake, she would do all she could to control her temper and her
+tongue.
+
+She had coloured again--with indignation this time--hot words had sprung
+to her lips in defence of Lucy, but she closed them determinedly, and
+choked the words back again.  She felt that she could say nothing; she
+felt, too, that Lucy would not wish her to say anything.  She could not
+explain so as to make her granny understand that it was not Lucy's fault
+that she was rude and ill-tempered.  It was by acts, not words, that she
+could serve Lucy best.  And for her sake she _would_ try.  She would try
+her very hardest to control her temper and her tongue.  The determination
+brought some comfort to her poor troubled heart.  At any rate, she would
+be doing something that Lucy would be glad about.
+
+Her confession, though, remained unspoken.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Mona did try to be good, she tried hard, but she was very, very unhappy.
+She missed her home, she missed Lucy, and her father, and her freedom.
+She longed, too, with an intolerable longing, for the sight and the sound
+of the sea.  She had never, till now that she had lost them, realised how
+dearly she loved the quaint little steep and rambling village, with the
+sea at its foot, and the hills behind it.  She was always homesick.
+
+Perhaps if she had been sent to Hillside, and it had been her plain duty
+to live there, and nowhere else, she might have felt more happy and
+settled.  Or, if granny had been the same indulgent, sympathetic granny as
+of old, but she had placed herself where she was by her own foolish,
+unkind act, which she now bitterly repented; and she was there with a
+cloud resting on her character and motives.  She had shown herself
+ungrateful and unkind; she had played a coward's part, and had bitterly
+pained her father and Lucy.
+
+They did not reproach her--she would have felt better had they done so--
+but she knew.  And, after all, granny did not want her, or so it seemed!
+
+Mona did not realise that her grandmother was really seriously unwell,
+and that her irritability she could not help.  Mrs. Barnes did not know it
+herself.  Mona only realised that she was almost always cross,
+that nothing pleased her, that she never ran and fetched and carried,
+as she used to do, while Mona sat by the fire and read.  It was granny who
+sat by the fire now.  She did not read, though.  She said her eyes pained
+her, and her head ached too much.  She did not sew, either.  She just sat
+idly by the fire and moped and dozed, or roused herself to grumble at
+something or other.
+
+The day after she came to Hillside, Mona had written to her mother.
+She told her where she was, and why, and tried to say that she was sorry,
+but no reply had come, and this troubled her greatly.
+
+"Were they too angry with her to have anything more to say to her?
+Was Lucy ill?"
+
+Every day she went to meet the postman, her heart throbbing with eager
+anxiety, and day after day she went back disappointed.  If it had not been
+for very shame, she would have run away again and gone home, and have
+asked to be forgiven, but she could not make up her mind to do that.
+Probably they would not want her at home again, after all the trouble and
+expense she had been to them.  Perhaps her father might even send her back
+to Hillside again.  The shame of that would be unbearable!
+
+She was uncomfortable, too, as well as unhappy.  She wanted her clothes,
+her brush and comb, her books, and all her other belongings.  She had,
+after a fashion, settled into her old room again, but it seemed bare and
+unhomelike after her pretty one at Cliff Cottage.
+
+Then one day, after long waiting and longing, and hope and disappointment,
+her father came.  For a moment her heart had leaped with the glad wild
+hope that he had come to take her back with him.  Then the sight of the
+box and parcel he carried had dashed it down again.  He had brought her
+all her possessions.
+
+"Well, Mona," he said quietly, as she stood facing him, shy and
+embarrassed.  "So you prefer Hillside to Seacombe!  Well, it's always best
+to be where you're happiest, if you feel free to make your choice.
+For my own part, I couldn't live away from the sea, but tastes differ."
+
+"But--mine--don't differ," stammered Mona.  "I am not happier."  She was
+so overcome she could hardly speak above a whisper, and her father had
+already turned to Mrs. Barnes.
+
+"Well, mother," he cried, and poor Mona could not help noticing how much
+more kindly his voice sounded when he spoke to granny.  "How are you?
+You don't look first rate.  Don't 'ee feel up to the mark?"  He spoke
+lightly, but his eyes, as they studied the old woman's face, were full of
+surprise and concern.  Granny shook her head.  "No, I ain't well,"
+she said, dully.  "I'm very, very far from well.  I don't know what's the
+matter.  P'raps 'tis the weather."
+
+"The weather's grand.  It's bootiful enough to set everybody dancing,"
+said her son-in-law cheerfully, but still eyeing her with that same look
+of concern.
+
+"P'raps 'tis old age, then.  I'm getting on, of course.  It's only what I
+ought to expect; but I seem to feel old all of a sudden; everything's a
+burden to me.  I can't do my work as I used, and I can't walk, and I can't
+get used to doing nothing I'm ashamed for you to see the place as it is,
+Peter if I'd known you was coming I'd have made an effort----"
+
+"That's just why I didn't tell 'ee, mother.  I came unexpected on purpose,
+'cause I didn't want 'ee to be scrubbing the place from the chimney pots
+down to the rain-water barrel.  I know what you are, you see."
+
+Poor old Granny Barnes smiled, but Mona felt hurt.  She did her best to
+keep the house clean and tidy, and she thought it was looking as nice as
+nice could be.  "What I was, you mean," said granny.  "I don't seem to
+have the strength to scrub anything now-a-days."
+
+"Oh, well, there's no need for 'ee to.  You've got Mona to do that kind of
+thing for 'ee."
+
+Mona's heart sank even lower.  "Then he really had no thought of having
+her home again!"
+
+"I've brought your clothes, Mona," he said, turning again to her.
+"Lucy was troubled that they hadn't been sent before.  She thought you
+must be wanting them."
+
+"Thank you," said Mona, dully, and could think of nothing more to say,
+though she knew her father waited for an answer.
+
+"I've brought 'ee some fish, mother," picking up the basket.  "It come in
+last night.  I thought you might fancy a bit, and Lucy sent a bit of
+bacon, her own curing, and a jelly, or something of that sort."
+Granny's face brightened.  Though she had not approved of Mona's being
+given a stepmother, she appreciated Lucy's kindness, and when they
+presently sat down to dinner and she had some of the jelly, she
+appreciated it still more.  Her appetite had needed coaxing, but there had
+been nothing to coax it with.  "It tempts anyone to eat," she remarked,
+graciously.  "When one is out of sorts, one fancies something out of the
+common."
+
+"Lucy'll be rare and pleased to think you could take a bit," said Peter,
+delighted for Lucy's sake.
+
+"Yes, thank you.  She's made it very nice.  A trifle sour, perhaps, but I
+like things rather sharpish."
+
+"Mother," said Peter suddenly, "I wish you'd come to Seacombe to live.
+It'd be nice to have you near."  His eyes had been constantly wandering to
+his mother-in-law's face, and always with the same anxious look.
+The change in her since last he had seen her troubled him greatly.
+Her round cheeks had fallen in, her old rosiness had given place to a grey
+pallor.  She stooped very much and looked shrunken too.
+
+"Oh, granny, do!" cried Mona, eagerly.  It was almost the first time she
+had spoken, but the mere suggestion filled her with overwhelming joy and
+relief.
+
+"Then I could look in pretty often to see how you was, and bring you in a
+bit of fresh fish as often as you would care to have it.  Lucy would take
+a delight, too, in making 'ee that sort of thing," nodding towards the
+jelly, "or anything else you fancied.  We'd be at hand, too, to help 'ee
+if you wasn't very well."
+
+Granny Barnes was touched, and when she looked up there were tears in her
+eyes.  The prospect was tempting.  She had felt very forlorn and old, and
+helpless lately.  She had often felt too that she would like:
+
+    "A little petting
+        At life's setting."
+
+"It's good of you to think of it, Peter," she said, hesitatingly.
+Then, fearing that he might have spoken on the impulse of the moment,
+and that she was showing herself too anxious for his help and Lucy's,
+she drew herself up.  "But--well, this is _home_, and I don't fancy I
+could settle down in a strange place, and amongst strangers, at my time of
+life."
+
+"You'd be with those that are all you've got belonging to you in this
+world," said Peter.  But granny's mood had changed.  She would not listen
+to any more coaxing, and her son-in-law, seeming to understand her,
+changed the subject.
+
+Poor Mona, who did not understand so well, felt only vexed and impatient
+with the poor perverse old woman, for not falling in at once with a plan
+so delightful to herself.  Mona learned to understand as time went on,
+but she was too young yet.
+
+"But, granny, it would be ever so much nicer than this dull old place,
+and--and you'd have mother as well as me to look after you.  I like
+Seacombe ever so much better than Hillside.  Why won't you go, granny?"
+
+Peter Carne groaned.  Mona, by her tactlessness, was setting her
+grandmother dead against such a plan, and undoing all the good he had
+done.  Granny Barnes would never be driven into taking a step, but she
+would see things in her own time and in her own way, if she felt that no
+one was trying to force her.  He held up his hand for silence.
+
+"Your grandmother knows best what'll suit her.  It isn't what you like,
+it's what's best for her that we've all got to think about."
+
+But granny's anger had been roused.  "It may be a dull old place, but it's
+home," she said sharply.  "You can't understand what that means.
+You don't seem to have any particular feeling or you wouldn't be so ready
+to leave first one and then the other, without even a heartache.  I wonder
+sometimes, Mona, if you've got any heart.  Perhaps it's best that you
+shouldn't have; you're saved a lot of pain."  Granny began to whimper a
+little, to her son-in-law's great distress.  "Anyway, you were ready
+enough to run to the 'dull old place' when you were in trouble," she added, reproachfully, and Mona had no answer.
+
+She got up from the table, and, collecting the dishes together, carried
+them to the scullery.  "Oh, dear!" she sighed, irritably, "I seem to be
+always hurting somebody--and somebody's always hurting me.  I'd better go
+about with my mouth fastened up--even then I s'pose I'd be always doing
+something wrong.  People are easily offended, it's something dreadful."
+
+She felt very much aggrieved.  So much aggrieved that she gave only sullen
+words and looks, and never once enquired for Lucy, or sent her a message,
+or even hinted at being sorry for what she had done.
+
+"She didn't send any message to me," she muttered to herself, excusingly.
+"She never sent her love, or--or anything, so why should I send a message
+to her?"  She worked herself up into such a fine state of righteous anger
+that she almost persuaded herself that her behaviour had been all that it
+should be, and that she was the most misunderstood and ill-treated person
+in the whole wide world.
+
+In spite, though, of her being so perfect, she felt miserably unhappy,
+as she lay awake in the darkness, and thought over the day's happenings.
+She saw again her father's look of distress as she snapped at her
+grandmother, and answered him so sulkily.  She pictured him, too, walking
+away down the road towards home, without even a smile from her, and only a
+curt, sullen, good-bye!  Oh, how she wished now that she had run after him
+and kissed him, and begged him to forgive her.
+
+A big sob broke from her as she pictured him tramping those long lonely
+miles, his kind face so grave and pained, his heart so full of
+disappointment in her.
+
+"Oh how hateful he will think me--and I am, I am, and I can't tell him I
+don't really mean to be," and then her tears burst forth, and she cried,
+and cried until all the bitterness and selfishness were washed from her
+heart, and only gentler feelings were left.
+
+As she lay tired out, thinking over the past, and the future, a curious,
+long cry broke the stillness of the night.
+
+"The owl," she said to herself.  "I do wish he'd go away from here.
+He always frightens me with his miserable noise."  She snuggled more
+closely into her pillow, and drew the bedclothes up over her ear.
+"I'll try to go to sleep, then I shan't hear him."
+
+But, in spite of her efforts, the cry reached her again and again.
+"It can't be the owl," she said at last, sitting up in bed, the better to
+listen.  "It sounds more like a person!  Who can it be?"
+
+Again the cry came, "Mo--na!  Mo--o--na!"
+
+"Why, it's somebody calling me.  It must be granny!  Oh, dear!
+Whatever can be the matter, to make her call like that."
+
+Shaking all over with fear, she scrambled out of bed, and groped her way
+to the door.  As she opened it the cry reached her again.
+
+"Mo--na!"  This time there could be no doubt about it.  It came from her
+grandmother's room.
+
+"I'm coming!" she called loudly.  "All right, granny, I'm coming."
+She ran across the landing, guided by the lights shining through the
+chinks in her grandmother's door.
+
+"What's the matter?--are you feeling bad, granny?  Do you want something?"
+
+"Yes, I'm feeling very bad.  I'm ill, I'm very ill--oh, dear, oh dear,
+what shall I do?  Oh, I've no one to come and do anything for me.
+Oh, dear, oh what can I do?"  Granny's groans were dreadful.  Mona felt
+frightened and helpless.  She had not the least idea what to do or say.
+What did grown-ups do at times like this? she wondered.  She did not know
+where, or how, her grandmother suffered, and if she had she would not have
+known how to act.
+
+"Do you want me to fetch the doctor?  I'll go and put on my clothes.
+I won't be more than a minute or two, then I'll come back again----"
+
+"No--no, I can't be left alone all the time, I might die--here, alone;
+oh dear, oh dear, what a plight to be left in!  Not a living creature to
+come to me--but a child!  Oh, how bad I do feel!"
+
+"But I must do something, or call somebody," cried Mona desperately.
+She had never seen serious illness before, and she was frightened.
+Poor old Mrs. Barnes had always been a bad patient, and difficult to
+manage, even when her ailments were only trifling; now that she really
+felt ill, she had lost all control.
+
+"Granny," said Mona, growing desperate.  "I must get someone to come and
+help us, you must have the doctor, and I can't leave you alone, I am going
+to ask Mrs. Lane to come, I can't help it--I can't do anything else.
+I'll slip on my shoes and stockings, I won't be more than a minute."
+
+Granny Barnes stopped moaning, and raised herself on her elbow.
+"You'll do no such thing," she gasped.
+
+"But granny, I must--you must have help, and you must have somebody to go
+for the doctor, and--and, oh, granny, I'm afraid to be here alone,
+I don't know what to do, and you're looking so bad."
+
+"Am I?" nervously.  "Well--if I've got to die alone and helpless, I will,
+but I won't ask Mrs. Lane to come to me.  Do you think I'd--ask a favour
+of her, after all her unneighbourliness--not speaking to me for weeks and
+weeks----"
+
+Mona burst into tears, confession had to come.  "Granny," she said,
+dropping on her knees beside the bed.  "I--I've got to tell you
+something--Mrs. Lane was right----"
+
+"What!" Granny's face grew whiter, but she said no more.  If she had done
+so, if she had but spoken kindly and helped her ever so little, it would
+have made things much easier for poor Mona.
+
+"I--I--it was me that pulled the faggots down that night, and not Mrs.
+Lane's cats, and she won't look, or speak to me because I didn't tell,
+and I let her cats bear the blame.  I--I didn't mean to do any harm, I was
+in such a hurry to light up the fire, and the old things all rolled down,
+and I forgot to go out and pick them up again.  I didn't think you'd be
+going out there that night, but you went out, and--and fell over them.
+If you hadn't gone out it would have been all right, I'd have seen them in
+the morning and have picked them up."
+
+But Granny Barnes was not prepared to listen to excuses, she was very,
+very angry.  "And fine and foolish you've made me look all this time,
+Mona Carne, and risked my life too.  For bad as I was a little while back,
+I wouldn't bring myself to ask Mrs. Lane to come to me, nor Cap'en Lane to
+go and fetch the doctor, and--and if I'd died, well, you know who would
+have been to blame!"
+
+Granny's cheeks were crimson now, and she was panting with exhaustion.
+"Now what you've got to do is--to go in--and tell her the truth yourself."
+
+"I'm going," said Mona, the tears streaming down her face.  But as she
+hurried to the door, the sight of her, looking so childlike and forlorn in
+her nightgown, with her tumbled hair and tear-stained face, touched her
+grandmother's heart, and softened her anger.
+
+"Mona," she cried, "come back--never mind about it now, child----"
+But Mona was already in her own room tugging on her shoes and stockings.
+Granny heard her come out and make her way stumbling down the stairs;
+she tried to call again, but reaction had set in, and she lay panting,
+exhausted, unable to do anything but listen.  She heard Mona pulling back
+the heavy wooden bolt of the front door, then she heard her footsteps
+hurrying through the garden, growing more distant, then nearer as she went
+up Mrs. Lane's path.  Then came the noise of her knocking at Mrs. Lane's
+door, first gently, then louder, and louder still--and then the exhausted,
+over-excited old woman fainted, and knew no more.
+
+Mona, standing in the dark at Mrs. Lane's door, was trembling all over.
+Even her voice trembled.  When Mrs. Lane at last opened her window and
+called out "Who's there?" it shook so, she could not make herself heard
+until she had spoken three times.
+
+"It's me--Mona Carne.  Oh, Mrs. Lane, I'm so frightened!  Granny's very
+ill, please will you--come in?--I--I don't know what to do for her."
+
+"Mona Carne!  Oh!" Mona heard the surprise in Mrs. Lane's voice,
+and feared she was going to refuse her.  Then "Wait a minute," she said,
+"I'll come down."
+
+Mona's tears stopped, but she still trembled.  Help was coming to granny--
+but she still had her confession to make, and it seemed such an awful
+ordeal to face.  All the time she stood waiting there under the stars,
+with the scent of the flowers about her, she was wondering desperately how
+she could begin, what she could say, and how excuse herself.
+
+She was still absorbed, and still had not come to any decision, when the
+door behind her opened, and a voice said kindly, "Come inside, Mona, and
+tell me what is the matter," and Mona stepped from the starlit night into
+the warm, dimly lighted kitchen, and found herself face to face with her
+old kind friend.
+
+"Now, tell me all about it," said Mrs. Lane again catching sight of Mona's
+frightened, disfigured face.  "Why, how you are trembling, child, have you
+had a shock?  Were you in bed?"
+
+Mona nodded.  "Yes, I'd been in bed a good while when I heard a cry,
+such a funny kind of cry!  At first I thought it must be the owl, but when
+I heard it again and again I thought it must be granny, and I got up and
+went to her.  And, oh, I was frightened, she was lying all crumpled up in
+the bed, and she was groaning something dreadful.  She was very ill, she
+said, and she must have the doctor--but she wouldn't let me go to fetch
+him, 'cause she was afraid to be left alone.  I was frightened to be there
+by myself, and I didn't know what to do for her and I said I'd run in and
+ask you to come--but she said she'd rather die--she said I mustn't
+because--because--oh you know," gasped Mona, breathless after her
+outpouring of words, "and--and then--I--told her--about--about that--that
+'twas me pulled down the faggots, and you were right, and she looked--oh
+she looked dreadful, she was so angry!  And then I came in to tell you;
+and, oh Mrs. Lane, I am so sorry I behaved so, I--I never meant to,
+I never meant Tom and Daisy to have the blame.  And, please Mrs. Lane,
+will you forgive me, and speak to me again?  I've been so--so mis'rubble,
+and I didn't know how to set things right again."  But here Mona's voice
+failed her altogether, and, worn out with the day's events, and the
+night's alarm, and all the agitation and trouble both had brought,
+she broke down completely.  Mrs. Lane was quite distressed by the violence
+of her sobs.
+
+"There, there, don't cry so, child, and don't worry any more," she said
+gently, putting her arm affectionately round Mona's shaking shoulders,
+"It's all over now! and we are all going to be as happy and friendly again
+as ever we used to be.  Mona, dear, I am so glad, so thankful that you
+have spoken.  It hurt me to think that I had been deceived in you,
+but I know now that you were my own little Mona all the time.  There,
+dear, don't cry any more; we must think about poor granny.  Come along,
+we will see what we can do to help her."
+
+They stepped out into the starlit night, hand in hand, and though her
+grandmother's illness filled Mona with anxiety, she felt as though a heavy
+care had been lifted from her heart, a meanness from her soul; and, as she
+hurried through the scented gardens, she lifted up her face to the starry
+sky, and her heart to the God who looked down on her through Heaven's
+eyes.
+
+In the house, when they reached it, all was as she had left it, except
+that now a deep, deep silence reigned; a silence that, somehow, struck a
+chill to both hearts.
+
+"How quiet it is!  She was making such a noise before," Mona whispered,
+hesitating nervously at the foot of the stairs.
+
+"I expect she has fallen asleep, I'll go up first and see; you light the
+lamp in the kitchen, and bring me up a glass of cold water.  Or would you
+rather come with me?"
+
+"I--I will come with you."  She could not rid herself of the feeling that
+her granny was dead--had died angry with her, at the last.  She felt sure
+of it, too, when she saw her lying so still and white on her pillow.
+
+Mrs. Lane placed her hand over the tired, faintly-beating heart.
+"She is only faint," she said assuringly, a note of intense relief in her
+voice.  "She is coming round.  Run and fetch me some water, dear,
+and open that window as you pass."
+
+So granny, when she presently opened her eyes and looked about her,
+found Mona on one side of her and her old friend on the other; and both
+were looking at her with tender anxious eyes, and faces full of gladness
+at her recovery.
+
+The old feud was as dead as though it had never existed.
+
+"It's like going to sleep in a world of worries and waking up in a new
+one."  The poor old soul sighed contentedly, as she lay with the stars
+looking in on her, and the scent of the flowers wafting up to her through
+the open window.  "It was too bad, though, to be calling you up in the
+night--out of your bed.  I'm very much obliged to you, Mrs. Lane,
+I--I'm very glad to see you."
+
+"Not as glad as I am to come, I reckon," her neighbour smiled back at her,
+"we are all going to start afresh again from to-day, ain't we?  So it's as
+well to begin the day early, and make it as long as we can!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+Granny was much better, and was downstairs again, but she was weak and
+very helpless still.  She was sad too, and depressed.  The last few weeks
+had shaken her confidence in herself, her spirit was strong enough still,
+but more than once lately her body had failed her.  When, in her old way,
+she had said that she would do this, or that, or the other thing, she had
+found out after all, that she could not.  Her body had absolutely refused
+to obey her.
+
+"I ain't dependent on other folks yet!" she had said sharply, and had
+afterwards found out that she was, and the discovery alarmed her.
+It saddened her, and broke her spirit.
+
+"I ought to be in a home.  I'd rather be in one, or--or be dead, than be a
+burden on other folks," she moaned.
+
+Granny was very hard to live with in those days.  Even a grown-up would
+have found it difficult to know what to say in answer to her complainings.
+
+"Granny, don't talk like that!" Mona would plead, and she would work
+harder than ever that there might be nothing for granny to do, or to find
+fault with.  But however hard she worked, and however nice she kept
+things, she always found that there were still some things left undone,
+and that those were the very things that, in granny's opinion, mattered
+most.
+
+As for reading, or play-time, Mona never found any for either now, and oh,
+how often and how longingly her thoughts turned to the Quay, and to the
+rocks, and the games that were going on there evening after evening!
+Sometimes it almost seemed that she could hear the laughter and the calls,
+the voice of the sea, the rattle of the oars in the rowlocks, the cries of
+the gulls, and then she would feel as though she could not bear to be away
+from them all another moment.  That she must race back to them then and
+there; never, never to leave them any more!
+
+The loneliness, and the hard work, and the confinement to the house told
+on her.  She became thin, the colour died out of her cheeks, and the
+gladness from her eyes, and all the life and joyousness seemed to go out
+of her.  She grew, and grew rapidly, but she stooped so much she did not
+look as tall as she really was.
+
+Granny Barnes, looking at her sweeping out the path one day, had her eyes
+suddenly opened, and the revelation startled her.  She did not say
+anything to Mona, she just watched her carefully, but she did not again
+blame her for laziness; and while she watched her, her thoughts travelled
+backwards.  A year ago Mona had been noisy, lively, careless, but
+cheerful, always full of some new idea.  She had been round and rosy too,
+and full of mischief.  Now she was listless, quiet, and apparently
+interested in nothing.
+
+"Have you got a headache, Mona?"
+
+"No," said Mona indifferently, "I don't think so."
+
+"Is your back aching?"
+
+"It always is."
+
+"Then why didn't you say so, child?"
+
+"What's the good?  The work has to be done."
+
+"If you're bad you must leave it undone.  You can't go making yourself
+ill."
+
+"I ain't ill, and I'd sooner do the work.  There's nothing else to do."
+
+"Can't you read sometimes?  You used to be so fond of reading."
+
+"If I read I forget to do things, and then----"  She was going to say
+"there's a row," but she stopped herself just in time.  "I've read all my
+books till I know them by heart nearly."  Even while she spoke she was
+getting out the ironing cloth, and spreading it on the table.
+The irons were already hot on the stove.
+
+Granny Barnes did not say any more, but sat for a long time gazing into
+the fire, apparently deep in thought.  Mona looking up presently,
+attracted by the silence, was struck by her weary, drooping look, by the
+sadness of the tired old eyes.  But she did not say anything.
+Presently granny roused herself and looked up.  "Put away your ironing,
+child," she said kindly, "and go out and have a game of play.  The air
+will do you good."
+
+"I don't want to go out, granny.  There's no one to play with--and I'm
+afraid to leave you; what could you do if you were to faint again?"
+
+Granny sighed.  The child was right.  "I--I could knock in to Mrs. Lane,
+perhaps," she said, but there was doubt in her voice, and she did not
+press Mona any further.
+
+Mona went on with her ironing, and granny went on staring into the fire,
+and neither spoke again for some time.  Not until Mona, going over to take
+up a fresh hot iron, saw something bright shining on her grandmother's
+cheek, then fall on to her hand.
+
+"Are you feeling bad again, granny?" she asked anxiously.  The sight of
+the tear touched her, and brought a note of sympathy into her voice, and
+the sympathy in her voice in turn touched her granny, and drew both
+together.
+
+"No--I don't know that I'm feeling worse than usual, but--but, well I feel
+that it'd be a good thing if my time was ended.  I'm only a trouble and a
+burden now--no more help for anybody."
+
+"Granny! Granny!  You mustn't say such things!"  Mona dropped her iron
+back on the stove again, and threw herself on the floor beside her
+grandmother.  "You mustn't talk like that!  You're weak, that's all.
+You want to rest for a bit and have some tonics.  Mrs. Lane says so."
+
+"Does she?  I seem to want something," leaning her weary head against
+Mona's, "but it's more than tonics--it's a new body that I'm needing,
+I reckon.  I daresay it's only foolishness, but sometimes I feel like a
+little child, I want to be took care of, and someone to make much of me,
+and say like mother used to, 'Now leave everything to me.  I'll see to it
+all!'  It seems to me one wants a bit of petting when one comes to the end
+of one's life, as much as one does at the beginning--I don't know but what
+a little is good for one at any age."
+
+Mona slipped down till she sat on the floor at her granny's feet, her head
+resting against granny's knee.  "I think so too," she said wistfully.
+Silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire within
+and the buzz of insects, and the calling of the birds, outside in the
+garden.
+
+"Mona, how would you like it if we went into Seacombe to live?"
+
+Mona was up in a moment, her face alight with eagerness, but some instinct
+stopped her from expressing too much delight.  In the softened feeling
+which had crept into her heart, she realised that to her grandmother the
+move would mean a great wrench.
+
+"She must love Hillside as much, or _nearly_ as much as I love Seacombe,"
+she told herself.  Aloud she said, "I'd like it, but you wouldn't, would
+you, granny?"
+
+"I think I would.  I'd like to be nearer your father, and--and you would
+be happy there, and perhaps you'd feel stronger.  I'm getting to feel,"
+she added after a little pause, "that one can be happy anywhere, if those
+about one are happy.  Or, to put it another way, one can't be happy
+anywhere if those about one ain't happy."
+
+Mona felt very guilty.  "Granny," she said, but in rather a choky voice,
+"I'll be happy here, if you'd rather stay here--I will really.  I do love
+Hillside--it's only the sea I miss, and the fun, and--and the excitement
+when the boats come in--but I shall forget all about it soon, and I'll be
+happy here too, if you'd like to stay."
+
+She did try to put aside her own feelings, and speak cheerfully, and she
+succeeded--but, to her surprise, her grandmother did not jump at her
+offer.
+
+"No, child, I wouldn't rather stay.  I'd like to go.  I feel I want to be
+near my own, and your father and you are all I've got.  I think I'll ask
+him if he can find a little house that'll suit us."
+
+"Won't you live with us, granny? You can have my room."
+
+But granny would not hear of that.  "I've always had a home of my own, and
+I couldn't live in anybody else's," she said decisively.  "Your
+stepmother's too much of an invalid herself too, to be able to look after
+another."
+
+"Then you'd want me to live with you?" asked Mona, with a little break in
+her voice.  She was disappointed, but she tried not to show it.
+
+"Yes, dearie," her eyes scanning Mona's face wistfully, "wouldn't you like
+that?"
+
+Mona hesitated for only a second, then "Yes, granny, I should," she said,
+and then as the idea became more familiar, she said more heartily,
+"Yes, I'd love to, and oh, granny, if we could only get one of the little
+houses down by the Quay it would be lovely!  I'm sure you'd like it----"
+
+"I couldn't live down by the Quay," granny interrupted sharply,
+"I wouldn't live there if a house was given me rent free.  It is too
+noisy, for one thing, and you feel every breath of wind that blows."
+
+"But you're close, when the boats come in----"
+
+"Aye, and when they don't come in," said granny.  "I ain't so fond of the
+sea as you are, and I should never know any rest of mind down close by it.
+Every time the wind blew I'd be terrified."
+
+Mona looked vexed.  "It isn't often that there's any place at all to let,"
+she said crossly.  "If we don't take what we can get, we shall never go at
+all."
+
+But Granny Barnes was not alarmed.  "Don't you trouble yourself about
+that.  Your father'll find us something for certain.  He'd got his eye on
+a little place when he was here, he wanted me to take it then.  I almost
+wish I had, now.  Never mind, I'll write to him to-night or to-morrow.
+If I was well I would go in by John Darbie's van and have a look about for
+myself."
+
+All this sounded so much like business, that Mona sat up, all her glumness
+falling from her.  When Granny Barnes once made up her mind to do a thing,
+she did not let the grass grow under her feet.  There was, after all, much
+of Mona's nature in her, and when once she had made up her mind to leave
+her old home, it almost seemed as though she could not get away quickly
+enough.
+
+Perhaps it was that she felt her courage might fail her if she gave
+herself much time to think about things.  Perhaps she felt she could not
+face the pain and the worry if she gave herself time to worry much.
+ Or, it may have been that she really did feel anxious about Mona's health
+and her own, and wanted to be settled in Seacombe as soon as possible.
+
+At any rate she so managed that within a fortnight all her belongings were
+mounted on to two of Mr. Dodd's waggons and were carried off to the new
+home, while she and Mona followed in John Darbie's van, seen off by Mrs.
+Lane.  Mrs. Lane was very tearful and sad at parting with them.
+
+"I know it's for the best for both of you--but I feel as if I can't bear
+the sight nor the thought of the empty home."  Then she kissed them both,
+and stood in the road in the sunshine, waving her hand to them till they
+were out of sight.
+
+"Wave your handkerchief to her, Mona; blow another kiss to her, child."
+But granny kept her own head turned away, and her eyes fixed on the bit of
+white dusty road which lay ahead of them.  Neither could she bear the
+sight of the empty house, nor of the neighbour she was leaving.
+
+Mona's eyes were full of tears, but granny's were dry, though her sorrow
+was much deeper than Mona's.  John Darbie tactfully kept his tongue quiet,
+and his eyes fixed on the scenery.  He understood that his old friend was
+suffering, and would want to be left alone for a while.  So, for the first
+part of the way, they jogged along in silence, except for the scrunching
+of the gravel beneath the wheels, and the steady thud, thud of the old
+horse's hoofs, Granny Barnes looking forward with sad stern eyes, and a
+heart full of dread; Mona looking back through tears, but with hope in her
+heart; the old driver staring thoughtfully before him at the familiar way,
+along which he had driven so many, old and young; happy and sad, some
+willing, some unwilling, some hopeful, others despondent.  The old man
+felt for each and all of them, and helped them on their way, as far as he
+might travel it with them, and sent many a kind thought after them, which
+they never knew of.
+
+"I suppose," he said at last, speaking his thoughts aloud, "in every
+change we can find some happiness.  There's always something we can do for
+somebody.  So far as I can see, there's good to be got out of most
+things."
+
+Mrs. Barnes' gaze came back from the wide-stretching scene beside her, and
+rested enquiringly on the old speaker.  "Do 'ee think so?" she asked
+eagerly.  "'Tis dreadful to be filled with doubts about what you're
+doing," she added pathetically.
+
+"Don't 'ee doubt, ma'am.  Once you've weighed the matter and looked at it
+every way, and have at last made up your mind, don't you let yourself
+harbour any doubts.  Act as if you hadn't got any choice, and go straight
+ahead."
+
+"But how is anyone to know?  It may be that one took the way 'cause it was
+the easiest."
+
+"Very often it's the easiest way 'cause it's the way the Lord has opened
+for us," said the old man simply, and with perfect faith.  "Then I count
+it we're doubting Him if we go on questioning."
+
+The look of strained anxiety in Granny Barnes' eyes had already given way
+to one more peaceful and contented.
+
+"I hadn't thought of that," she said softly, and presently she added, "It
+takes a load off one's mind if one looks at it that way."
+
+Mona, who had been listening too, found John Darbie's words repeating
+themselves over and over again in her mind.  "There's always something we
+can do--there's good to be got out of most things."  They set themselves
+to the rhythm of the old horse's slow steps--"There is always something--
+there is always something--we can do--we can do, there is always something
+we can do."
+
+Throughout that long, slow journey on that sunshiny day they rang in her
+head, and her heart chanted them.  And though in the years that followed
+she often forgot her good resolutions, and many and many a time did wrong
+and foolish things, knowing them to be wrong and foolish, though she let
+herself be swayed by her moods, when she should have fought against them,
+she never entirely forgot old John Darbie's simple, comforting words, nor
+the lesson they had taught her that day, and unconsciously they helped her
+on her life's road, just as he himself helped her along her road to her
+new home.
+
+There was indeed a great deal that she could do, as she discovered
+presently, when the van deposited them and their parcels at the door of
+their new home, for the furniture had arrived but a couple of hours
+earlier, and though her father and the man had lifted most of the heavier
+things into their places, and Lucy had done all that she could to make the
+little house look habitable, there was much that Mona, knowing her
+grandmother's ways as well as she did, could do better than anyone else.
+
+As soon as the van drew near, Lucy was at the door to greet them, and in
+the warmth and pleasure of her welcome, Mona entirely forgot the
+circumstances under which they had last parted: and it never once occurred
+to her to think how different their meeting might have been had Lucy not
+been of the sweet-tempered forgiving nature that she was.
+
+Lucy had forgotten too.  She only remembered how glad she was to have them
+there, and what a trying day it must have been for poor old Granny Barnes.
+And when, instead of the stern, cold, complaining old woman that she had
+expected, she saw a fragile, pale-faced little figure, standing looking
+forlorn, weary, and half-frightened on the path outside her new home,
+Lucy quite forgot her dread of her, and her whole heart went out in
+sympathy.
+
+Putting her arms round her, she kissed her as warmly as though it had been
+her own mother, and led her tenderly into the house.
+
+"Don't you trouble about a single thing more, granny, there are plenty of
+us to see to everything.  The fire is burning, and your own armchair is
+put by it, and all you've got to do is to sit there till you're rested and
+tell us others what you'd like done."
+
+Granny Barnes did not speak, but Lucy understood.  She took up the poker
+and stirred the coals to a more cheerful blaze.  "It's a fine little stove
+to burn," she said cheerfully, "and it is as easy as possible to light."
+
+Granny was interested at once, "Is it?  How beautiful and bright it is.
+Did you do that, Lucy?"
+
+Lucy nodded.  "I love polishing up a stove," she said with a smile,
+"it repays you so for the trouble you take.  Don't you think so?"
+
+"Yes, I used to spend hours over mine, but I don't seem to have the
+strength now.  Mona does very well though.  Where's Peter?  Out fishing?"
+
+"No, he's upstairs putting up your bed.  He has nearly done.  Mona's is up
+already.  You've got a sweet little room, Mona.  You'll love it, I know."
+
+Mona ran upstairs at once to inspect.  She was bubbling over with
+excitement and happiness.  Her room was, she knew, at the back of the
+house, so she went to it straight.  It was in a great muddle, of course,
+but the bed was in place, and the chest of drawers.  The walls had been
+newly papered, the paper had little bunches of field daisies all over it,
+white and red-tipped, each bunch was tied with a blade of green grass.
+Mona thought it perfectly exquisite, but it was the window which took her
+fancy captive.  It was a lattice window, cut deep in the wall, and before
+it was a seat wide enough for Mona to sit in--and beyond the window was
+the sea!
+
+"I'll be able to sit there, and read, and sew, and watch the boats going
+by," she thought delightedly, "and I'll have little muslin curtains tied
+back with ribbons, and a flounce of muslin across the top.  Oh, I shall
+love it up here!  I shall never want to go out.  It's nicer even than my
+room at father's, and ever so much nicer than the 'Hillside' one!"
+
+A sound of hammering and banging came from the other side of the tiny
+landing.
+
+"That must be father, putting up granny's bed," she hurried out, and
+across to him.  He had just finished, and was pushing the bed into place.
+Two great bundles tied up in sheets filled up most of the rest of the
+floor.  One held Granny Barnes' feather-tie, the other her pillow-cases,
+sheets and blankets.
+
+"I do hope your grandmother'll be well and comfortable here," he said
+anxiously, "and happy.  If it rests with us to make her so, she shall be.
+Mona, you'd better make up her bed soon.  Don't leave it for her to do
+herself.  She'll most likely be glad to go to bed early to-night, she must
+be tired.  There's no moving round the room, either, with those great
+bundles there.  I'll lift the feather-tie on to the bed for you."
+
+"All right--in a minute, father."
+
+Granny's bedroom window looked out on the hill.  Further up the hill, on
+the opposite side, was Cliff Cottage.  It could be just seen from granny's
+new home.  How small and strange it all looked, thought Mona, and how
+narrow the hill was, but how homelike and beautiful.
+
+While she gazed out Millie Higgins and Philippa Luxmore appeared, they
+were coming down the hill together.  Millie had on a pink dress almost
+exactly like Mona's.
+
+"Why--why, she's copied me!" thought Mona indignantly, a wave of hot anger
+surging up in her heart.  "She's a regular copy-cat!  She can't think of a
+thing for herself, but directly anyone else has it, she must go and copy
+them.  I'd be ashamed if I was her.  Now I shan't like my pink frock any
+more!"
+
+As though attracted by the gaze on her, Millie looked up at the window,
+and straight into Mona's eyes, but instead of feeling any shame, she only
+laughed.  She may not have remembered her own frock, or Mona's, she was
+probably not laughing at Mona's annoyance, it is very likely that she was
+amused at something she and Philippa were talking about, but Mona thought
+otherwise, and only glared back at her with angry, contemptuous eyes.
+She saw Millie's face change, and saw her whisper in Philippa's ear,
+then she heard them both laugh, and her heart was fuller than ever of
+hatred, and mortification.  Mortification with herself partly, for
+allowing Millie to see that she was vexed.
+
+Oh, how she wished now, that instead of letting Millie see how she had
+annoyed her, she had acted as though she did not notice, or did not mind.
+
+"Mona, give me a hand here a minute, will you?"  Her father's voice broke
+in on her musings, "that rope is caught round the bedpost."
+
+Mona went over, and released the rope, but returned again to the window.
+
+"If you don't bustle round, little maid, we shall never be done," said her
+father.  "I want to get it all as right as I can before I go, or your
+grand-mother'll be doing it herself, and making herself ill again.
+You can look out of window another day, there'll be plenty of time for
+that."
+
+"I'm tired," grumbled Mona sulkily, "I can't be always working."
+
+Her father straightened his back, and looked at her.  His eyes were
+reproachful and grieved.  Mona's own eyes fell before them.  Already she
+was sorry that she had spoken so.  She did not feel in the least as she
+had said she did.  She was put out about Millie, and Millie's frock, that
+was all.
+
+"Mona, my girl," he said gravely, "you put me in mind of a weather-cock in
+a shifty wind.  Nobody can tell for half an hour together what quarter
+it'll be pointing to.  'Tis the shifty wind that does the most mischief
+and is hardest to bear with.  When you came in just now, I'd have said you
+were pointing straight south, but a few minutes later you've veered right
+round to the north-east.  What's the meaning of it, child?  What's the
+matter with 'ee.  It doesn't give 'ee much pleasure to know you're
+spoiling everybody else's, does it?"
+
+Mona gulped down her tears.  "No--o, I--I--it was Millie Higgins' fault.
+She's been and got a dress----"  And then she suddenly felt ashamed of
+herself, and ashamed to repeat anything so petty, and she gulped again,
+and this time she swallowed her bad temper too.  "No--I'm--I'm 'set fair'
+now, father!" she added, and, though there was a choke in her voice,
+as though her temper was rather hard to swallow, there was a smile in her
+eyes, and in a very little while granny's feather-bed was shaken up as
+soft and smooth as ever granny herself could have made it, and the bed was
+made up.  And then by degrees everything in the room was got into place
+just as its mistress liked it, so that when granny came up later on and
+saw her new room, she exclaimed aloud in pleased surprise:
+
+"Why, it looks like home already," she cried, "and that's our Mona's
+doing, I know!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Mona sat reading, curled upon the window seat in her bedroom.  She spent a
+great deal of her time there.  Sometimes sewing, but more often either
+reading, or looking out at the view.  For a few days she had been busy
+making curtains for her window, and a frill to go across the top, and,
+as granny had firmly refused to buy wide pink ribbon to fasten back the
+curtains, Mona had hemmed long strips of some of the print left over from
+her own pink dress.
+
+But all this was done now, and Mona was very proud of her handiwork.
+The frill was a little deeper on one side than the other, but that was a
+trifle.  Mona thought that the whole effect was very smart; so smart,
+indeed, that she sometimes wished that her window was in the front of the
+house, so that people going up and down the hill might see it.
+"But I s'pose one can't have everything," she concluded, with a sigh.
+
+Granny's window, which did look out on the hill, was anything but smart,
+for she had had neither time nor strength to make her curtains, and Mona
+had not offered to make them for her.
+
+Granny had gone up to Lucy's that very afternoon, and taken them with her,
+hoping to work at them a little while she talked.  She often went up to
+sit with Lucy.  Perhaps she found it dull at home, with Mona always shut
+up in her own room.  Lucy's garden delighted her too.  She had none
+herself that could compare with it.  In the front there was a tiny patch
+close under her window, and there was a long strip at the back, but only a
+very few things had the courage to grow there, for the wind caught it, and
+the salt sea-spray came up over it, and blighted every speck of green that
+had the courage to put its head out.  Lucy's garden and Lucy's kitchen
+both delighted her.  She said the kitchen was more cheerful than hers,
+but it was really Lucy's presence that made it so.  Lucy was always so
+pleased to see her, so ready to listen to her stories, or to tell her own,
+if granny was too tired to talk.  She always listened to her advice, too,
+which was quite a new experience to Mrs. Barnes.
+
+This afternoon, while granny was talking, and taking a stitch
+occasionally, Lucy picked up the other curtain and made it.  It was not a
+very big matter; all the windows in Seacombe houses were small.  Then she
+put on the kettle, and while it was boiling she took the other curtain
+from granny's frail hand and worked away at that too.  The weather was
+hot, and the door stood wide open, letting in the mingled scents of the
+many sweet flowers which filled every foot of the garden.  A sweet-brier
+bush stood near the window, great clumps of stocks, mignonette and
+verbenas lined the path to the gate.
+
+"I didn't mean to stay to tea," said granny, realizing at last that Lucy
+was preparing some for her.  "I was going to get home in time."
+
+"Mona won't have got it, will she?"
+
+"Oh, no, she won't think about it, I expect.  She has got a book, and when
+she's reading she's lost to everything.  I never knew a child so fond of
+reading."
+
+"You spoil her, granny!  You let her have her own way too much."
+
+Then they both laughed, for each accused the other of 'spoiling' Mona.
+
+"I don't like her to work too hard," said granny.  "She'd got to look very
+thin and delicate.  I think she's looking better, though, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, ever so much," Lucy reassured her, and granny's face brightened.
+
+Mona, meanwhile, went on reading, lost, as granny said, to everything but
+her book.  She did not even look out to sea.  She heard no sound either in
+the house or out.  Heart and mind she was with the people of the story.
+She was living their life.
+
+The baker came and knocked two or three times; then, opening the door,
+put a loaf on the table, and went away.  Then presently came more
+knocking, and more, but none of it reached Mona's brain.  She was flying
+with the heroine, and enjoying hairbreadth escapes, while running away
+from her wicked guardian, when her bedroom door was flung open, and Millie
+Higgins--not the wicked guardian--appeared on the threshold.
+
+Mona gave a little cry of alarm, then immediately grew angry with herself
+for having let Millie see that she had startled her.
+
+"What are you doing up here?" she demanded, bluntly.  "Who told you to
+come up? Granny isn't in, is she?"
+
+Millie laughed.  "If your grandmother had been in I should have been at
+the other end of the street by this time.  I've no fancy for facing
+dragons in their caves."
+
+"Don't be rude," retorted Mona, colouring with anger.  Millie always
+laughed at Mrs. Barnes, because she was old-fashioned in her dress and
+ways.  "How did you get in, and why did you come?  If granny didn't send
+you up, you'd no right to come.  It's like your cheek, Millie Higgins, to
+go forcing your way into other people's houses!"
+
+"It's like your carelessness to shut yourself up with a story-book and
+leave your front door open.  I ain't the first that has been in!
+Wouldn't your grandmother be pleased if she knew how trustworthy her dear,
+good little Mona was."
+
+Mona looked frightened, and Millie noticed it.  "What do you mean,
+Millie?"
+
+Millie had seen the baker come, knock, open the door, and leave again
+after depositing a loaf on the table.  She had also seen Mrs. Barnes
+comfortably settled in Lucy Carne's kitchen, and she determined to have
+some fun.  She loved teasing and annoying everyone she could.
+
+"Come down and see what they've done.  At any rate, you might be civil to
+anyone who comes in to warn you before any more harm is done."
+
+Mona, still looking alarmed, slipped from the window-seat and followed
+Millie down the stairs.
+
+While she stood at the foot of them, glancing about her anxiously, Millie
+stepped over and shut the house door.
+
+"Where?--What?--I don't see anything wrong," said Mona.  Millie burst into
+mocking laughter.  "I don't suppose you do!  Silly-billy, cock-a-dilly,
+how's your mother, little Mona! Why, how stupid you are! Anyone can get a
+rise out of you! I only wanted to frighten you and get you downstairs.
+You're going to ask me to tea now, and give me a nice one, too, aren't
+you?"
+
+Mona was trembling with mortification and anger.  "No, I am not," she
+said, "and if you don't go out of here in a minute I'll--I'll----"
+
+"Oh, no--you won't, dear.  You couldn't if you wanted to--but you don't
+really want to, I know.  Now poke up the fire and get me some tea.
+I hope you have something nice to eat."
+
+Mona stood by the dressers, her thoughts flying wildly through her brain.
+What could she do?  Millie was taller, older, and stronger than herself,
+so she could not seize her, and put her out by force.  Mona knew, too,
+that she would not listen to pleading or to coaxing.
+
+"Oh, if only someone would come!"  She made a move towards the door, but
+Millie was too quick for her, and got between her and it.
+
+"Millie, you've got to go away.  You'll get me into an awful row if you
+are found here, and--and I can't think how you can push yourself in where
+you ain't wanted."
+
+"Oh, fie!  Little girls shouldn't be rude--it shows they haven't been
+properly brought up."
+
+Mona did not answer.  She was trying to think what she could do.  If she
+went out of the house would Millie follow?
+
+Millie picked up a newspaper, and pretended to read it, but over the top
+of it she was watching Mona all the time.  She loved teasing, and she
+thought she had power to make younger girls do just as she wished.
+But Mona stood leaning against the dressers, showing no sign of giving in.
+
+Millie grew impatient.  "Wake up, can't you!" she cried, and, picking up a
+cushion from an armchair beside her, she threw it across the room at Mona.
+"I want my tea!"
+
+The cushion flew past Mona without touching her, but it fell full crash
+against the china on the dressers behind her.  Mona screamed, and tried to
+catch what she could of the falling things.  Cups, plate, jugs came
+rolling down on the top of those below.  What could one pair of small
+hands do to save them!
+
+The set, a tea-set, and her grandmother's most treasured possession, had
+been kept for a hundred years without a chip or a crack.  It had been her
+grandmother's and her great-grandmother's before that.
+
+Mona, white to the lips, and trembling, stood like an image of despair.
+Her hands were cut, but she did not notice that.  Millie was pale, too,
+and really frightened, though she tried to brazen it out.  "Now there'll
+be a fine old row, and you will be in it, Mona Carne.  It was all your
+fault, you know."
+
+But Mona felt no fear for herself yet.  She could think of nothing but her
+grandmother's grief when she learned of the calamity which had befallen
+her.  Somebody had to break the news to her, too, and that somebody would
+have to be herself.  Mona leaned her elbows on the dressers amongst the
+broken china and, burying her face in her hands, burst into a torrent of
+tears.
+
+Millie spoke to her once or twice, but Mona could not reply.  "Well, if
+she won't open her lips, I might as well go," thought Millie, and,
+creeping out of the front door, she hurried away down the hill, only too
+delighted to have got away so easily.
+
+Mona heard her go, but made no effort to stop her.  She felt too utterly
+miserable even to reproach her.
+
+Presently other footsteps came to the door, followed by a gentle knocking.
+Mona, in consternation, straightened herself and wiped her eyes.
+"Who can it be?  I can't go to the door like this!"  Her face was crimson,
+and her eyes were nearly closed, they were so swelled.
+
+The knock was repeated.  "Mona, may I come in?"  It was Patty Row's voice.
+Mona was fond of Patty, and she had begun to long for sympathy and advice.
+
+"Cub id," she called out as well as she could.  "Cub id, Paddy."
+Patty opened the door.  "What a dreadful cold you've got," she said,
+sympathetically.  "I've just seen your grandmother, and she asked me to
+tell you she's having tea with Lucy."  Mona turned and faced her.
+
+"Why!--Why! Mona!  Oh, my!  Whatever is the matter?"
+
+Mona's tears began again, nearly preventing her explanation.
+"Millie Higgins came in, and--and got teasing me, and--and----"
+
+"I've just seen her hurrying home," cried Patty.  "I thought she came out
+from here.  What has she done, Mona?  She's always bullying somebody."
+
+"She--she threw the cushion at me, 'cause--'cause I didn't get her some
+tea, and--oh, Patty, what shall I do?--just look at what she has done.
+That tea-set was more than a hundred years old, and--and granny thinks the
+world of it--and I've got to tell her."  Mona's voice rose to a pitiful
+wail.  "Oh, my.  I wish--I wish I was dead.  I wish----"
+
+"That'd only be another great trouble for her to bear," said wise little
+Patty, soberly.  "Millie ought to tell her, of course.  It's her doing.
+P'raps that is where she has gone."
+
+Mona shook her head.  She had no hope of Millie's doing that.
+
+"Well," said Patty, in her determined little way, "if she doesn't it
+shan't be for want of being told that she ought to."
+
+"She'll never do it," said Mona, hopelessly.  "I'll have to bear the
+blame.  I can't sneak on Millie, and--and so granny'll always think I did
+it."
+
+Patty pursed up her pretty lips.  "Will she?" she thought to herself.
+"She won't if I can help it," but she did not say so aloud.  "Let's sort
+it out, and see how much really is broken," she said, lifting off the
+fatal cushion.  "P'raps it isn't as bad as it looks."
+
+Mona shook her head despondently.  "It sounded as if every bit was
+smashed.  There's one cup in half, and a plate with a piece out--no, those
+jugs were common ones, they don't matter so much," as Patty picked up a
+couple, one with its handle off, the other all in pieces.  "Here's a cup
+without any handle--oh, poor granny, it'll break her heart, and--and
+she'll never forgive me.  I don't see how she can.  Oh, Patty!
+Did anybody in all the world ever have such a trouble before?"
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised," said Patty.  "There, that's the lot, Mona.
+It's bad enough, but not so bad as it seemed at first.  There's two cups,
+a plate, and a saucer of the set broken.  Two jugs, a basin, and a plate
+of the common things."
+
+She put the broken bits of the tea-set on the table, and began to arrange
+what was left on the dressers, so as to conceal the painful gaps.
+"There, it doesn't look so dreadful now.  What had we better do next,
+Mona?"
+
+Mona turned away and dropped into granny's big chair.  "I--I've got to
+tell her, that's what I'd better do next!" she cried.  She flung her arms
+out on the table, and buried her face in them, sobbing aloud in her
+misery.
+
+Patty, alarmed at her grief, went over and put her arms around her shaking
+shoulders.  "Mona!--Mona, dear, don't cry so.  You'll be ill.  I'll go and
+tell Mrs. Barnes about it, and--and I'll tell her it wasn't your fault."
+
+A slight sound made them both look towards the door--and they saw that
+there was no longer any need for anyone to break the news.  Granny Barnes
+knew it already.
+
+For what seemed to the two girls minutes and minutes, no one uttered a
+word.  Granny with wide eyes and stricken face, stood staring at her
+broken treasures, and the two girls stared at granny.  All three faces
+were tragic.  At last she came slowly forward, and took up one of the
+broken pieces.  Her poor old hands were shaking uncontrollably.
+
+Mona sprang to her, and flung her arms about her.  "Oh, granny, granny,
+what can I do?  It--was an accident--I mean, I couldn't help it.
+Oh, I'd sooner anything had happened to me than to your tea-set."
+
+Patty Row slipped out of the house, and gently closed the door behind her.
+She had meant to stay and speak up for Mona, but something told her that
+there would be no need for that.
+
+Poor Mrs. Barnes dropped heavily into her seat.  "I wouldn't then, dear.
+There's worse disasters than--than broken china."
+
+Mona's sobs ceased abruptly.  She was so astonished at her grandmother's
+manner of taking her trouble, she could scarcely believe her senses.
+"But I--I thought you prized it so, granny--above everything?"
+
+"So I did," said granny, pathetically.  "I think I prized it too much,
+but when you get old, child, and--and the end of life's journey is in
+sight, you--you--well, somehow, these things don't seem to matter so much.
+'Tis you will be the loser, dearie.  When I'm gone the things will be
+yours.  I've had a good many years with my old treasures for company,
+so I can't complain."
+
+Mona stood looking at her grandmother with a dawning fear on her face.
+"Granny, you ain't ill, are you?  You don't feel bad, do you?"
+
+Mrs. Barnes shook her head.  "No, I ain't ill, only a bit tired.
+It's just that the things that used to matter don't seem to, now,
+and those that--that, well, those that did seem to me to come second,
+they matter most--they seem to be the only ones that matter at all."
+
+Patty Row had done well to go away and leave the two alone just then.
+Granny, with a new sense of peace resting on her, which even the loss of
+her cherished treasures could not disturb, and Mona, with a strange
+seriousness, a foreboding of coming trouble on her, which awakened her
+heart to a new sympathy.
+
+"Why, child, how you must have cried to swell your eyes up like that."
+Granny, rousing herself at last out of a day-dream, for the first time
+noticed poor Mona's face.  "Isn't your head aching?"
+
+"Oh, dreadfully," sighed Mona, realizing for the first time how acute the
+pain was.
+
+"Didn't I see Patty here when I came in?  Where has she gone?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Patty didn't break the things, did she?"
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Did she tell you what she came about?"
+
+"To tell me you were having tea with mother."
+
+"But there was more than that.  She came to ask if you'd go to Sunday
+School with her on Sunday.  Her teacher told her to ask you.  You used to
+go, didn't you?  Why have you given it up?"
+
+Mona nodded, but she coloured a little.  "I thought the girls--all knew
+about--about my running away."
+
+"I don't think they do--but I don't see that that matters.  You'd like to
+go again, wouldn't you?"
+
+"Yes, I'd like to go with Patty.  Miss Lester's her teacher, and they've
+got a library belonging to their class.  You can have a book every week to
+bring home."  Mona's face grew quite bright, but a faint shadow had crept
+over granny's.
+
+"You read a lot, Mona.  So many stories and things ain't good for you.
+Do you ever read your Bible?"
+
+Mona looked surprised.  "N--no.  I haven't got it here.  It's up at
+Lucy's."
+
+Mrs. Barnes groaned.  "Oh, child, to think of our not having a Bible in
+the house between us!"
+
+"There's the Fam'ly Bible back there," said Mona, quickly, feeling
+suddenly that a house without a Bible in it was not safe.
+
+"Yes--but it's never opened, not even to look at the pictures.  If you had
+one in every room in the house you wouldn't be any the better for it if
+you never read them, and--and acted 'pon what you're taught there."
+
+"But if you can't see to read," said Mona, trying to find excuses,
+"what's the good of your having a Bible?"
+
+"But you can see, and can read too, and I could till lately, and, anyway,
+you can read to me, and that's what I ought to have got you to do.
+I feel I haven't done my duty by you, child."
+
+Mona threw up her head.  "I don't s'pose we're any worse than some that
+read their Bibles every day," she said, complacently.  She had often heard
+others say that, and thought it rather fine.
+
+"That's not for you or me to say," retorted granny sternly.  "That's the
+excuse folks always bring out when they ain't ashamed of themselves, but
+ought to be.  If we ain't any worse, we ain't any better, and until we are
+we've no right to speak of others; and if we are--why, we shouldn't think
+of doing so.  Most folks, though, who say that, do think themselves a deal
+better than others, though they don't say so in as many words."
+
+Mona stood staring into the fire, thinking matters over.  She was very apt
+to take things to herself, and she was trying to assure herself that she
+never did think herself better than others--not better even than Millie
+Higgins.  But she was not very well satisfied with the result.
+
+Granny's voice died away, the sun went down, and the room began to grow
+dim.  Two lumps of coal fell together, and, bursting into a blaze, roused
+Mona from her reverie.  She turned quickly, and found her grandmother
+gazing at the two halves of the broken tea-cup which she held in her
+hands.  In the light of the fire tears glistened on her cheeks.
+
+Mona felt a sudden great longing to comfort her, to make life happier for
+her.  "Granny, would you have liked me to have read some of my books to
+you sometimes?"
+
+"Very much, dearie.  I always loved a nice story."
+
+"Oh--why ever didn't you say so before."  The words broke from Mona like a
+cry of reproach.  "I didn't know, I never thought--I thought you'd think
+them silly or--or--something."
+
+"I know--it wasn't your fault.  Sometimes I think it'd be better if we
+asked more of each other, and didn't try to be so independent.  It's those
+that you do most for that you care most for--and miss most when they're
+gone!" added granny, half under her breath.
+
+Once again Mona was struck by the curious change in granny's tone and
+manner, and felt a depressing sense of foreboding.
+
+"Would you like me to read to you now, granny?  Out of--of the Bible?"
+She hesitated, as though shy of even speaking the name.
+
+"Yes, dearie, I'd dearly love to hear the 86th Psalm."
+
+Mona hurriedly lifted the big book out from under the mats and odds and
+ends that were arranged on its side.  She had never read aloud from the
+Bible before, and at any other time her shyness would have almost overcome
+her.  To-day, though, she was possessed with a feeling that in the Bible
+she would perhaps find something that would rouse and cheer granny, and
+charm her own fears away, and she was in a hurry to get it and begin.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Patty found Millie Higgins down on the Quay, where she was shouting and
+laughing with five or six others who were playing 'Last Touch.'
+No one would have guessed that she had left two sad and aching hearts and
+a ruined treasure behind her but half an hour ago.
+
+Patty, with a growing scorn in her eyes, stood by talking to Philippa
+Luxmore until the game had finished.  She meant not to lose sight of
+Millie until she had had her say.  Millie caught sight of Patty, though,
+and dashed into another game without any pause.  She did not know that
+Patty had come especially to speak to her, but she did not want to have
+anything to say to Patty--not for a while, at any rate.  She would rather
+wait until the events of the afternoon had been forgotten a little.
+
+Patty guessed, though, what her purpose was, and, after she had waited for
+another game to end, she went boldly up to her.
+
+"Millie," she said, without any beating about the bush, "I've come to ask
+you to go and tell Mrs. Barnes that it was you that broke her beautiful
+tea-set."
+
+Millie coloured, but she only laughed contemptuously.  The rest of the
+little crowd looked on and listened, open-mouthed.  "Dear me!  Have you
+really, Miss Poll Pry!  Well, now you have asked me you can go home again,
+and attend to your own affairs.  We don't want you here."
+
+Patty took no notice of her rudeness.  "Millie," she pleaded, "you will
+tell?  You won't let Mona bear the blame."
+
+"I don't know what you're talking about----"
+
+"Oh, yes, you do.  I saw you come out.  I mean, I thought that was where
+you came from.  I was just going in to speak to Mona myself, and I found
+her----"
+
+"Mona Carne's a sneak."
+
+"No, she isn't."
+
+"Well, she needn't tell her grandmother that she knows anything about it.
+It might have been the wind blew the things over, or a cat.  If I was Mona
+I'd go out to play, and let her come in and find the things."
+
+"Mona couldn't be so mean and underhand.  Mrs. Barnes knows about it
+already, too."
+
+"Then there's no need for me to tell her," retorted Millie, dancing away.
+"Ta-ta, Patty-preacher."
+
+Patty's patience gave out, she could not hide her disgust any longer.
+
+"Millie Higgins, I knew you were a bully and a coward, but I didn't know
+how mean a coward you were."
+
+Her voice rang out shrill with indignation, attracting the attention of
+everyone around.  The children stopped their play to stare; two or three
+people stopped their talk to listen.  They looked from Patty to Millie,
+and back again in shocked surprise.  Patty's voice was not so much angry
+as it was contemptuous, disgusted.  Millie could have better borne anger.
+People would then have thought Patty merely a cross child, and have passed
+on.  Instead of that they looked at her sympathetically, and at Millie
+askance.
+
+Millie walked away with her head in the air, but she was furious.
+"I'll pay her out!" she thought.  "I'll pay her out yet!"  She was so
+angry she could not get out a retort to Patty.  Her words seemed to catch
+in her throat and choke her.
+
+Patty walked away to the end of the Quay, and leaned out over the
+railings, looking towards the sea.  She was disheartened and angry,
+and ashamed of herself.  She was horribly ashamed of having called out
+like that to Millie.  It was a mean, common thing to do.  She felt she
+wanted to get out of sight, to escape the questions and chatter they would
+pour into her ears.  She would wait where she was until everyone else had
+gone home.  If anyone followed her, they would soon go away again when
+they found she would not talk to them.
+
+She got behind a tall stack of boxes, and turned her back on everyone.
+Her face was turned to the sea; her eyes gazed at the heaving waters,
+and the sun setting behind them, but her thoughts were with Mona.
+
+"How she did cry, poor Mona!  I didn't know she cared for her granny so
+much."  Then she wondered what they were doing at that moment, and how
+Mrs. Barnes was taking her loss.  By degrees the sun disappeared
+altogether, and twilight began to creep over her world.  Gradually the
+sounds of play and laughter and gossiping voices ceased.  One by one old
+folks and young went home.
+
+"I'd better go too," thought Patty, "or mother will be wondering where I
+am.  Oh, dear, there's my bootlace untied again!"  Still standing close to
+the edge of the Quay, she had stooped to tie the lace when, suddenly from
+behind, she received a blow in the back which sent her completely off her
+balance.  Reeling forward, she grabbed wildly at the rail to try and save
+herself, but missed it, and with a shriek of terror she fell over the edge
+and into the water below.  With another shriek she disappeared, and the
+water closed over her.
+
+Whence the blow came, or how, she had not time to think.  It seemed to her
+as though the sky had fallen and struck her.  She did not hear another cry
+which broke from someone's throat as her body disappeared, nor hear or see
+Millie Higgins running as though the police were already after her.
+
+Millie's first instinct was to get as far from the scene as possible.
+No one must know that she had been anywhere near the fatal spot.
+Then, fortunately, better and less selfish thoughts came to her.
+Patty was there alone in the deep cold water, in the dimness, fighting for
+her life.  If help did not come to her quickly she would die--and who was
+there to help but herself?
+
+"Patty!" she called.  "Patty! Where are you?"  Her voice rose high and
+shrill with terror.  "Oh, Patty, do speak!"
+
+Then up through the water came a small, dark head and white face, and
+then, to Millie's intense relief, a pair of waving arms.
+
+She was not dead, and she was conscious.  "Oh, thank God!" moaned Millie,
+and for perhaps the first time in her life she really thanked Him, and
+sent up a real prayer from the depths of her heart.
+
+"Patty," she called, "swim towards me.  I'll help you."
+
+Poor Patty heard her, but as one speaking in a dream, for her senses were
+fast leaving her.  Summoning up all the strength she had, she tried to
+obey, but she had only made a few strokes when she suddenly dropped her
+arms and sank again.
+
+With a cry of horror and despair, Millie rushed down and into the water.
+She could not swim, but she did not think of that now.  Nothing else
+mattered if she could but save Patty.  She waded into the water until she
+could scarcely touch the bottom with her feet.  A big wave came rolling
+in; one so big that it seemed as though it must carry her off her feet,
+and away to sea.
+
+It came, but it lifted her back quite close to the steps, and it brought
+poor little unconscious Patty almost close to her feet.
+
+Millie reached out and grabbed her by her hair and her skirt, and gripped
+her tight, but it was not easy.  Patty was a dead weight, and she had to
+keep her own foothold or both would have been carried away as the wave
+receded.  Millie felt desperate.  She could not raise Patty, heavy as she
+was in her water-soaked clothes, and Patty, still unconscious, could not
+help herself.
+
+Fortunately, at that moment, Peter Carne came rowing leisurely homewards,
+and in his boat with him was Patty Row's father.
+
+Millie caught sight of them, and a great sob of relief broke from her.
+She shouted and shouted at the top of her voice, and, clinging to Patty
+with one hand, she waved the other frantically.  "Would they see?
+Would they see?"  She screamed until she felt she had cracked her throat.
+"Oh, what a noise the sea made!" she thought frantically, "how could
+anyone's voice get above it."
+
+They heard or caught sight of her at last.  Her straining eyes saw the
+boat heading for them.  She saw Patty's father spring up and wave to them,
+then seize another pair of oars, and pull till the lumbering great boat
+seemed to skim the waves.  Then strong arms gripped them and lifted them
+into safety, and a moment or two later they were on the Quay once more,
+and hurrying homewards.
+
+Before she had been in her father's arms for many minutes Patty opened her
+big blue eyes, and looked about her wonderingly.
+
+"Where--am--I?" she asked, through her chattering teeth.
+
+"You're in your old dad's arms now," said her father, brokenly, but with
+an attempt at a smile, "but you'll be rolled up in blankets in a few
+minutes, and popped into bed.  It's where you have been that matters most.
+How did you come to be taking a dip at this time, little maid, and with
+your boots on too?"
+
+"I fell in," whispered Patty, and closed her eyes again as the tiresome
+faintness crept over her.
+
+"It was my fault," sobbed Millie, thoroughly subdued and softened,
+and slightly hysterical too.  "I--I didn't mean to push her into the
+water----"
+
+"It was an accident," said Patty, coming back out of her dreaminess.
+"I was stooping down--and overbalanced--that was all.  I was tying up my
+boot-lace."  And as she insisted on this, and would say nothing more,
+everyone decided that there was nothing more to say; and, as she had
+received no real injury, and was soon out and about again, the matter was
+gradually forgotten--by all, at least, but the two actors in what might
+have been an awful tragedy.
+
+Patty received no real injury, but it was a very white and tired little
+Patty who called on Mona on the following Sunday to go with her to Sunday
+School.
+
+Mona, having a shrewd suspicion that Patty could have told much more if
+she had chosen, was longing to ask questions, but Patty was not
+encouraging.
+
+"Did you think you were really going to die?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," said Patty, simply.
+
+"What did it feel like?  Were you----"
+
+"I can't tell you." Patty's voice was very grave.  "Don't ask me, Mona.
+It's--it's too solemn to talk about."
+
+When they reached the school-yard gate, Millie Higgins came towards them.
+"Then you're able to come, Patty!  I'm so glad."  There was real feeling
+in Millie's words.  Her voice was full of an enormous relief.  Mona was
+astonished.  She herself did not look at Millie or speak to her.  She had
+not forgiven her for that afternoon's work, and she more than suspected
+her of being the cause of Patty's accident.
+
+As Millie did not move away, Mona strolled across with Patty still
+clinging to her arm, to where a group of girls stood talking together.
+Millie Higgins, with a rush of colour to her face, turned away and joined
+another group, but the group apparently did not see her, for none of them
+spoke to her, and Millie very soon moved away again to where two girls
+stood together, but as she approached the two they hastily linked arms
+and, turning their back on her, walked into the schoolroom.  Mona noticed
+both incidents, and, beginning to suspect something, kept both eyes and
+ears open.  Her suspicions were soon confirmed.
+
+"I believe that all the girls are giving Millie the cold shoulder,"
+she whispered at last in Patty's ear.  "They must have planned it all
+before.  You just watch for a few minutes.  She has been up to ever so
+many, and then, as soon as they notice her, they move away.  I wonder
+what's the meaning of it?  Millie notices it herself.  You just look at
+her.  She's as uncomfortable as she can be."
+
+Patty raised her head sharply, and followed the direction of Mona's eyes.
+Millie was just joining on to a group of four or five.  Patty saw a glance
+exchanged, and two girls turned on their heels at once; then another, and
+another, until Millie, with scared face and eyes full of shame and pain,
+stood alone once more.  She looked ready to cry with mortification.
+
+Patty, her face rosy with indignation, called across the yard to her; her
+clear voice raised so that all should hear.  "Millie, will you come for a
+walk when we come out of school this afternoon?"  Then going over and
+thrusting her arm through Millie's, she led her back to where Mona was
+still standing.
+
+"Mona is going, too, ain't you, Mona?  I don't know, though, if we shall
+have much time for a walk; we're going to the Library to choose a book
+each.  Which do you think Mona would like?"
+
+But Millie could not answer.  The unkindness she had met with that morning
+and the kindness had stabbed deep; so deep that her eyes were full of
+tears, and her throat choked with sobs.  Mona, looking up, saw it, and all
+her resentment against her faded.
+
+"I wish you'd come, too, Millie, and help us choose," she said.  "You read
+so much, you know which are the nicest."
+
+"All right," said Millie, in a choked kind of voice.  "I'd love to."
+And then the doors opened, and they all trooped into their places.
+
+When they came out from the morning service each went home with her own
+people.  Patty, looking fragile and pale, was helped along by her father.
+Mona joined her father and grandmother.  She was quiet, and had very
+little to say.
+
+"Did you like your class?" asked granny.  She was a little puzzled by
+Mona's manner.  She had expected her to be full of excitement.
+
+"Yes, I liked it very much," but she did not add anything more then.
+It was not until evening, when they were sitting together in the
+firelight, that she opened her heart on the subject.  "I wish I'd known
+our teacher all my life," she said, with a sigh.
+
+"Why, dearie?"
+
+"Oh--I don't know--gran--but she makes you see things, and she makes you
+feel so--so--well as if you do want to be good, and yet you feel you want
+to cry."
+
+"Try and tell me what she said," said granny.  "Perhaps 'twould help an
+old body, too."
+
+But Mona could not do that, nor could she put her feelings into words very
+well.  "I'll read to you instead, if you'd like me to, granny."
+
+When Millie Higgins had come out of church she had walked rapidly
+homewards by herself.  Patty and her father had gone on.  Mona was with
+her father and grandmother, and Millie felt that she could not face Mrs.
+Barnes just then.  She was fighting a big fight with herself, and she had
+not won yet.  But in the afternoon, when they came out of the school
+library, the two walked together.  They took Patty home, because she was
+too tired to do any more that day.  Then Mona and Millie hesitated,
+looking at each other.  "I must go home, too," said Mona.  "I thought I'd
+have been able to go for a walk, but it's too late.  Granny'll be
+expecting me."
+
+Millie looked at her without speaking, half turned to leave her,
+hesitated, and finally walked on at Mona's side.  She seemed nervous and
+embarrassed, but Mona did not notice it.  She did not realize anything of
+the struggle going on in Millie's mind.  She was too much occupied in
+glancing at the pictures in her book, and reading a sentence here and
+there.
+
+"I'm longing to begin it.  I think granny'll like it too."
+
+Millie did not answer, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
+When they reached the house Mona stood for a moment without opening the
+door.  She was somewhat troubled in her mind as to what to do.  She did
+not want to ask Millie in, yet she was afraid of hurting her feelings by
+not doing so.  Millie stood, and did not say good-bye.  Her cheeks were
+flushed, and she was evidently very nervous.
+
+"May I come in?" she asked at last.  "Yes, do come inside."  Mona was a
+little surprised at Millie's daring, and not too well pleased, but she
+tried to speak cordially.  Opening the door, she went in first.
+"Granny, here's Millie Higgins come to see you.  She's been to school with
+Patty and me, and we've walked back together!"
+
+Mrs. Barnes was sitting in her chair by the fire.  "Well, Millie," she
+said kindly.  "It's a long time since I've seen you.  Sit down."
+Whether she suspected the truth neither of the girls could make out.
+Millie grew even redder in the cheeks, and looked profoundly
+uncomfortable.
+
+"I--I've come to say--" she burst out in a jerky, nervous fashion,
+"I--I came here on Wednesday--when you were out, and I--behaved badly--"
+She hesitated, broke down, looked at the door as though she would have
+dashed out through it, had it only been open, then in one rush poured out
+the words that had been repeating and repeating themselves in her brain
+all that day.
+
+"I'm very sorry I broke your beautiful set, Mrs. Barnes.  I'm--ever so
+sorry, I--don't know what to do about it----"
+
+Mona, guided by some sense of how she would have felt under the
+circumstances, had disappeared on the pretence of filling a kettle.
+She knew how much harder it is to make a confession if others are looking
+on and listening.
+
+"Oh!" said Mrs. Barnes, gravely, "was it you that broke my china?
+I didn't know."
+
+Millie stared with astonishment.  "Didn't--Mona tell you?" she gasped,
+quite taken aback.  She could scarcely believe her own ears.
+Granny Barnes shook her head.  "No, I didn't know but what she did it
+herself.  I believe little Patty did say that she didn't, but I was too
+upset to take in what was said.  My precious tea-set was broken, and it
+didn't seem to me to matter who did it."
+
+Millie was silent for a moment or so.  "Well, I did it," she said at last.
+"I threw a cushion at Mona, and it hit the china behind her!  I've felt
+dreadful about it ever since, and I--I didn't dare to come near you.
+I don't know what to do about it, Mrs. Barnes.  Can it be mended?" she
+added, colouring hotly again.  "I--I mean I've got some money in the bank.
+I'll gladly pay for it to be mended, if it can be."
+
+"I don't know, Millie.  Perhaps one or two bits can--but nothing can ever
+make the set perfect again."  Mrs. Barnes' voice quavered, and tears came
+into her eyes.  "But I wouldn't let you pay for it.  We won't talk any
+more about it--I can't.  P'raps I set too much store by the things."
+She got up from her seat, and stood, leaning heavily on the table.
+"It's all right, Millie.  I'm very glad you came and told me you did it.
+Yes, I'm very glad of that.  Now we'll try and forget all about it."
+
+Millie burst into tears, and moved away towards the door.
+
+"Stay and have some tea with Mona and me," Granny urged, hospitably.
+"Don't run away, Millie."
+
+But Millie felt that she must go.  She wanted to be alone.  "I--I think
+I'd rather not--not now, thank you.  I'll come--another day, if you will
+ask me."  Then she hurried out, and up the hill, thankful that it was
+tea-time, and that nearly everyone was indoors.  She quickly turned off
+the main road into a little frequented narrow lane, and by way of that to
+the wide stretch of wild land which crowned the top of the hill.
+She wanted to be alone, and free, to fight out her battle alone.
+
+"If I'd known Mona hadn't told--"  The mean thought would try to take root
+in her mind, but she weeded it out and trampled on it.  In her heart she
+was profoundly impressed by Mona's conduct, and she was glad, devoutly
+glad, that she had not been less honourable and courageous.  She could
+face people now, and not feel a sneak or a coward.
+
+In all her life after Millie never forgot her walk on that sunny summer
+evening.  The charm and beauty, the singing of the birds, the scent of the
+furze and the heather, the peace of it, after the storms she had lived
+through lately, sank deep into her soul.
+
+Her wickedness of the past week had frightened her.  "I felt I didn't care
+what I did, I was so wild with Mona.  I wonder I didn't do more harm than
+I did.  And then Patty, poor little Patty.  I nearly drowned her!
+Oh-h-h!"  She buried her face and shuddered at the remembrance.
+"I knew she'd fall into the water if I pushed her, so it was as bad as
+being a murderer.  If she had died--and she nearly did--I should have been
+one, and I should have been in jail now, and--oh, I _will_ try to be good,
+I _will_ try to be better!"
+
+Long shadows were falling across the road as she went down the hill,
+on her homeward way.  The flowers in Lucy Carne's garden were giving out
+their evening scent.  Lucy, standing enjoying them, looked up as Millie
+came along, and nodded.
+
+"Wouldn't you like a flower to wear?" she asked.
+
+Millie paused.  "I'd love one," she said, looking in over the low stone
+wall.  "I never smell any so sweet as yours, Mrs. Carne."
+
+Lucy gathered her a spray of pink roses, and some white jessamine.
+"There," she said, "fasten those in your blouse.  Isn't the scent
+beautiful?  I don't think one could do anything bad, or think anything
+bad, with flowers like those under one's eyes and nose, do you?"
+
+"Don't you?" questioned Millie, doubtfully.  "I don't believe anything
+would keep me good."
+
+Lucy looked at her in faint surprise.  It was not like Millie to speak
+with so much feeling.  "You don't expect me to believe that," she began,
+half laughing; then stopped, for there were still traces of tears about
+Millie's eyes, and a tremulousness about her lips, and Lucy knew that she
+was really in need of help.
+
+"I know that you've got more courage than most of us, Millie," she added
+gently.  "If you would only use it in the right way.  Perhaps my little
+flowers will remind you to."
+
+"I hope they will.  I wish they would," said Millie, fastening them in her
+coat.  "Goodbye."
+
+Before she reached her own home Millie saw her father out at the door
+looking for her.  As a rule, it made her angry to be watched for in this
+way, "Setting all the neighbours talking," as she put it.  But to-day her
+conscience really pricked her, and she was prepared to be amiable.
+Her father, though, was not prepared to be amiable.  He had got a
+headache, and he wanted his tea.  He had been wanting it for an hour and
+more.
+
+"Where have you been gallivanting all this time, I'd like to know.
+I'll be bound you've been a may-gaming somewhere as you didn't ought to on
+a Sunday, your dooty to me forgotten."
+
+To Millie this sounded unjust and cruel.  She had let her duties slip from
+her for a while, but she had been neither may-gaming nor wasting her time.
+Indeed, she had been in closer touch with better things and nobler aims
+than ever in her life before, and in her new mood her father's words
+jarred and hurt her.  An angry retort rose to her lips.
+
+"I haven't been with anybody," she replied sharply.  "I've been for a walk
+by myself, that's all.  It's hard if I can't have a few minutes for myself
+sometimes."  But, in putting up her hand to remove her hat, she brushed
+her flowers roughly, and her angry words died away.  In return for a blow
+they gave out a breath of such sweetness that Millie could not but heed
+it.  "I--I was thinking, and I forgot about tea-time," she added in a
+gentler voice.  "But I won't be long getting it now, father."
+
+While the kettle was coming to the boil she laid the cloth and cut some
+bread and butter; then she went to the larder and brought out an apple
+pie.  With all her faults, Millie was a good cook, and looked after her
+father well.
+
+He looked at her preparations approvingly, and his brow cleared.
+"You're a good maid, Millie," he said, as he helped the pie, while Millie
+poured out the tea.  "I'm sorry I spoke a bit rough just now.  I didn't
+really mean anything.  I was only a bit put out."
+
+Millie's heart glowed with pride and pleasure.  "That's all right,
+father," and then she added, almost shyly, "I--I'd no business to--to
+forget the time, and stay out so long."  It was the first time in her life
+she had admitted she was wrong when her father had been vexed with her and
+given her a scolding.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Lucy Carne knocked at Granny Barnes' door, and waited.  She had a little
+nosegay of flowers in her hand and a plate of fresh fish. Almost every day
+she brought granny something, even if it was only a simple flower, and
+granny loved her little 'surprises.'
+
+Lucy waited a moment, hearing a voice inside, then she knocked again, and
+louder.
+
+"I do believe Mona's reading to her again, and they've forgotten their
+tea!"
+
+Getting no answer even now, Lucy opened the door a little way and popped
+her head in.  "May I come in?  I don't know what world you two are living
+in to-day, but I knocked twice and I couldn't reach you."
+
+Mona carefully placed the marker in her book and closed it, but
+reluctantly.  Miss Lester, her Sunday School teacher, had given her the
+marker.  It was a strip of ribbon with fringed ends, and with her name
+painted on it, and a spray of white jessamine.  Every girl who had joined
+the library had had one.  Some were blue, some red, some white, and the
+rest orange colour.  Mona's was red.  She was glad, for she liked red, and
+the delicate white flower looked lovely on it, she thought.  Miss Lester
+had painted them herself, and the girls prized them beyond anything.
+
+Mona's eyes lingered on hers as she closed the book.  It was rather hard
+to have to leave her heroine just at that point, and set about getting
+tea.  She did wish Lucy had not come for another ten minutes.
+
+Granny looked up with a little rueful smile.  "I felt it was tea-time,"
+she said, "but I thought Mona would like to finish out the chapter, and
+then before we knew what we were doing we had begun another.  It's a
+pretty tale.  I wish you had been hearing it too, Lucy.  It's called
+'Queechy.'  A funny sort of a name, to my mind."
+
+"'Queechy'!--why, I read that years ago, and I've read it again since I've
+been married.  I borrowed it from mother when I was so ill that time.
+Mother had it given to her as a prize by her Bible-class teacher.
+She thinks the world of it.  So do I.  I love it."
+
+"I'm longing to get to the end," said Mona, turning over the pages
+lingeringly.  "There's only three chapters more."
+
+"Oh, well, that's enough for another reading or two," said Granny.
+"They are long chapters.  It would be a pity to hurry over them just for
+the sake of reaching the end.  We'll have a nice time to-morrow, dearie.
+I shall be sorry when it's all done."
+
+But Mona was impatient.  "To-morrow!  Nobody knows what may happen before
+to-morrow.  Something is sure to come along and prevent anybody's doing
+what they want to do," she said crossly.
+
+Granny looked at her with grieved eyes.  "I think you generally manage to
+do what you want to, Mona," she said, gravely.  "I don't think you can
+have profited much by what you've read," she added, and turned to Lucy.
+
+Mona laid down her book with a sigh.  "It's much easier to read about
+being good than to be good oneself," she thought.
+
+Lucy came in from the scullery with a vase full of water.  "I'll have a
+few nice flowers for you to take to Miss Lester on Sunday, Mona, if you'll
+come and fetch them."
+
+"Thank you," said Mona, but she looked and spoke glumly.  She was still
+vexed with Lucy for coming in and interrupting them.  She did not know
+that Lucy came in at meal-times just to make sure that granny had her
+meals, for Mona thought nothing of being an hour late with them if she was
+occupied in some other way.
+
+"Don't trouble about it, if you don't care to have them," Lucy added
+quietly.  And Mona felt reproved.
+
+"I'd like to," she said, looking ashamed of herself.  "Miss Lester loves
+having flowers.  I'll run up on Saturday evening for them, mother.
+They'll be better for being in water all night."
+
+"That's right.  Now, I'll cook the fish while you lay the cloth. Granny'll
+be fainting if we don't give her something to eat and drink soon.  I
+should have been down before, but I had to see father off."
+
+"Will he be out all night?" Granny asked, anxiously.  She never got over
+her dread of the sea at night.
+
+"Yes.  If they get much of a catch they'll take it in to Baymouth to land.
+The 'buyers' will be there to-morrow.  I'm hoping Peter'll be back in the
+afternoon.  These are fine whiting.  You like whiting, don't you, mother?"
+
+"Yes, very much.  It's kind of you to bring them.  I feel now how badly I
+was wanting my tea.  You'll have some with us?"
+
+"I think I will.  I was so busy getting Peter off that I didn't have
+anything myself."
+
+Mona laid the cloth with extra care.  Lucy's vase of stocks stood at one
+corner.  Though it was August, the wind was cold, and the little bit of
+fire in the grate made the kitchen very pleasant and cosy.
+
+"I've got a bit of news for you, Mona," said Lucy, coming back from
+putting away the frying-pan.  "Mrs. Luxmore told me that Miss Lester is
+engaged.  Had you heard it?"
+
+"Oh, no!  What, my Miss Lester?  Miss Grace?"  Mona was intensely
+interested.  "Oh, I am so glad.  Who is she engaged to, mother?"
+
+"Why, Dr. Edwards!  Isn't it nice!  Doesn't it seem just right?" Lucy was
+almost as excited as Mona.  "I am so glad she isn't going to marry a
+stranger, and leave Seacombe."
+
+"Can it be true! really true?"
+
+"It's true enough.  Mrs. Luxmore told me.  Her husband works two days a
+week at Mrs. Lester's, and Mrs. Lester told him her very own self. So it
+must be true, mustn't it?"
+
+Mona's thoughts had already flown to the wedding.  "We girls in Miss
+Grace's class ought to give her a wedding present.  What would be a nice
+thing to give her?  And, oh, mother!"  Mona clapped her hands in a fresh
+burst of excitement.  "I wonder if she will let us all go to the wedding
+and strew roses in her path as she comes out of the church--"
+
+"It'll depend a good deal on what time of the year the wedding is to be,"
+remarked granny, drily.  But Mona's mind was already picturing the scene.
+
+"We ought all to be dressed in white, with white shoes and stockings, and
+gloves, and some should wear pink round their waists and in their hats,
+and the rest should have blue, and those that wear pink should throw white
+roses, and those that wear blue should throw pink roses. Wouldn't it look
+sweet?  I'd rather wear blue, because I've got a blue sash."
+
+A door banged upstairs, and made them all jump.  "Why, how the wind is
+rising!" said Lucy, in a frightened voice.  She hurried to the window and
+looked out anxiously.  "Oh, dear! and I was hoping it was going to be
+pretty still to-night."
+
+"What I'd give if Peter was a ploughman, or a carpenter!" cried granny,
+almost irritably.  "I don't know how you can bear it, Lucy, always to have
+the fear of the sea dogging you day and night!" Her own face had grown
+quite white.
+
+"I couldn't bear it," said Lucy quietly, "if I didn't feel that wherever
+he is God's hand is over him just the same."  She came back and stood by
+the fire, gazing with wistful eyes into its glowing heart.
+
+"But sailors and fishermen do get drowned," urged Mona, putting her fears
+into words in the hope of getting comfort.
+
+"And ploughmen and carpenters meet with their deaths, too.  We've got our
+work to do, and we can't all choose the safest jobs.  Some must take the
+risks.  And no matter what our work is, death'll come to us all one day.
+Some of us who sit at home, die a hundred deaths thinking of those
+belonging to us and the risks they are facing."
+
+Then, seeing that granny was really nervous, Lucy led the talk to other
+things, though, in that little place, with nothing to break the force of
+the wind, or deaden the noise of the waves, it was not easy to get one's
+mind away from either.  "I don't suppose it is very bad, really," said
+Lucy, comfortingly.  "It always sounds a lot here, but the men laugh at me
+when I talk of 'the gale' blowing.  'You must wait till you hear the real
+thing,' they say.  But I tell them I have heard the real thing, and it
+began quietly enough.  Now, Mona, you and I will put away the tea things,
+shall we?"
+
+"You won't go home before you really need to, will you?" asked granny.
+"It'll be a long and wearying time you'll have alone there, waiting for
+morning.  Oh, I wish it was morning now," she added, almost passionately,
+"and the night over, and the storm.  I do long for rest."
+
+Lucy looked at her anxiously, surprised by the feeling in her voice. "Why,
+mother! you mustn't worry yourself like that.  It's nothing of a wind yet,
+and it may die down again quite soon.  I think it was a mistake letting
+you come to live on this side of the road, where you feel the wind so much
+more.  If I were you I'd move up nearer to us the first time there's a
+place to let.  You feel just as I do about the storms, and it's only those
+that do who understand how hard it is to bear."
+
+Granny nodded, but she did not answer.  She turned to Mona. "Wouldn't you
+like to go for a run before bedtime?" she asked. "The air'll do you good,
+and help you to sleep."
+
+"I didn't want her to get nervous just before bedtime," she confided to
+Lucy when Mona had gone.  "I try not to let her see how nervous I get--but
+sometimes one can't help but show it."
+
+Mona did not need any urging.  Her thoughts were full of Miss Lester's
+coming marriage and her own plans for it, and ever since she had heard the
+news she had been longing to go out and spread it and talk it over.
+
+"Patty ought to wear blue, to match her eyes; Millie will be sure to
+choose pink, she has had such a fancy for pink ever since she had that
+print frock."
+
+But when she reached the Quay she met with disappointment.  There was
+hardly anyone there but some boys playing 'Prisoners.'  Certainly it was
+not very tempting there that evening, the wind was cold and blustery, and
+both sea and sky were grey and depressing.  Mona was glad to come away
+into the shelter of the street.
+
+She looked about her for someone to talk to, but, seeing no one, she made
+her way home again.  It was very aggravating having to keep her great
+ideas bottled up till morning, but it could not be helped. When she
+reached home again, Lucy was still there, but she had her hat on ready to
+start.
+
+"I wish you hadn't to go," said Granny Barnes, wistfully.  "I wish you
+could stay here the night."
+
+Lucy looked at her anxiously.  "Are you feeling very nervous, mother?
+Would you rather I stayed?  I will if you wish."
+
+"No,--oh, no," granny protested, though she would have liked it above all
+things.  "I wasn't thinking about myself; I was thinking about you, up
+there all alone."
+
+"Oh, I shall be all right.  I am getting used to it.  Now you go to bed
+early, and try to go to sleep, then you won't notice the weather. You are
+looking dreadfully tired.  Good night--good night, Mona."
+
+"I think I'll do as Lucy said," said granny a little while later. "I'm
+feeling tireder than ever in my life before.  If I was in bed now this
+minute, I believe I could sleep.  If I once got off I feel as if I could
+sleep for ever."  And by half-past eight the house was shut up, and they
+had gone to bed.
+
+Granny, at least, had gone to bed, and had fallen almost at once into a
+heavy slumber.  Mona was more wakeful.  The news of her teacher's
+engagement had excited her, and not having been able to talk it out, her
+brain was seething with ideas.
+
+She put out her candle, drew back her curtains, and looked out into the
+gathering darkness.  An air of gloom and loneliness reigned over
+everything.  Far out she could see white caps on the waves, but not a
+boat, or vessel of any kind.  The sky looked full and lowering.
+
+With a little shiver Mona drew her curtains again and relighted her
+candle.  As it flickered and burnt up, her eyes fell on the book so
+reluctantly put aside until to-morrow.
+
+"Oh, I wish I could have just a little read," she thought, longingly.
+"Just a look to see what happens next."
+
+She took up the book and opened it, glancing over the chapters she had
+read--then she turned to the one she and granny were going to read
+to-morrow.  Her eyes travelled greedily over a few paragraphs, then she
+turned the page.  Presently she grew tired of standing, and sat on the
+side of the bed, lost to everything but the pages she was devouring
+hungrily.  The wind blew her curtains about, the rain drove against the
+panes, but Mona did not heed either.  She had drawn herself up on the bed
+by that time and, leaning up against her pillows, was reading comfortably
+by the light of the candle close beside her.  She was miles away from her
+real surroundings, and driving with Fleda in England, and no other world
+existed for her.
+
+Her eyelids growing heavy, she closed them for a moment.  She didn't know
+that she had closed them, and imagined she was still reading. She was very
+surprised, though, presently, to find that what she thought she had been
+reading was not on the open pages before her. She rubbed her tiresomely
+heavy lids and looked again; then she raised herself on her elbow and
+began again at the top of the mysterious page, and all went well for a
+paragraph or two.  Fleda was walking now alone, through a grassy glade.
+Oh, how lovely it was--but what a long walk to be taking in such a high
+wind.  Mona forced open one eye, and let the other rest a moment.  "The
+trees sometimes swept back, leaving an opening, and at other places,"
+stretched--stretched, yes it was, "stretched their branches over,"--over
+--but how the wind roared in the trees, and what a pity that someone
+should have had a bonfire just there, the smell was suffocating--and the
+heat!  How could she bear it!  And, oh, dear!  How dazzling the sun was--
+or the bonfire; the whole wood would be on fire if they did not take care!
+Oh, the suffocating smoke!
+
+Mona--or was she Fleda?--gasped and panted.  If relief did--not--come
+soon--she could not draw--another breath.  She felt she was paralysed--
+helpless--dying--and the wind--so much--air--somewhere--she was trying
+to say, when suddenly, from very, very far away she heard her own name
+being called.  It sounded like 'Mona'--not Fleda--and--yet, somehow she
+knew that it was she who was meant.
+
+"Oh--what--do they--want!" she  thought wearily.  "I can't go. I'm----"
+
+"Mona! Mona!"  She heard it again; her own name, and called frantically,
+and someone was shaking her, and saying something about a fire, and then
+she seemed to be dragged up bodily and carried away. "Oh, what rest! and
+how nice to be out of that awful heat--she would have--died--if--if--"
+Then she felt the cold air blowing on her face, the dreadful dragging pain
+in her chest was gone, she could breathe! She opened her eyes and looked
+about her--and for the first time was sure that she was dreaming.
+
+The other was real enough, but this could only be a dream, for she was
+lying on the pavement in the street, in the middle of the night, with
+people standing all about staring down at her.  They were people she knew,
+she thought, yet they all looked so funny.  Someone was kneeling beside
+her, but in a strange red glow which seemed to light up the darkness, she
+could not recognise the face.  Her eyelids fell, in spite of herself, but
+she managed to open them again very soon, and this time she saw the black
+sky high above her; rain fell on her face.  The red glow went up and down;
+sometimes it was brilliant, sometimes it almost disappeared, and all the
+time there was a strange crackling, hissing noise going on, and a horrible
+smell.
+
+By degrees she felt a little less dazed and helpless.  She tried to put
+out her hands to raise herself, but she could not move them. They were
+fastened to her sides.  She saw then that she was wrapped in a blanket.
+
+"What--ever--has happened!" she asked sharply.
+
+"There has been an accident--a fire.  Your house is on fire--didn't you
+know?"
+
+"Fire!--our house--on fire!"  Mona sat upright, and looked about her in a
+bewildered way.  Could it be that she was having those dreadful things
+said to her.  She had often wondered how people felt, what they thought--
+what they did, when they had suddenly to face so dreadful a thing.
+
+"Where's granny?" she asked abruptly--almost violently.
+
+There was a moment's silence.  Then Patty Row's mother said in a
+breathless, hesitating way, "Nobody--no one knows yet, Mona. Nor how the
+house was set on fire," she added, hastily, as though anxious to give Mona
+something else to think of.  "Some say the wind must have blown down the
+kitchen chimney and scattered some red-hot coals about the floor."
+
+"But 'twas the top part of the house that was burning first along," broke
+in old Tom Harris.  "Mrs. Carne saw smoke and fire coming through the
+bedroom windows and the roof."
+
+"The top part!--where granny was sleeping!"  Mona threw open the blanket
+and struggled to her feet.  "Oh, do stop talking, and tell me--hasn't
+anyone found granny?"  Her question ended almost in a scream.
+
+"They--they're getting her----" said somebody.  The rest preserved an
+ominous silence.
+
+"There's a chain of men handing up buckets of water through the back
+garden," said someone else, as though trying to distract her thoughts.
+"They'll soon get the fiercest of the fire down."
+
+"But--but think of granny.  We can't wait for that.  She's in the fire all
+this time.  She was in bed.  Hasn't anyone been to her? Oh, they must
+have.  They can't have left her--an old woman--to save herself!"
+
+Mona was beside herself with the horror of the thing.
+
+"They tried," said Mrs. Row, gently, "but they were beaten back.
+Mrs. Carne tried until she was--There!  She's gone--Mona's gone!"
+Her explanation ended in a scream.  "Oh, stop her--somebody, do, she'll be
+killed."
+
+"It'd have been sensibler to have told her the truth at once," said Tom
+Harris, impatiently.  "She's got to know, poor maid.  Now we shall have
+another life thrown away, more than likely, and Mrs. Carne with a broken
+leg, and nobody knows what other damage."
+
+Slipping through the crowd in the darkness, Mona, in a perfect frenzy of
+fear, dashed into the house.  All she was conscious of was hot anger
+against all those who stood about talking and looking on and doing
+nothing, while granny lay helpless in her bed suffocating, perhaps
+burning; were they mad!--did they want granny to die?--didn't they care,
+that no one made any attempt to save her.  Through the semi-darkness, the
+haze of smoke and steam, she heard people, and voices, but she could not
+see anyone.  The heat was fearful, and the smell of burning made her feel
+sick.
+
+She groped her way stumblingly through the kitchen.  The furniture seemed
+to her to be scattered about as though on purpose to hinder her, but she
+kept along by the dressers as well as she could. They would be a guide,
+she thought.  "Poor tea-set!  There will be little of it left now."
+Her fingers touched something soft. Lucy's stocks, still in the vase.
+At last she found herself at the foot of the staircase.  The door was
+closed.  Someone had wisely shut it to check the rush of air up it.
+After a struggle, Mona managed to open it again, and fell back before the
+overpowering heat and the smoke which choked and blinded her.  She clapped
+her hand over her nose and mouth, and crouching down, dragged herself a
+little way up, lying almost flat on her face, she was so desperate now
+with the horror of it all, beside herself.  Ahead of her was what looked
+like a blazing furnace.  All around her was an awful roaring, the noise of
+burning, broken into every now and again by a crash, after which the red
+light blazed out brighter, and the roaring redoubled.
+
+How could anyone live in such a furnace.  An awful cry of despair broke
+from her parched throat.  "Granny!" she screamed.  "Oh, granny! Where are
+you?  I can't reach--"  Another crash, and a blazing beam fell across the
+head of the burning staircase.
+
+"Granny! Oh, God save my----"  But before she could finish she was seized
+by strong arms and lifted up, and then darkness fell on her brain, and she
+knew no more.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+When poor Lucy Carne next opened her eyes and came back with a sigh to the
+horrors and suffering of which she had for a time been mercifully
+unconscious, her first thought was for her husband.
+
+"Has the boat come in?  Did the storm die down?--or did it get worse?
+Has anyone heard or seen anything of my husband?"  She panted feebly.
+But before they could answer her, she had floated off again into a
+troubled delirium.
+
+"Oh, the wind!  Oh, the awful wind!" she kept on repeating.  "Oh, can't
+anything stop it!  It's fanning the flames to fury; it's blowing them
+towards granny's room.  Oh, the noise--I must find her--I must save her--
+she's so feeble.  Oh, granny! Granny!"  Her voice would end in a scream,
+followed by a burst of tears; then she would begin again.
+
+Once or twice she had recovered consciousness, and then had asked for her
+husband or Mona.  "Is she badly hurt?--will she get over it?"
+
+The nurse soothed and comforted her, and did all she could.  "She isn't
+conscious yet, but they think she will be soon.  She's got slight
+concussion, and she has cut herself a bit--but she will do all right if
+she gets over the shock.  They are keeping her very quiet; it is the only
+way.  You must try not to scream and call out, dear.  For if she began to
+come round and heard you, it might be very, very serious for her."
+
+After that Lucy lay trying hard to keep fast hold of her senses.
+"Don't let me scream!" she pleaded.  "Put something over my head if I
+begin.  I can keep myself quiet as long as I have my senses--but when they
+drift away--I--don't know what I do.  I didn't know I made a noise.
+Oh--h--h!" as some slight movement racked her with pain.
+
+"Poor dear," said Nurse.  "I expect you're feeling your bruises now, and
+your leg."
+
+"I seem to be one big lump of pain," sighed poor Lucy.  "But I don't mind
+if only Mona pulls through, and Peter is safe.  Oh, my poor husband--what
+a home-coming!"
+
+"Now try not to dwell on it.  You'll only get yourself worse, and for his
+sake, poor man, you ought to try and get well as fast as you can.
+There, look at those flowers Patty Row has brought you.  Aren't they
+sweet!"
+
+"Oh, my!" Lucy drew in deep breaths of their fragrance.  "Stocks, and
+sweet-brier--oh, how lovely!  They'll help to take away the--smell of the
+burning."  Then her mind seemed to float away again, but not this time
+through a raging furnace, but through sweet-scented gardens, and sunlight,
+and soft pure air.
+
+When she came back to the hospital ward again, Nurse smiled at her with
+eyes full of pleasure.  "I've good news for you," she said, bending low,
+so that her words might quite reach the poor dazed brain.  "Your husband
+is safe!"
+
+"Oh, thank God!  Thank God!"  Her eyes swam in tears of joy.  "Does--he
+know?" she asked a moment later, her face full of anxiety.  The thought of
+his sad home-coming was anguish to her.
+
+Nurse nodded.  "Yes, dear, he knows.  The Vicar went to Baymouth by the
+first train and brought him back.  He did not want him to have the news
+blurted out to him without any preparation."
+
+"How very kind!  How is he?  Peter, I mean.  Is he feeling it very badly?
+Oh, I wish I could be there to help him, to comfort him.  He'll be so
+lonely--and there will be so much to do."
+
+"My dear, he won't want for help.  Everyone is ready and anxious to do
+what they can.  Of course, he is upset.  He wouldn't be the man he is if
+he wasn't.  It is all a terrible shock to him!  But it might have been so
+much worse.  He is so thankful that you and Mona are safe.  He doesn't
+give a single thought to himself."
+
+"He never does," said Lucy, half-smiling, half-weeping.  "That's why he
+needs me to take thought of him.  When may I see him, Nurse?"
+
+"That's what he is asking.  If you keep very quiet now, and have a nice
+sleep, perhaps you'll be strong enough for just a peep at him when you
+wake up."
+
+"I'll lie still, and be very quiet, but I can't promise to sleep."
+She did sleep, though, in spite of herself, for when next she turned her
+head to see if the hands of the clock had moved at all, she found her
+husband sitting beside her, smiling at her.
+
+"Why, however did you get here, dear?  I never saw you come--nor heard a
+sound."
+
+"I reckon I must have growed up out of the floor," said Peter, bending to
+kiss her.  "Well, my girl, this isn't where I expected to see 'ee when I
+came back--but I'm so thankful to find you at all, I can't think of
+anything else."
+
+"Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you've come," she cried, clinging to him
+passionately.  "I never thought we should meet again in this world.
+Oh! Peter--what we've been through!  Oh! That night!  That awful night!"
+
+He patted her soothingly, holding her hand in his.  "I know, I know--but
+you must try not to dwell on it.  If you throw yourself back, I shan't be
+allowed to come again."
+
+Lucy put a great restraint upon herself.  "They've told you:--poor granny
+is dead?" she whispered, but more calmly.
+
+"Yes--they've told me.  I believe I know the worst now.  I've one bit of
+comfort, though, for all of us.  I've just seen the doctor, and he says
+she was dead before the fire reached her.  She must have died almost as
+soon as she lay down."
+
+Then Lucy broke down and wept from sheer relief.  "Oh, thank God," she
+said, fervently, "for taking her to Himself, and sparing her the horrors
+of that awful night.  Thank Him, too, for Mona's sake.  The thought that
+granny perished in the fire because no one reached her in time would have
+been the worst of all the thoughts weighing on her mind.  She will be
+spared that now."
+
+At that moment, though, Mona was troubled by no thoughts at all.  She lay
+in her bed in the ward just as they had placed her there hours before,
+absolutely unconscious.  If it had not been for the faint beating of her
+heart she might have been taken for dead.  Doctors came and looked at her
+and went away again, the day nurses went off duty, and the night nurses
+came on and went off again, but still she showed no sign of life.
+With her head and her arms swathed in bandages, she lay with her eyes
+closed, her lips slightly parted.  It was not until the following day, the
+day Granny Barnes was laid to rest in the little churchyard on the hill,
+that she opened her eyes on this world once more, and glanced about her,
+dazed and bewildered.
+
+"Where?" she began.  But before she had finished her sentence, her eyes
+closed.
+
+This time, though, it was not unconsciousness, but sleep that she drifted
+off into, and it was not until afternoon that she opened her eyes once
+more.
+
+"Where am I?"  She completed her question this time.  Then, at the sight
+of a nurse in uniform, a look of alarm crept into her eyes.
+
+"Where are you, dear?  Why, here in hospital, being taken care of, and
+your mother is here, too."
+
+"Mother."
+
+"Yes, and we are looking after you so well!  You are both better already."
+
+The cheerful voice and smile, the kindly face, drove all Mona's fears away
+at once, and for ever.  But, as memory returned, other fears took their
+place.
+
+"Is--mother--hurt?"
+
+"Yes--but, oh, not nearly as badly as she might have been.  She will be
+well again soon.  You shall go into the ward with her when you are a
+little better.  You must keep very quiet now, and not talk."
+
+"But--granny--and father?" faltered Mona.  "I _must_ know--I can't rest--
+till--I do."
+
+For a moment the Nurse hesitated.  It was very difficult to know what to
+do for the best.  "She will only fret and worry if I don't tell her,
+and imagine things worse than they are," she thought to herself.
+
+"Your father is home, and safe and well.  You shall see him soon.
+Your poor granny is safe, too, dear, and well.  So well, she will never
+suffer any more."
+
+"They--let her--die----"
+
+"No one let her die, dear.  She had died in her sleep before the fire
+broke out.  She was mercifully spared that--and isn't that something to be
+thankful for, Mona?  There, there, don't cry, dear.  You mustn't cry, or
+you will be ill again, and, for your father's and mother's sake, you must
+try and get well.  Your father wants you home to take care of him until
+your mother can come.  Think of him, dear, and how badly he needs you, and
+try your best to get better.  He is longing to come to see you."
+
+Mercifully for Mona, she was too weak to weep much, or even to think,
+and before very long she had sunk into an exhausted sleep.
+Mercifully, too, perhaps, in the horror of her awakening, that terrible
+night, and the distracting hours that followed, it never entered her head
+that it was she who had brought about the disaster.  It was not till later
+that that dreadful truth came home to her, to be repented of through years
+of bitter regret.
+
+The next day her father came to see her, and a few days after that she was
+carried into the adjoining ward and put into the bed next to her mother.
+
+That was a great step forward.  For the first time a ray of sunshine
+penetrated the heavy cloud of sorrow which had overshadowed them all.
+
+"Keep them both as cheerful as possible," the doctor had said, "and don't
+let them dwell on the tragedy if you can help it."  So every day a visitor
+came to see them--Miss Grace Lester, Mrs. Row, and Patty, Millie Higgins,
+and Philippa--and as they all brought flowers and fruit, the little ward
+became a perfect garden, gay with bright colours and sweet scents.
+
+Miss Grace brought a book for Mona, and a soft, warm shawl for Lucy.
+They were delighted.  "And please, Miss," said Lucy, "may I give you my
+best wishes for your happiness?  We heard you were going to be married
+before so very long."
+
+Grace Lester blushed prettily.  "Yes, but not till next spring," she said.
+"Thank you for your good wishes, Mrs. Carne.  It was very sweet of you to
+remember me through all the troubles you have been through lately.
+I am so glad my new home will be in Seacombe, where I know and love
+everyone.  I should have been very grieved if I had had to leave it.
+Mona, what are you thinking about, to make you look so excited?  You know
+the doctor ordered you to keep calm!  I don't know what he would say if he
+saw you now.  He would blame me for exciting you, and I should never be
+allowed to come again."
+
+"Oh, Miss Grace, I am calm--I really am.  I won't be excited, I won't be
+ill, but, oh, I must tell you--I thought of something as soon as ever I
+heard there was to be a wedding--and oh, I wish you would--I am sure it
+would be lovely.  We want--all your Sunday School girls, I mean, Miss
+Grace--to be allowed to come and strew flowers in your path as you come
+out of church, and we'd all be dressed in white, and--and some would have
+pink, and some blue in their hats, and--Oh, Miss Grace, do please think
+about it and try and say 'Yes!'"
+
+Grace Lester's eyes were misty with happy tears by the time Mona had done.
+"Why, you nice, kind children," she cried, "to have such plans for making
+my wedding day beautiful and happy! I had not thought of anything so
+charming."
+
+For a few moments she sat silent, thinking deeply, and Mona lay back on
+her pillow watching her face.  "Would she consent--Oh, would she?
+It would almost be too lovely, though," she concluded.  "It could not
+really come true."
+
+"Mona," said Miss Grace at last.  "Do you know what I thought you might be
+going to ask?"
+
+Mona shook her head, her eyes were full of questioning.
+
+"I thought, perhaps, you were going to ask if you might come and be my
+little housemaid in my new home!"
+
+"Oh--h--h!"  Mona and her mother both exclaimed aloud and in the same tone
+of delight.  "Oh, Miss Grace!"  Mona sprang up in her bed and clapped her
+hands, bandages and all.  "Oh, Miss Grace! do you really mean it?
+That would be better than anything, because that would be for always.
+Oh, mother," turning to Lucy, her face radiant, "wouldn't that be lovely!"
+
+"Lovely," said Lucy, her eyes full of deep pleasure.  "I wouldn't ask for
+anything better for you, Mona.  I think--I know, it'll be the best that
+can possibly happen."
+
+"How very nice of you, Mrs. Carne."  Grace Lester pressed Lucy's hand.
+"You make me feel--very, very proud--but--well, I will try to do my best
+for her.  Good-bye.  I must not stay any longer now, or Nurse will be
+coming to scold me, but," with a smile, "I must just stay long enough to
+say I engage Mona now to come to me in April.  We will talk about wages
+and uniform, and all those things later on, when you are both stronger,
+and I have had time to think.  Now, good-bye--and Mona, don't keep your
+mother awake, or I shall be in everyone's bad books."
+
+"Oh, I'm as excited as she is, I think," said Lucy, smiling up at Mona's
+future mistress, "and it will be a real pleasure to me to teach her and
+get her as ready as I can--and I can't tell you, Miss, how pleased her
+father'll be that she is going where she will be so happy and well looked
+after."
+
+Grace Lester clasped Lucy's hand again.  "It will be a great pleasure to
+me to have her," she said warmly, "and, trained by you, I know she will be
+a comfort to any mistress."
+
+With this new interest to lift her thoughts from her troubles, Mona
+regained health so rapidly that she was able to leave the hospital sooner
+than anyone had dared to hope.  Poor Lucy, who had to stay there some
+weeks longer, watched her departure with tearful eyes.  "I shall feel
+lonely without you, dear," she said, "but for your own sake, and father's,
+I am glad you are going home.  You will look after him, won't you, and see
+to his comforts--and I'll be back in about three weeks, they say, though
+I'll have to go about on crutches for a bit."
+
+"Oh, yes, I'll look after father.  Don't you worry, mother, I'll see to
+things," Mona reassured her.
+
+"I expect you will find the house in a pretty mess, and the garden too.
+When I ran out that night, I little thought I wouldn't be back for nigh on
+two months.  It's a lesson to one to be always prepared."
+
+"Don't you worry, mother, we'll soon get it all straight again.  I am sure
+your place was tidier than any other in Seacombe would be, left in a hurry
+like that, and in the middle of the night."
+
+"But, Mona, you mustn't do too much."  Lucy's anxieties took a new
+direction.  She knew how Mona could, and would work, when she was in the
+mood to.  "Don't be doing too much and making yourself ill.  That would
+trouble me ever so much more than having the house untidy.  You leave it
+all till I come home.  When I am able to move about again I'll soon get
+things nice."
+
+Mona nodded, with a laugh in her eyes.  "Why, of course, everything will
+be scrubbed inside and out, top and bottom, when you get home to do it,
+mother."  But in her mind she added, "if you can find anything needing
+it."
+
+Then she kissed her 'good-bye,' promising to come again soon.  "And I'll
+take her a few flowers out of her own garden," she thought.  "She will
+love that better than anything.  But I expect the garden has run wild by
+this time."
+
+She did not say as much to her mother, for she had learnt how much such
+thoughts worried her; but she did to her father when he came to fetch her.
+He only smiled though.  "You wait till you see it, my girl," he said
+mysteriously, "then you'll know how things have gone since you have been
+away."
+
+"There!" triumphantly, when they presently drew up at the gate.
+"Do you say now that a poor lone man can't keep his place tidy while his
+women-folk are away!" and Mona stared, wide-eyed with surprise, for,
+instead of bushes all beaten down and tangled, weedy paths, and stripped
+flower beds, as she had pictured, the whole garden seemed full.
+Geraniums, phlox, mignonette, roses, snapdragons, and pansies made the
+beds gay, while at the back of them great bushes of Michaelmas daisies and
+chrysanthemums stood erect, neatly tied up to stakes.
+
+"But how?--who--whenever did you find time, father?"
+
+"I've never put a hand to it."
+
+"Then it must have been the fairies," she laughed.  "Flowers may grow by
+themselves, but paths can't pull up their own weeds--I wish they could--
+nor bushes tie themselves up to stakes."
+
+Her father laughed too.  "Well, never having seen a fairy, I can't
+contradict.  But I'm bound to say that Matthew Luxmore was never my idea
+of one."
+
+"Mr. Luxmore?"
+
+"Yes, he's come two and three times a week, all the time your mother's
+been in hospital, and tended the garden the same as if it had been his
+own.  Don't you call that acting the real Christian?"
+
+"I do.  Oh, father, I wish mother could see it.  Wouldn't it make her
+happy."  Mona was touched almost to tears.  "And doesn't it make you want
+to do something nice for people in return!  But everybody has been so kind
+I don't know where to begin."
+
+"The only way to begin," said Peter Carne, as he led Mona slowly up the
+path, "is to take the first oppertoonity that comes along of doing a
+kindness to one of them, and to keep on taking all the oppertoonities you
+can.  I know that the folks that have been good to us would be cut to the
+heart if we were to talk about returns.  You can't return such things as
+they've done for us.  You can only let them know how grateful you are.
+And if a chance comes of doing anything for them--why, do it.  Now, you
+come along in, my girl, and sit down.  You've done enough for one while.
+You've got to sit there and rest while I make you a cup of tea.
+That's right, the fire's just proper for making a nice bit of toast."
+
+Mona sank down in the arm-chair, and stared about her in speechless
+surprise.  "Why, it's like a palace!  I came home meaning to clean it from
+top to bottom, and there's nothing for me to do.  Has Mr. Luxmore been
+acting the fairy here too, father!"
+
+"No, the fairies in this department were a smaller sort, and more like my
+idea of fairies.  It's Millie Higgins and Patty that have set this all to
+rights for you.  They came and begged of me to let them, till I couldn't
+refuse any longer.  Patty's mother has cooked for me and looked after me
+all the time.  There never was such folk as Seacombe folk I'm certain
+sure.  There, there's a nice bit of toast for you, child, and the kettle
+just going to boil right out over our shining fender.  We'll have a cup of
+tea in a brace of shakes now.  Then you will feel like a new woman."
+
+"I do that already," said Mona.  "I mean," she added softly, "I am going to
+try to be, father."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+More than six months have passed away, and spring has come.
+Lucy Carne, strong and well again, is able to walk without even a trace of
+a limp.  Mona has grown an inch or two, has put up her hair, and
+lengthened her skirts.
+
+"You see I must learn to do it nicely by the time Miss Grace wants me,"
+she explained, when, on Christmas day, she appeared for the first time
+with it coiled about her head.  And, for a few weeks after, knew no peace
+of mind.  "I shall never keep it up," she sighed, "unless I take a hammer
+and nails and fix it to my head that way."
+
+Lucy complained that she spent a fortune in hairpins, and her father said
+he could always trace where Mona had been by the hairpins strewing the
+place.
+
+Lucy and she had been busy since the New Year came in making her uniform,
+blue print frocks, and large white linen aprons for the mornings, and a
+brown cloth dress and muslin aprons for the afternoons.  She was to have
+muslin caps too, and white collars and cuffs.
+
+"I don't think black is really more serviceable than any other colour,"
+Miss Lester had said when she came to talk to Lucy about Mona, "and I
+think I would like to have something new.  So I want my servants to wear
+a pretty warm brown."
+
+Mona was enraptured.  The idea of wearing a uniform was delightful enough,
+but to have one unlike what other servants wore was doubly attractive.
+And when, on top of that, Miss Grace had said she had been thinking a
+great deal about Mona's pretty suggestion for her wedding day, and would
+be very happy indeed if her Bible-class girls would carry it out, Mona
+thought that life was almost too full of happiness.  "I'm afraid I shall
+wake up and find it's all a dream," she said pathetically.  "Mother, I'm
+not dreaming, am I?"
+
+"And I would like to give you all the muslin to make your dresses of,"
+added Miss Grace.
+
+Lucy looked at her gratefully.  "It's too good of you, Miss, and you with
+so much else to think about, and such a lot to get.  I don't know how to
+thank you."
+
+"Then don't try," said Miss Grace.  "I understand.  I shall leave it to
+you," turning smilingly to Mona, "to provide the flowers you are going to
+throw."
+
+"Oh, we are all doing our best to get plenty of those," said Lucy.
+"There's a proper rivalry all through Seacombe, trying which of us can get
+the best.  There won't be any out-door roses, but we've all got bushes in
+our windows."
+
+Seacombe folk that spring tried to outdo each other in their cleaning,
+too.  As soon as the March winds died down, and the days grew light and
+fine such a fury of whitewashing and painting, scrubbing and polishing set
+in, as had never been known in Seacombe before.  By the middle of April
+there was not a whitewashing brush left, nor a yard of net for curtains.
+
+"It dazzles one to walk up the street when the sun shines," Dr. Edwards
+complained.  "What's the meaning of it all.  Is it any special year----"
+
+"It's your year, sir," laughed Lucy.  "That's the meaning of it!  It's all
+for your wedding day.  You see, sir, you have been so good to us all, we
+want to do what we can to show you and Miss Grace what we feel towards you
+both."
+
+Dr. Edwards was touched.  Seacombe folk did not talk much of their
+feelings, and he had never dreamed how much they felt.  "It is very, very
+kind of you all," he said, "and the knowledge will make us more happy than
+all our wedding presents put together."
+
+"And we are all praying, sir, that the day may be as perfect a one as ever
+anybody knew," chimed in Mrs. Row, who was standing close by.
+
+And surely no people ever had their prayers more graciously granted.
+The sun shone in a cloudless sky from morning till night.  A soft little
+breeze from the sea tempered the warmth, and set all the flags and
+streamers waving.  And as the bride walked down the churchyard path on her
+husband's arm, it blew the rose petals over her, pink, and crimson, and
+white.
+
+Mona, her wishes realised, wore a blue sash and forget-me-nots in her hat;
+Millie stood next her with pink roses in hers, and a pink sash.  Patty was
+a blue girl, and Philippa a pink one.  And though the baskets they carried
+held not so very many roses, they were flowing over with other flowers,
+for the girls had walked miles to gather bluebells and primroses, violets
+and delicate anemones, the air smelt sweetly of spring, and the joy of
+spring was in their faces, and in their hearts as well.
+
+And as the bride walked away down the path, Mona looked after her with
+tender, wistful eyes, and an unspoken prayer in her heart, that she might
+be given the grace, and the power to serve her new mistress well and
+loyally, and to do her share towards making her new life in her new home
+as happy as life could be.
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Making of Mona, by Mabel Quiller-Couch
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30402 ***
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+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30402 ***</div>
+
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+
+<h2>THE MAKING OF MONA</h2>
+
+<h4>By</h4>
+
+<h2>MABEL QUILLER-COUCH.</h2>
+
+<br><br><h5>AUTHOR OF "TROUBLESOME URSULA", "A PAIR OF RED-POLLS"</h5>
+<h5>"KITTY TRENIRE," "THE CARROLL GIRLS," ETC., ETC.</h5>
+<br><br><br>
+<h3>ILLUSTRATED BY E. WALLCOUSINS.</h3>
+
+
+
+<br><br><br>
+<h5>1919</h5>
+<h5> This etext prepared from a version published in 1919.</h5>
+
+<br><br><br>
+<h4>LONDON</h4>
+<h4>SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE</h4>
+<h4>NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h4>
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<center>
+<img alt = "Fig 1." src = "images/fig1.jpg"><br>
+<span class = "caption">"Granny stood staring at her broken treasures"</span>
+</center>
+
+
+<br><br><br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER LINKS</h2>
+<br><br><br>
+<center>
+<table summary="">
+<tbody><tr><td>
+
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0001">
+I.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0002">
+II.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0003">
+III.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0004">
+IV.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0005">
+V.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0006">
+VI.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0007">
+VII.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0008">
+VIII.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0009">
+IX.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0010">
+X.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0011">
+XI.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0012">
+XII.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0013">
+XIII.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0014">
+XIV.
+</a></p>
+</td></tr>
+</tbody></table>
+</center>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0001"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+
+
+<p>The kettle sat on the hob, and Mona sat on the floor, both as idle as idle
+could be.</p>
+
+<p>"I will just wait till the kettle begins to sing," thought Mona; and
+became absorbed in her book again.</p>
+
+<p>After a while the kettle, at any rate, seemed to repent of its laziness,
+for it began to hum softly, and then to hum loudly, and then to sing, but
+Mona was completely lost in the story she was reading, and had no mind for
+repentance or anything else.  She did not hear the kettle's song, nor even
+the rattling of its cover when it boiled, though it seemed to be trying in
+every way to attract her attention.  It went on trying, too, until at last
+it had no power to try any longer, for the fire had died low, and the
+kettle grew so chilly it had not even the heart to 'hum,' but sat on the
+black, gloomy-looking stove, looking black and gloomy too, and, if kettles
+have any power to think, it was probably thinking that poor old granny
+Barnes' tea would be scarcely worth drinking when she came home presently,
+tired and hungry, from her walk to Milbrook, for Mona, even if she
+realised that the water had boiled, would never dream of emptying it away
+and filling the kettle afresh, as she should do.</p>
+
+<p>But Mona had no thought for kettles, or tea, or granny either, for her
+whole mind, her eyes, her ears, and all her senses were with the heroine
+of the fascinating story she was absorbed in; and who could remember fires
+and kettles and other commonplace things when one was driving through a
+lovely park in a beautiful pony carriage, drawn by cream-coloured ponies,
+and seated beside an exquisitely dressed little lady who had more money
+than she could count, and insisted on sharing all with her companion?</p>
+
+<p>Mona certainly could not.  She never could manage to remember two things
+at the same time; so, as all her thoughts were absorbed by her
+golden-haired friend in the blue silk frock, granny in her old black
+merino and heavy boots was forgotten as completely as the fire, and it was
+not until someone came stumbling up the garden path and a tired voice
+said, "Well, dearie, I'm come at last, how have you got on since I've been
+gone?" that she remembered anything about either; and when she did she
+felt almost sorry that granny had come quite so soon, for if she had only
+been a few minutes later Mona might just have finished the chapter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm so tired!" groaned granny, dropping wearily into her arm-chair.
+"I have been longing for a nice cup of tea for this hour and more."
+Then, as her eyes fell on the black grate, her voice changed to one of
+dismay.  "Why, Mona!" she cried, "the fire's gone clean out!  Oh, dear!
+oh, dear!"  Granny's voice was full of disappointment.  With anyone but
+Mona she would have been very cross indeed, but she was rarely cross with
+her.  "I daresay it'll catch up again quickly with a few sticks,"
+she added patiently.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, really ashamed of herself, ran out to the little wood-rick which
+stood always in the back-yard.  "Stupid old fire," she muttered
+impatiently, "of course it must go out, just to spite me because I wanted
+to have a little read," and she jerked out the sticks with such force that
+a whole pile of faggots came tumbling down to the ground.  She did not
+stay, though, to pick them up again, for she really was sorry for her
+carelessness, and wanted to try and catch up the fire as quickly as
+possible.  She had fully meant to have a nice fire, and the tea laid,
+and the kettle on the point of boiling, and everything as nice as could be
+by the time her grandmother got back from the town.  But one never got any
+credit for what one meant to do, thought Mona with a feeling of self-pity.</p>
+
+<p>By the time she got back to the kitchen her grandmother had taken off her
+bonnet and shawl and was putting on her apron.  "My feet do ache," she
+sighed.  "The roads are so rough, and it's a good step to Milbrook and
+back&mdash;leastways it seems so when you're past sixty."</p>
+
+<p>Mona felt another pang of shame, for it was she who should have gone to
+the town to do the shopping; but she had not wanted to, and had complained
+of being tired, and so granny had gone herself, and Mona had let her.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me unlace your boots, granny, and get your slippers for you."
+She thought she would feel less guilty if she did something to make her
+grandmother more comfortable.  "You sit down in your chair, I'll do all
+that's got to be done."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes leaned back with a sigh of relief.  "Bless the dear child,"
+she thought affectionately, "how she does think for her old granny!"
+She had already forgotten that Mona had let the fire go out, and neglected
+to make any preparations for her home-coming; and Mona, who could be very
+thoughtful and kind if she chose, knelt down and unlaced the heavy boots,
+and slipped the warm, comfortable slippers on to the tired old feet,
+laughing and chattering cheerfully the while.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you are to sit there, gran, and not to dare to move to do one single
+thing.  I'm going to talk to that fire, and you'll see how I'll coax him
+up in no time, and if that kettle doesn't sing in five minutes I'll take
+the poker to him."  And, whether it was because of her coaxing or not,
+the fire soon flamed cheerfully, and the kettle, being already warm, began
+to sing almost as soon as Mona had got the cloth spread.</p>
+
+<p>While she waited for it to come to boiling point, she sat down on her
+little stool by the fire, and took up her book again.  "Just to have a
+little look at the pictures for a minute," she explained.  "Oh, granny, it
+is such a lovely story, I must tell you about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear, I'd like to&mdash;some day."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona did not hear the 'some day.' She was already pouring into
+granny's ear all she had read, and granny interjected patiently,
+"Yes, dearie," and "Oh my!" and "How nice!" though she was so faint and
+weary she could not take in half of Mona's chatter.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the kettle boiled again, but Mona was once more lost to
+everything but her story, and it was granny who got up and made the tea.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all ready, dearie," she said, as she sank into her chair once more.
+"You must tell me the rest while you are having it.  Oh, there's no butter
+out."  She had to get up again and drag her aching feet to the little
+larder for the butter, and as soon as she had settled herself again she
+had to get up and get a teaspoon.  Mona had forgotten a half of the things
+she should have laid, and she had forgotten, too, that granny was tired.</p>
+
+<p>"And oh, granny," she went on breathlessly, "on her birthday Pauline wore
+a muslin dress, with blue forget-me-nots worked all over it, and a blue
+sash, and&mdash;and a hat just covered with forget-me-nots."</p>
+
+<p>"She must have looked like a bed of them," remarked Granny.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>I</i> think she looked perfectly sweet!  I'd love to have clothes like
+she had.  Of course, she didn't have to do <i>any</i> work&mdash;nothing at all all
+day long."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I know a little girl who doesn't do much," remarked granny quietly,
+but Mona did not hear her.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny, do you think I'll be able to have a new hat this summer?
+Mine is ever so shabby&mdash;and shall I have forget-me-nots on it?  I'd rather
+have forget-me-nots than anything.  I suppose I couldn't have a blue sash
+to wear with it, could I, Gran?  I don't think they cost very very much.
+Millie Higgins, in at Seacombe, had a plaid one, and she was sure it
+didn't cost a great deal, she said.  Her uncle brought it to her,
+but Millie never wears it.  She doesn't like plaid; she wishes it was
+pink.  I'd wear it if 'twas mine, but I'd rather have a blue one.  Do you
+think I can have a new hat, granny?"</p>
+
+<p>"We will see.  If your father is able to send some more money for you I
+might be able to manage it; but with your stepmother always ailing his
+money seems to be all wanted for doctor's bills and medicines.  It does
+seem hard."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face fell.  "And I don't suppose the medicine does any good, do
+you, granny?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some folks believe in it, and I s'pose if you believe in it it does you
+good.  For my own part, I never had but two bottles in my life, and I
+don't see that I'm any the worse for going without.  In fact, I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mona, who always sat at the side of the table facing the window, sprang to
+her feet excitedly.  "Why, it's the postman! and he's coming in here,"
+she interrupted, and was at the door to meet him before he had power to
+knock.  She came back more slowly, carefully studying the one letter she
+held.  "It's from father," she said eagerly, as she at last handed it to
+her grandmother.  "Oh, granny!  I wonder if he has sent any money?"</p>
+
+<p>Granny was evidently surprised.  "A letter from your father!  Whatever can
+he be writing about?  I haven't written to him since I had his last.
+I hope he isn't having more trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he has written to know why you haven't," said Mona shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, granny, do make haste and open the letter, I am longing to know
+what's inside!"</p>
+
+<p>But letters did not come every day to Hillside Cottage, so when they did
+they must be made the most of.  Mrs. Barnes examined the envelope back and
+front; the handwriting, the stamp, the postmark; then she had to go to a
+drawer to get a skewer with which to slit the envelope, then her
+spectacles had to be found, polished, and put on, and at long last she
+took out the letter and began to read.</p>
+
+<p>Mona chafed with impatience as she watched her.  Her eyes looked ready to
+pop out of her head with eagerness.  "Why don't you let me read it to
+you?" she cried at last, irritably, and regretted her words as soon as
+they were spoken.  Granny laid the letter on the table beside her and
+fixed her eyes on Mona instead.  "I am not got past reading my own letters
+yet," she said sternly, looking out over the tops of her spectacles at
+her.  Mona was dreadfully afraid they would fall off, and then the
+polishing and fixing process would all have to be gone through again,
+but she had the wisdom to hold her tongue this time, and granny took up
+the letter again, and at last began to read it, while Mona tried hard to
+read granny's face.</p>
+
+<p>She did not utter aloud one word of what she was reading, but presently
+she gave a little half-suppressed cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, granny, what's the matter?"  Mona could keep quiet no longer.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear! oh, dear!  Here's a pretty fine thing.  Your father wants you
+to go home."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face fell again.  Then he had not sent any money, and she would not
+be able to have her hat!  For the moment nothing else seemed to matter.</p>
+
+<p>"What does he want me home for?" she asked sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Your stepmother has been ill again, and the doctor says she mustn't be
+left alone, and must have someone to help her.  She's terrible nervous
+when your father's away to the fishing, so you've got to be fetched home."
+Mrs. Barnes spoke resentfully.  Her daughter, Mona's mother, had died when
+Mona was a sturdy little maiden of ten, and for eighteen months Mona had
+run wild.  Her father could not bear to part with her, nor would he have
+anyone to live with them.  So Mona had been his housekeeper, or rather,
+the house had kept itself, for Mona had taken no care of it, nor of her
+father's comforts, nor of her own clothes, or his.  She just let
+everything go, and had a gloriously lazy, happy time, with no one to
+restrain her, or make her do anything she did not want to do.</p>
+
+<p>She was too young, of course, to be put in such a position; but she did
+not even do what she might have done, and no one was surprised, and no one
+blamed her father&mdash;no one, at least, but Mrs. Barnes&mdash;when at the end of
+eighteen months he married pretty, gentle Lucy Garland, one of the
+housemaids at the Squire's.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes, though, resented very strongly anyone being put in her dead
+daughter's place, with control over her daughter's child, and she had
+written angrily enough to Peter, demanding that Mona should be given up to
+her.  And though he doubted the wisdom of it, to please and pacify her,
+Peter Carne had let her have the child.  "Not for good," he said,
+"for I can't part with her altogether, but for a long visit."</p>
+
+<p>"If she puts Mona against Lucy, it'll be a bad job," he thought
+anxiously, "and mischief may be done that it'll take more than I know to
+undo."</p>
+
+<p>However, Mona felt none of the dislike of her stepmother that her
+grandmother felt.  In fact, she was too happy-go-lucky and fond of change
+to feel very strongly about anything.  She had got her father's home and
+all his affairs into such a muddle she was not sorry to go right away and
+leave it all.  She was tired of even the little housework she did.
+She hated having to get up and light the fire, and, on the whole, she was
+very glad for someone else to step in and take it all off her shoulders.
+And as she had left her home before her stepmother came to it, she had not
+experienced what it was to have someone in authority over her.</p>
+
+<p>So Mona felt no real grievance against her stepmother, and, with all her
+faults, she was too healthy-minded to invent one.  Her grandmother's not
+too kind remarks about her had fallen on indifferent ears, and,
+fortunately, had had no effect except to make Mona feel a sort of mild
+scorn for anyone so constantly ailing as Lucy Carne was.</p>
+
+<p>She felt no sympathy for the cause of the ill-health, even though she knew
+that it all began one bitter, stormy night when Lucy and the wives of the
+other men who were out at sea stood for hours watching for the first signs
+of the little storm-tossed boats, in the agony of their hearts, deaf and
+blind, and entirely unconscious of the driving sheets of rain and the
+biting east wind which soaked and chilled them to the bone.</p>
+
+<p>When at daybreak the storm lulled, and the boats, with all safe on board,
+were seen beating up before the wind, all the misery and wet and cold were
+forgotten as they hurried joyfully home to make up big fires and prepare
+hot food for the exhausted men.  But more than one woman paid heavily for
+the night's experience, and Lucy Carne was among them.</p>
+
+<p>For days she had lain writhing in the agony of rheumatic fever.  For days
+she had lain at the gates of death, and when at last she came back to
+life again, it was such a wreck of her old self that she was scarcely able
+to do anything.  And this in Granny Barnes' eyes had been an added
+grievance.</p>
+
+<p>It was a greater grievance than ever now, for it meant that her
+grandchild, her very own daughter's child, was to be taken from her, to
+work for the stranger who had taken her daughter's place.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, Mona had no such foolish thoughts.  Her only grievance was
+that the money which might have been spent on a new hat would have to be
+spent on the carrier.  "And nobody will be any the better for it, except
+Mr. Darbie, and he's got lots already.  They say he has a whole bagful in
+a box under his bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Your stepmother will be better off.  She'll have you," said Granny Barnes
+crossly.  "Well, the letter's spoilt my tea for me.  Anyway, I don't want
+anything more.  I've had enough for one while."</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked surprised.  "Oh, has it! I thought you were hungry, granny.
+I am," and she helped herself to another slice of bread and butter.
+"I wonder which day I'd better go?&mdash;and I must wear my best frock, mustn't
+I?  Such a lot of people go by the van, and you've got to sit so close you
+can't help seeing if anybody's clothes are shabby."</p>
+
+<p>"Um, you seem to have thought it all out, but you don't seem to think
+anything of leaving me, nor of what my feelings may be.  You'd better wear
+your best frock and your best hat too, then your father and your
+stepmother will see that you want something new for Sundays.  It's as well
+folk should learn that all the money can't be spent on doctors and
+physic&mdash;that there's other things wanted too!"</p>
+
+<p>But this speech only sent Mona's expectations higher, and lessened her
+regrets at leaving.  If going home to Seacombe and her new mother meant
+having a new hat and dress, she would only be the more pleased at having
+to go.  She was so occupied with these thoughts that she did not notice
+her grandmother rise and leave the kitchen, nor did she see the tears in
+the sad old eyes.  But her dreams of a journey, clad all in her best,
+were suddenly broken in upon by a sharp scream.  The scream came from the
+backyard.  Mona flew out at once.  It was getting dark out of doors now,
+but not too dark for her to see her grandmother stretched on the ground
+with faggots of wood lying all around her.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Mona's heart seemed to stand still with fear.  She thought
+her grandmother was killed, or, at any rate, had broken her leg.  Then, to
+her intense relief, Mrs. Barnes groaned, and began to rouse herself.</p>
+
+<p>"However did these things come scattered about like this, I should like to
+know," she cried angrily.  But in her relief at knowing she was able to
+move and speak Mona did not mind granny's crossness.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you pull them down?"</p>
+
+<p>"I pull them down." Granny's voice was shrill with indignation.  "It was
+they pulled me down!  I wonder I wasn't killed outright.  It must have
+been those cats that knocked them over.  They are always ranging all over
+the yard.  I shall tell Mrs. Lane if she can't keep them in she'll have to
+get rid of them.  Oh, dear, what a shaking I've had, and I might have
+broke my leg and my head and everything.  Well, can't you try an' give me
+a hand to help me up?"</p>
+
+<p>But Mona was standing dumb-stricken.  It had come back to her at last.
+It was she who had pulled down the faggots and left them.  She had meant
+to go out again and pick them up, and, of course, had forgotten about
+them, and she might have been the cause of a terrible accident!
+She was so shocked and so full of remorse, she could not find a word to
+utter.  Fortunately, it was dark, and her grandmother was too absorbed to
+notice her embarrassment.  All her time was taken up in getting on to her
+feet again and peering about her to try and catch sight of the cats.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps if granny had been less determined to wage war on the cats,
+Mona might have found courage to make her confession, but while she waited
+for a chance to speak her courage ebbed away.  She had done so many wrong
+things that afternoon, she was ashamed to own to more, and, after all, she
+thought, it would not make it better for granny if she did know who really
+scattered the faggots.  So in the end Mona held her tongue, and contented
+herself with giving what assistance she could.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Black Monday for me!" she said to herself as she helped her
+grandmother into the house again.  "Never mind, I'll begin better
+to-morrow.  There's one good thing, there's no real harm done."</p>
+
+<p>She was not so sure, though, that 'no harm was done' when she woke the
+next morning and heard loud voices and sound of quarrelling coming from
+the garden.  She soon, indeed, began to feel that there had been a great
+deal of harm done.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what I say is," her grandmother cried shrilly, "your cats were
+nearly the death of me, and I'll trouble you to keep them in your own
+place."</p>
+
+<p>"And what I say is," cried her neighbour, "my cats were never near your
+faggot rick.  They didn't go into your place at all last night; they were
+both asleep by my kitchen fire from three in the afternoon till after we'd
+had our supper.  Me and my husband both saw them.  You can ask him
+yourself if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't ask him.  I wouldn't stoop to bandy words about it.  I know, and
+I've a right to my own opinion."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say you don't believe what I say?" cried Mrs. Lane
+indignantly.  "Do you mean to tell me I'm telling an untruth?
+Well, Mrs. Barnes, if you won't speak to my husband, and won't believe me,
+perhaps you'll ask your Mona!  I daresay she can tell you how the faggots
+got scattered.  She was out there, I saw her from&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's right! Try and put it off on the poor child! Do you expect me to
+believe that my Mona would have left those faggots&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ask her, that's all," said Mrs. Lane, meaningly.  "And now I've done.
+I ain't going to have anything more to say.  You're too vi'lent and
+onreasonable, Mrs. Barnes, and I'll trouble you not to address me again
+till you've 'pologised."</p>
+
+<p>Granny laughed, a short sarcastic laugh.  "'Pologise!" she cried shrilly,
+"and me in the right too!  No, not if I lived next door to you for fifty
+years, I wouldn't 'pologise.  When you've 'pologised to me, Mrs. Lane,
+I'll begin to think about speaking to you again."</p>
+
+<p>Mona, standing shivering by the window, listened to it all with a sick
+feeling of shame and dismay.  "Oh, why does granny say such dreadful
+things!  Oh, I wish I'd spoken out at once!  Now, when granny asks me,
+I shall have to tell her, and oh," miserably, "won't she be angry?"</p>
+
+<p>But Mona escaped that ordeal.  Her grandmother did not mention the
+subject, for one reason; she felt too unwell; an outburst of anger always
+made her ill; and for another, she was already ashamed of herself and of
+what she had said.  Altogether, she was so uncomfortable about the whole
+matter, and so ashamed, and vexed, she wanted to try to forget all about
+it.</p>
+
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0002"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+<p>John Darbie and his one-horse van journeyed from Milbrook to Seacombe
+every Tuesday and Friday, passing Mrs. Barnes' cottage on their way;
+and on Wednesdays and Saturdays he journeyed home again.  The two places
+were only ten miles apart, but, as John's horse 'Lion' never travelled
+faster than three miles an hour, and frequent stops had to be made to pick
+up passengers and luggage, and put down other passengers and other
+luggage, the journey was seldom accomplished in less than six hours.</p>
+
+<p>The day that Mona travelled to Seacombe the journey took longer than
+usual, for they had to stop at Barnes Gate&mdash;an old turnpike&mdash;to pick up a
+couple of young pigs, which were to be brought by a farm boy to meet them
+there; and as the pigs refused to be picked up, and were determined to
+race back to their home, it took John and the farmer's boy, and some of
+the passengers, quite a long time to persuade them that their fate lay in
+another direction.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, homesick and depressed, was quite glad of the distraction, though
+she felt sorry for the poor pigs.  At that moment she felt sorry for
+anyone or anything which had to leave its old home for a new one.</p>
+
+<p>Only a few days had elapsed since that evening when her father's letter
+had come, and her grandmother had fallen over the faggots, but such long,
+unhappy days they had been.  Her grandmother had been silent and
+depressed, and she herself had been very unhappy, and everything had
+seemed wrong.  Sometimes she had longed to be gone, and the parting over.
+Yet, when at last the day came, and she had to say good-bye to granny,
+and her own little bedroom, and the cottage, and to leave without saying
+good-bye to Mrs. Lane, it seemed almost more than she could bear.
+She looked out at the cottage and at granny, standing waving her
+handkerchief, but she could scarcely see either because of the mist in her
+eyes, and, when at last the van turned a corner which cut them off
+entirely from view, the mist in her eyes changed to rain.</p>
+
+<p>If it had not been for the other people in the van, Mona would have jumped
+out and run back again, and have confessed all to granny, and have been
+happy once more.  She knew that if she asked granny to forgive her,
+she would do so before long, even if she was vexed with her at first.</p>
+
+<p>But Mona's courage failed her.  The people in the van would try to stop
+her, and very likely would succeed, and there would be such a chattering
+and fuss.  Her spirit sank at the thought of it, and so she hesitated and
+wavered until it was too late.</p>
+
+<p>It was not to be wondered at that she welcomed the little scene with the
+pigs at the four cross-roads, and felt quite glad when Mr. Darbie asked
+her to get out and stand at the end of one of the roads to keep the poor
+little things from running down it.</p>
+
+<p>"We shan't get to Seacombe till nightfall," grumbled the old man when at
+last he had got the pair into two sacks, and had fastened them up securely
+on the tail-board of the van.</p>
+
+<p>"And I've got to catch the five o'clock train from there," said one of the
+passengers sourly.  "If ever you want to be a little bit earlier than
+usual, you're bound to be later.  It's always the way."</p>
+
+<p>Old John Darbie always recovered his temper when other people had lost
+theirs.  He realised how foolish they looked and sounded.  "Aw, don't you
+worry, missus," he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
+"She'll wait for me.  They wouldn't let no train start 'fore me and my
+passengers was in!"</p>
+
+<p>All the rest of the passengers laughed, Mona too, at which the sour-faced
+woman glared at them angrily.  Then they jogged on again, and by that time
+Mona had recovered sufficiently to be able to take more interest in her
+surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>She noticed that the woman beside her, and the woman opposite her, were
+looking her up and down, and she felt very glad that she had on her best
+hat and dress.  She did wish, though, that she had mended the hole in her
+gloves, for one of the women seemed more attracted by them than by
+anything else, and it was really rather embarrassing.  She longed to put
+her hands behind her back to hide them, but that would have looked too
+pointed; so, instead, she turned round and looked out of the window,
+pretending to be lost to everything but the view.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very pretty road that they were travelling, but very hilly,
+and Lion's pace grew, if possible, even slower.  One or two of the
+passengers complained loudly, but Mona was enjoying herself thoroughly
+now.  To her everything was of interest, from the hedges and the ploughed
+fields, just showing a tinge of green, to the cottages and farms they
+passed here and there.  To many people each mile would have seemed just
+like the last, but to Mona each had a charm of its own.  She knew all the
+houses by sight, and knew the people who dwelt in some of them, and when
+by and by the van drew near to Seacombe, and at last, between a dip in the
+land, she caught her first glimpse of the sea, her heart gave a great
+leap, and a something caught in her throat.  This was home, this was her
+real home.  Mona knew it now, if she had never realised it before.</p>
+
+<p>At Hillside something had always been lacking&mdash;she could hardly have told
+what, but somehow, she had never loved the place itself.  It had never
+been quite 'home' to her, and never could be.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect you're tired, dear, ain't you?" the woman beside her asked in a
+kindly voice.  The face Mona turned to her was pale, but it was with
+feeling, not tiredness.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," she cried, hardly knowing what she felt, or how to put it into
+words.  "I was a little while ago&mdash;but I ain't now.  I&mdash;I don't think I
+could ever feel tired while I could see that!" She pointed towards the
+stretch of blue water, with the setting sun making a road of gold right
+across it and into the heaven that joined it.</p>
+
+<p>The woman smiled sadly.  "Are you so fond of it as all that!  I wish I
+was.  I can't abide it&mdash;it frightens me.  I never look at it if I can help
+it.  It makes me feel bad."</p>
+
+<p>"And it makes me feel good," thought Mona, but she was shy of saying so.
+"I think I should be ashamed to do anything mean when I was in sight of
+the sea," she added to herself.  And then the old horse drew up suddenly,
+and she saw that they had actually reached their journey's end.</p>
+
+<p>As she stepped down from the van and stood alone in the inn yard, where
+John Darbie always unloaded, and put up his horse and van, Mona for the
+first time felt shy and nervous.  She and her new mother were really
+strangers to each other.  They had met but once, and that for only a
+little while.</p>
+
+<p>"And p'raps we shan't get on a bit," thought Mona.  "P'raps she's very
+particular, and will be always scolding!" and she felt very miserable.
+And then, as she looked about her, and found that no one, as far as she
+could tell, had come to meet her, she began to feel very forlorn, and
+ill-used too.  All the sharp little unkind remarks about Lucy Carne, which
+had fallen from Granny Barnes' lips, came back to her mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I do think somebody might have come to meet me!" she said to herself, and
+being tired, and nervous, and a little bit homesick for granny, the tears
+rushed to her eyes.  Hastily diving in her pocket for her handkerchief,
+her fingers touched her purse, and she suddenly realised that she had not
+paid John Darbie his fare!  With a thrill and a blush at her own
+forgetfulness, she hurried back to where he was busy unloading his van.
+He had already taken down the pigs and some bundles of peasticks, and a
+chair which wanted a new cane seat, and was about to mount to the top to
+drag down the luggage which was up there, when he saw Mona waiting for
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Please, here's my fare.  I'm sorry I forgot it, and how am I to get my
+box up to my house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Get your box up?  Why the same way as you'll get yourself up.  Hop inside
+again, and I'll drive 'ee both up in a minute.  I promised your mother I
+would.  You hold on to your money now, it'll be time enough to settle up
+when I've done my job," and the old man chuckled amiably at his little
+joke.</p>
+
+<p>But Mona did not want to get back into the close, stuffy van again, and
+sit there in solitary state, with everyone who passed by staring at her.
+So, as soon as John Darbie was safely on the top and busy amongst the
+boxes there, she walked quietly out of the yard and into the street.</p>
+
+<p>How familiar it all was, and how unchanged!  After Milbrook&mdash;the little
+ugly new town, scarcely worthy the name of town&mdash;and the hamlet where her
+granny lived, the street and houses looked small and old-fashioned, but
+they looked homelike and strong.  The Milbrook houses, with their walls
+half a brick thick, and their fronts all bow-windows, would not have
+lasted any time in little stormy, wind-swept Seacombe.  Experience had
+taught Seacombe folk that their walls must be nearly as solid as the
+cliffs on which many of them were built, and the windows must be small and
+set deep in the walls; otherwise they were as likely as not to be blown in
+altogether when the winter storms raged; that roofs must come well down to
+meet the little windows, like heavy brows protecting the eyes beneath,
+which under their shelter, could gaze out defiantly at sea and storm.</p>
+
+<p>To Mona, seeing them again after many months' absence, the houses looked
+rough and poor, and plain; yet she loved them, and, as she walked up the
+steep, narrow street, she glanced about her with eager, glowing eyes.
+For the time her loneliness and nervousness were forgotten.  Here and
+there someone recognised her, but at that hour there were never many
+people about.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mona Carne! is it really you!  Well, your mother and father'll be
+glad to have you home again." Mona beamed gratefully on the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it really Mona," cried another.  "Why, now, you've grown!  I didn't
+know you till Mrs. Row said your name!"</p>
+
+<p>Mona began to feel less forlorn and ill-used, and she was more glad than
+ever that she had on her best clothes, and had put her hair up in squibs
+the night before.</p>
+
+<p>Outside one of the few shops Seacombe possessed, she drew up and looked in
+at the windows with interest.  They had improved a little.  The draper's
+was particularly gay with new spring things, and to Mona who had not seen
+a shop lately, unless she walked the three miles to Milbrook, the sight
+was fascinating.  One window was full of ties, gloves, and ribbons; the
+other was as gay as a garden with flowers of every kind and colour, all
+blooming at once.  Many of them were crude and common, but to Mona's eyes
+they were beautiful.  There were wreaths of wall-flowers, of roses, and of
+lilacs, but the prettiest of all to Mona was one of roses and
+forget-me-nots woven in together.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she gasped, "how I'd love to have that one!  Oh, I'd love it!"
+There were hats in the window, too.  Pretty, light, wide-brimmed hats.
+Mona's eyes travelled backwards and forwards over them till she saw one of
+the palest green straw, the colour of a duck's egg.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, wouldn't the roses and forget-me-nots look lovely on that, with just
+a bow of white ribbon at the back.  Oh, I wish&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's Mona Carne!" cried a voice behind her, and Mona, wheeling
+swiftly round, found Millie Higgins at her elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, who ever would have thought of meeting you strolling up the street
+just as though you had never been away!" cried Millie.  "But you've grown,
+Mona.  You are ever so much taller than when you went away, and your
+hair's longer too.  Do you think I am changed?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona was delighted.  She wanted to be tall, and she wanted to have nice
+long hair.  She had never cared for Millie Higgins before, but at that
+moment she felt that she liked her very much indeed, and they chattered
+eagerly to each other, lost to everything but the news they had to pour
+into each other's ears.</p>
+
+<p>After a little while, though, Millie tired of talking.  She wanted to get
+on, and what Millie wanted to do she generally did.  "I must fly&mdash;and
+there's your poor mother home worrying herself all this time to a
+fiddle-string, wondering what has become of you.  She expected the van an
+hour ago, and had got your tea all ready and waiting for you."</p>
+
+<p>Mona started guiltily, and then began to excuse herself.  "Well, we were
+late in coming, we were so long on the road.  Mr. Darbie said he'd drive
+me up, but I liked walking best.  If I had gone up by the van I shouldn't
+have been there yet, so it's all the same."</p>
+
+<p>"The van!  Why, it's gone by.  Only a minute ago, though.  If you run
+you'll be there almost as soon as he will."</p>
+
+<p>Without staying to say good-bye, Mona ran, but either Millie's minute had
+been a very long one, or 'Lion' had stepped out more briskly at the end of
+the day than at the beginning, for when Mona got to the house John Darbie
+was just coming away.  "Thank'ee, ma'am," he was saying, and Mona saw him
+putting some coins in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got the&mdash;&mdash;" she began to call out to him, but stopped, for her new
+mother came out to the gate, and looked anxiously down the hill.  She was
+looking for herself, Mona knew, and a fit of shyness came over her which
+drove every other thought from her mind.</p>
+
+<p>But almost as quickly as the shyness came it disappeared again, for Lucy's
+eyes fell on her, and, her face alight with pleasure, Lucy came forward
+with arms outstretched in welcome.  "Why, you poor little tired thing,
+you," she cried, kissing her warmly, "you must be famished!  Come in, do.
+I was quite frightened about you, for I've been expecting you this hour
+and more, and then when Mr. Darbie came, and brought only your box,
+it seemed as if I wasn't ever going to see you.  Come in, dear," drawing
+Mona's arm through her own, and leading her into the house.  "Sit down and
+rest a bit before you go up to see your room."</p>
+
+<p>Exhausted with excitement, and talking, and the extra exertion, Lucy
+herself had to sit down for a few minutes to get her breath.  Mona, more
+tired than she realised until she came to sit down, lay back in her
+father's big chair and looked about her with shy interest.  How familiar
+it all seemed, yet how changed.  Instead of the old torn, soiled drab
+paper, the walls were covered with a pretty blue one, against which the
+dresser and table and the old familiar china showed up spotless and
+dainty; the steel on the stove might have been silver, the floor was as
+clean and snowy as the table.</p>
+
+<p>Mona's memory of it all was very different.  In those days there had been
+muddle, dust, grease everywhere, the grate was always greasy and choked
+with ashes, the table sloppy and greasy, the floor unwashed, even unswept,
+the dressers with more dust than anything else on them.  Mona could
+scarcely believe that the same place and things could look so different.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how nice it all is," she said in a voice full of admiration, and Lucy
+smiled with pleasure.  She knew that many girls would not have admitted
+any improvement even if they had seen it.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we go upstairs now?" she said.  "I've got my breath again," and she
+led the way up the steep little staircase, which Mona remembered so well.</p>
+
+<p>"You know the way to your old room, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona walked ahead to it, but at the door she drew up with a cry of
+delight.  "Oh, Mother!" she turned to say with a beaming face, and without
+noticing that she had called her by the name about which she and granny
+had debated so long.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy noticed it though, and coloured with pleasure.  She had felt more shy
+than had Mona, about suggesting what her stepchild should call her.
+"Thank you, dear, for calling me that," she said, putting her arm about
+her and kissing her.  "I didn't know, I wondered how you would feel about
+it."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona was too delighted with everything she saw to feel anything but
+pleasure and gratitude then.  The walls had been papered with a pretty
+rose-covered paper, the shabby little bed had been painted white.
+Pretty pink curtains hung at the window, and beside the bed stood a small
+bookcase with all Mona's own books in it.  Books that she had left lying
+about torn and shabby, and had thought would have been thrown away, or
+burnt, long ago.  Lucy had collected them, and mended and cleaned them.
+And Lucy, who had brought to her new house many of the ideas she had
+gathered while in service at the Squire's, had painted the furniture white
+too, to match the bed.</p>
+
+<p>Mona had never in her life before seen anything so pretty and dainty.
+"Isn't it lovely!" she cried, sitting down plump on the clean white quilt,
+and crushing it.  "I can't believe it's for me."  She looked about her
+with admiring eyes as she dragged off her hat and tossed it from her,
+accidentally knocking over the candlestick as she did so.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy stooped and picked up both.  The candlestick was chipped, the hat was
+certainly not improved.</p>
+
+<p>"The chipped place will not show much," said Lucy in her gentle, tired
+voice, "but you've crushed the flowers in your hat."</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked at the hat with indifferent eyes.  "Have I? Oh, well, it's my
+last year's one.  I shall want a new one for the summer."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall you, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not notice the little anxious pucker of her mother's forehead.
+Carried away by all that had been done for her already, she had the
+feeling that money must be plentiful at Cliff Cottage.  Her father's boat
+had done well, she supposed.</p>
+
+<p>But before any more was said, a sound of footsteps reached them from
+below, and a loud voice, gruff but kindly, shouted through the little
+place "Lucy, where are you, my girl?  Has the little maid come?" and the
+next moment Mona was darting down the stairs and, taking the last in one
+flying leap, as in the old days, sprang into her father's arms.</p>
+
+<p>"My word!  What a big maid you are grown!" he cried, holding her a little
+way from him, and eyeing her proudly.  "Granny Barnes must have taken good
+care of you!  And now you've come to take care of Lucy and me.
+Eh!  Isn't that it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dad, that's it," cried Mona, excitedly, and sat back with all her
+weight on the pretty flowers and the fresh eggs that her grandmother had
+sent to Lucy by her.</p>
+
+<p>Her father looked vexed.  He knew how much his ailing wife enjoyed fresh
+eggs, and how seldom she allowed herself one, but he could not very well
+express his feelings just when Mona had come back to her home after her
+long absence, so he only laughed a little ruefully, and said, "Same as
+ever, Mona!  Same as ever!"</p>
+
+<p>But, to his surprise, tears welled up into Mona's eyes.  "I&mdash;I didn't mean
+to be," she said tremulously.  "I meant to try to be careful&mdash;but I&mdash;I've
+done nothing but break things ever since I came.  You&mdash;you'll be wishing
+you had never had me home."</p>
+
+<p>"We shan't do that, I know," said Lucy kindly.  "There's some days when
+one seems to break everything one touches&mdash;but they don't happen often.
+Now I'll make the tea.  I'm sure we all want some.  Come, Peter, and take
+your own chair.  There's no moving around the kitchen till we've put you
+in your corner.  Mona, will you sit in the window?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I ought to stand," said Mona tragically.  "I've sat down once too
+often already."</p>
+
+<p>At which they all burst out laughing, and drew round the table in the
+happiest of spirits.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+
+<p>From the moment she lay down in her little white bed, Mona had slept the
+whole night through.  She had risen early the day before&mdash;early at least,
+for her, for her grandmother always got up first, and lighted the fire and
+swept the kitchen before she called Mona, who got down, as a rule, in time
+to sit down to the breakfast her grandmother had got ready for her.</p>
+
+<p>On this first morning in her home she woke of her own accord, and
+half-waking, half-sleeping, and with not a thought of getting up, she
+turned over and was about to snuggle down into the cosy warmth again,
+when across her drowsy eyes flashed the light from her sunny window.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, how does the window get over there?" she asked herself, and then
+recollection came pouring over her, and sleepiness vanished, for life
+seemed suddenly very pleasant and interesting, and full of things to do,
+and see, and think about.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the clock in the church-tower struck seven.  "Only seven!
+Then I've got another hour before I need get up!  But I'll just have a
+look out to see what it all looks like.  How funny it seems to be back
+again!"  She slipped out of bed and across the floor to draw back the
+curtains.  Outside the narrow street stretched sunny and deserted.
+The garden, drenched with dew, was bathed in sunshine too.  But it was not
+on the garden or the street that her eyes lingered, but on the sea beyond
+the low stone wall on the opposite side of the way.  Deep blue it
+stretched, its bosom gently heaving, blue as the sky above, and the jewels
+with which its bosom was decked flashed and sparkled in the morning
+sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh-h-h!" gasped Mona.  "Oh-h-h!  I don't know how anyone can ever live
+away from the sea!"</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the sun, though, the morning was cold, with a touch of frost
+in the air which nipped Mona's toes, and sent her scuttling back to her
+bed again.  She remembered, joyfully, from the old days, that if she
+propped herself up a little she could see the sea from her bed.
+So she lay with her pillow doubled up under her head, and the bedclothes
+drawn up to her chin, and gazed and gazed at the sea and sky, until
+presently she was on the sea, in a boat, floating through waves covered
+with diamonds, and the diamonds came pattering against the sides of the
+boat, as though inviting her to put out her hands and gather them up,
+and so become rich for ever.  Strangely enough, though, she did not heed,
+or care for them.  All she wanted was a big bunch of the forget-me-nots
+which grew on the opposite shore, and she rowed and rowed, with might and
+main, to reach the forget-me-nots, and she put up a sail and flew before
+the wind, yet no nearer could she get to the patch of blue and green.</p>
+
+<p>"But I can smell them!" she cried.  "I can smell them!" and then
+remembered that forget-me-nots had no scent and realised that the scent
+was that of the wallflowers growing in her own garden; and suddenly all
+the spirit went out of her, for she did not care for what she could reach,
+but only for the unattainable; and the oars dropped out of her hands, and
+the diamonds no longer tapped against the boat, for the boat was still,
+and Mona sat in it disappointed and sullen.  The sun went in too,
+and nothing was the same but the scent of the flowers.  And then, through
+her sullen thoughts, the sound of her father's voice came to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona! Mona!  It's eight o'clock.  Ain't you getting up yet? I want you to
+see about the breakfast.  Your mother isn't well."</p>
+
+<p>Mona jumped up with a start, and felt rather cross in consequence.
+"All right, father," she called back.  "I'll come as soon as I can,"
+but to herself she added, in an injured tone, "I s'pose this is what I've
+been had home for!  Hard lines, I call it, to have to get up and light the
+fire the very first morning."</p>
+
+<p>Her father called through the door again.  "The fire's lighted, and
+burning nicely, and I've put the kettle on.  I lighted it before I went
+out.  I didn't call 'ee then, because I thought I heard you moving."</p>
+
+<p>Then her father had been up and dressed for an hour or two, and at work
+already!  A faint sense of shame crossed Mona's mind.  "All right,
+father," she called back more amiably, "I'll dress as quick as I can.
+I won't be more than a few minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a good maid," with a note of relief in his voice, and then she
+heard him go softly down the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>It always takes one a little longer than usual to dress in a strange
+place, but it took Mona longer than it need have done, for instead of
+unpacking her box the night before, and hanging up her frocks, and putting
+her belongings neatly away in their places, she had just tumbled
+everything over anyhow, to get at her nightdress, and so had left them.
+It had taken her quite as long to find the nightdress as it would have to
+lift the things out and put them in their proper places, for the garment
+was almost at the bottom of the box, but Mona did not think of that.
+Now, though, when she wanted to find her morning frock and apron, she grew
+impatient and irritable.  "Perhaps if I tip everything out on the floor
+I'll find the old things that way!" she snapped crossly.  "I s'pose I
+shan't find them until they've given me all the trouble they can,"
+and she had actually thrown a few things in every direction, when she
+suddenly stopped and sat back on her heels.</p>
+
+<p>"I've half a mind to put on my best dress again, then I can come and look
+for the old one when I ain't in such a hurry."  The dress&mdash;her best one&mdash;
+was lying temptingly on a chair close beside her.  She hesitated,
+looked at it again, and picked it up.  As she did so, something fell out
+of the pocket.  It was her purse, the little blue one her granny had
+bought for her at Christmas.  She picked it up and opened it, and as she
+did so the colour rushed over her face.  In one of the pockets was the
+eighteenpence which had been given to her to pay John Darbie with.
+"I&mdash;I suppose I ought to have given it to mother, but it went right out of
+my head."  She completed her dressing in a thoughtful mood, but she did
+find, and put on, her old morning dress.  "I suppose I had better tell
+her&mdash;about the money."  She put the blue purse in a drawer, however,
+and tossed in a lot of things on top of it.</p>
+
+<p>When at last she got downstairs it was already past half-past eight,
+and the fire was burning low again.  "Oh, dear," she cried, irritably,
+"how ever am I going to get breakfast with a fire like that and how am I
+to know what to get or where anything is kept. I think I might have had a
+day or two given me to settle down in.  I s'pose I'd better get some
+sticks first and make the fire up.  Bother the old thing, it only went out
+just to vex me!"</p>
+
+<p>She was feeling hungry and impatient, and out of tune with everything.
+At Hillside she would have been just sitting down to a comfortable meal
+which had cost her no trouble to get.  For the moment she wished she was
+back there again.</p>
+
+<p>As she returned to the kitchen with her hands full of wood, her mother
+came down the stairs.  She looked very white and ill, and very fragile,
+but she was fully dressed.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were too bad to get up," said Mona, unsmilingly.
+"I was going to bring you up some breakfast as soon as I could,
+but the silly old fire was gone down&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid it would.  That was why I got up.  I couldn't be still,
+I was so fidgeted about your father's breakfast.  He'll be home for it in
+a few minutes.  He's had a busy morning, and must want something."</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked glummer than ever.  "I never had to get up early at granny's,"
+she said in a reproachful voice.  "I ain't accustomed to it.  I s'pose I
+shall have to get so."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you let your grandmother&mdash;did your grandmother come down first and
+get things ready for you?" asked Lucy, surprised; and something in her
+voice, or words, made Mona feel ashamed, instead of proud of the fact.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny liked getting up early," she said, excusingly.  Lucy did not make
+any comment, and Mona felt more ashamed than if she had.</p>
+
+<p>"Hasn't father had his breakfast yet?" she asked presently.  "He always
+used to come home for it at eight."</p>
+
+<p>"He did to-day, but you see there wasn't any.  The fire wasn't lighted
+even.  He thought you were dressing, and he wouldn't let me get up.
+When he'd lighted the fire he went off to work again.  He's painting his
+boat, and he said he'd finish giving her her first coat before he'd stop
+again; then she could be drying.  I'll manage better another morning.
+I daresay I'll feel better to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy did look very unwell, and Mona's heart was touched.  "I wish father
+had told me earlier," she said in a less grumbling tone.  "I was awake at
+seven, and got up and looked out of the window.  I never thought of
+dressing then, it seemed so early, and I didn't hear father moving."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, dear, we will manage better another time.  It's nice having
+you home, Mona; the house seems so much more cheerful.  You will be a
+great comfort to us, I know."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's ill-temper vanished.  "I do want to be," she said shyly, "and I am
+glad to be home.  Oh, mother, it was lovely to see the sea again.
+I felt&mdash;oh, I can't tell you how I felt when I first caught a glimpse of
+it.  I don't know how ever I stayed away so long."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy laughed ruefully.  "I wish I loved it like that," she said, "but I
+can't make myself like it even.  It always makes me feel miserable."</p>
+
+<p>A heavy step was heard on the cobbled path outside, and for a moment a big
+body cut off the flood of sunshine pouring in at the doorway.
+"Is breakfast ready?" demanded Peter Carne's loud, good-tempered voice.
+"Hullo, Lucy!  Then you got up, after all!  Well&mdash;of all the obstinate
+women!"</p>
+
+<p>Lucy smiled up at him bravely.  "Yes, I've got down to breakfast.
+I thought I'd rather have it down here with company than upstairs alone.
+Isn't it nice having Mona home, father?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed.  "I ain't going to begin by spoiling the little maid with
+flattery, but yet, 'tis very," and he beamed good-naturedly on both.
+"Now, then, let's begin.  I'm as hungry as a hunter."</p>
+
+<p>By that time the cloth was laid, a dish of fried bacon and bread was
+keeping hot in the oven, and smelling most appetisingly to hungry folk,
+and the kettle was about to boil over.  Through the open doorway the
+sunshine and the scent of wallflowers poured in.</p>
+
+<p>"Them there wallflowers beat anything I ever came across for smell,"
+remarked Peter as he finished his second cup of tea.</p>
+
+<p>"I dreamed about wallflowers," said Mona, "and I seemed to smell them
+quite strong," and she told them her dream&mdash;at least a part of it.
+She left out about the forget-me-nots that she rowed and rowed to try and
+get.  She could not have told why she left out that part, but already a
+vague thought had come to her&mdash;one that she was ashamed of, even though it
+was so vague, and it had to do with forget-me-nots.</p>
+
+<p>All the time she had been helping about the breakfast, and all the time
+after, when she and her stepmother were alone again, she kept saying to
+herself, "Shall I give her the money, shall I keep it?" and her heart
+would thrill, and then sink, and inside her she kept saying, "There is no
+harm in it?&mdash;It is all the same in the end."  And then, almost before
+she knew what she was doing, she had taken the easy, crooked, downhill
+path, with its rocks and thorns so cleverly hidden.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona, haven't you got any print frocks for mornings, and nice aprons?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona's thoughts came back suddenly from "Shall I?  Shall I not?" and the
+eyes with which she looked at her mother were half shamed, half
+frightened.  "Any&mdash;any what?" she stuttered.</p>
+
+<p>"Nice morning aprons and washing frocks?  I don't like to see shabby,
+soiled ones, even for only doing work in."</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't thought about it," said Mona, with more interest.  "What else
+can one wear?  I nearly put on my best one, but I thought I hadn't
+better."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, not your best."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what else is there to wear?  Do you always have a print one like
+you've got on now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and big aprons, and sleeves.  Then one can tell when they are
+dirty."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I thought you put on that 'cause you were wearing out what you'd got
+left over.  You were in service, weren't you, before you married father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't got any print dresses.  I haven't even got a white one.
+I've two aprons like this," holding out a fanciful thing trimmed with
+lace.  "That's all, and I never saw any sleeves; I don't know what they
+are like."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to get you some as soon as father has his next big haul.
+You'd like to wear nice clean prints, if you'd got them, wouldn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" eagerly.  But after a moment she added: "I do want a summer
+hat, though, and I don't s'pose I could have both?"  Her eyes sought her
+mother's face anxiously.  Lucy looked grave and a little troubled.
+"Wasn't that your summer hat that you had on yesterday?  It was a very
+pretty one.  I'm so fond of wreaths of daisies and grasses, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I was&mdash;I'm tired of them now.  I wore that hat a lot last summer."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you?  Well, you kept it very nicely.  I thought it was a new one, it
+looked so fresh and pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to have one trimmed with forget-me-nots this year," Mona went on
+hurriedly, paying no heed to her mother's last remarks.</p>
+
+<p>"They are very pretty," agreed Lucy, absently.  In her mind she was
+wondering how she could find the money for all these different things.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got eighteenpence," broke in Mona, and the plunge was taken.
+She was keeping the eighteen-pence, though she knew it belonged either to
+her granny or to Lucy.  As soon as the words were spoken she almost wished
+them back again, but it was too late, and she went on her downhill way.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, if you'll get me the hat, I'll buy the wreath myself.  They've
+got some lovely ones down at Tamlin's for one and five three.  There are
+some at one and 'leven three, but that's sixpence more, and I haven't got
+enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, dear, we'll think about it.  It's early yet for summer hats."
+She was trying to think of things she could do without, that Mona might
+have her hat.  If she had been her own child, she would have told her
+plainly that she did not need, and could not have a new one, but it was
+not easy&mdash;as things were&mdash;to do that.</p>
+
+<p>Mona's heart leaped with joy.  Though she had known Lucy such a little
+while, she somehow felt that she could trust her not to forget.
+That when she said she would think about a thing, she would think about
+it, and already she saw with her mind's eye, the longed-for hat, the blue
+wreath, and the bow of ribbon, and her face beamed with happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"I can do without the aprons and the print frocks," she said, in the
+generosity of her heart, though it gave her a wrench.  But Lucy would not
+hear of that.  She had her own opinion about the grubby-looking blue
+serge, and the fancy apron, which were considered 'good enough' for
+mornings.</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear, you need them more than you need the hat.  If ever anyone
+should be clean it's when one is making beds, and cooking, and doing all
+that sort of thing, I think, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona had never given the subject a thought before.  In fact, she had done
+so little work while with her grandmother, and when she 'kept house'
+herself had cared so little about appearance or cleanliness, or anything,
+that it had never occurred to her that such things mattered.  But now that
+her stepmother appealed to her in this way she felt suddenly a sense of
+importance and a glow of interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! and I'll put my hair up, and always have on a nice white apron
+and a collar; they do look so pretty over pink frocks, don't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I must teach you how to wash and get them up."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"  Mona's interest grew suddenly lukewarm.  "I hate washing and
+ironing, don't you, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"I like other kinds of work better, perhaps.  I think I should like the
+washing if I didn't get so tired with it.  I don't seem to have the
+strength to do it as I want it done.  It is lovely, though, to see things
+growing clean under one's hand, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>But Mona had never learnt to take pride in her work.  "I don't know,"
+she answered indifferently.  "I should never have things that were
+always wanting washing."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy rose to go about her morning's work.  "Oh, come now," she said,
+smiling, "I can't believe that.  Don't you think your little room looks
+prettier with the white vallance and quilt and the frill across the window
+than it would without?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" Mona agreed enthusiastically.  "But then I didn't have to wash
+them and iron them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I had to, and I enjoyed it, because I was thinking how nice they
+would make your room look, and how pleased you would be."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see that.  If you were doing them for yourself, of course, you'd
+be pleased, but I can't see why anyone should be pleased about what other
+people may like."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mona! can't you?"  Lucy looked amazed.  "Haven't you ever heard the
+saying, 'there is more pleasure in giving than in receiving'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think I've heard it," said Mona, flippantly, "but I never saw any
+sense in it.  There's lots of things said that ain't a bit true."</p>
+
+<p>"This is true enough," said Lucy quietly, "and I hope you'll find it so
+for yourself, or you will miss half the pleasure in life."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't believe in any of those old sayings," retorted Mona,
+rising too.  "Anyway, receiving's good enough for me!" and she laughed
+boisterously, thinking she had said something new and funny.</p>
+
+<p>A little cloud rested for a moment on Lucy's face, but only for a moment.
+"It isn't nice to hear you speak like that, Mona," she said quietly,
+a note of pain in her voice, "but I can't make myself believe yet that you
+are as selfish as you make out.  I believe," looking across at her
+stepdaughter with kindly, smiling eyes, "that you've got as warm a heart
+as anybody, really."</p>
+
+<p>And at the words and the look all the flippant, silly don't-careishness
+died out of Mona's thoughts and manner.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, presently, when in her own little room again, she opened her little
+blue purse and looked in it, a painful doubt arose in her mind.  It was
+nice to be considered good-hearted, but was she really so?
+And unselfish?  "If I was, wouldn't I make my last year's hat do?
+Wouldn't I give back the eighteenpence?"  What tiresome questions they
+were to come poking and pushing forward so persistently.  Anyhow, her
+mother knew now that she wanted a hat, and she knew that she had the
+money, and that she was going to spend it on herself&mdash;and yet she had
+called her unselfish!</p>
+
+<p>And downstairs, Lucy, with an anxious face, and a weight at her heart, was
+thinking to herself, "If Mona had lived much longer the idle, selfish life
+she has been living, her character would have been ruined, and there is so
+much that is good in her!  Poor child, poor Mona!  She has never had a
+fair chance yet to learn to show the best side of her, and I doubt if I'm
+the one to teach her.  I couldn't be hard with her if I tried, and being
+her stepmother will make things more difficult for me than for most.
+I couldn't live in the house with strife.  I must try other means, and,"
+she added softly, "ask God to help me."</p>
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3>
+
+
+<p>For a while, after that talk with her mother, Mona worked with a will.
+She swept, and scrubbed, and polished the stove and the windows and helped
+with the washing and ironing, until Lucy laughingly declared there would
+soon be nothing left for her to do.</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what I want," declared Mona.  "I want you not to have
+anything to do.  Perhaps I can't manage the cooking yet, but I'll learn to
+in time."  Excited by the novelty and change, and buoyed up by the
+prospect of her new hat, and new frocks and aprons too, she felt she could
+do anything, and could not do enough in return for all that was to be done
+for her, and, when Mona made up her mind to work, there were few who could
+outdo her.  She would go on until she was ready to drop.</p>
+
+<p>As the spring days grew warmer, she would get so exhausted that Lucy
+sometimes had to interfere peremptorily, and make her stop.  "Now you sit
+right down there, out of the draught, and don't you move a foot till I
+give you leave.  I will get you a nice cup of tea, and one of my new
+tarts; they're just this minute ready to come out of the oven."</p>
+
+<p>A straight screen, reaching from floor to ceiling, stood at one side of
+the door, to keep off some of the draught and to give some little privacy
+to those who used the kitchen.  Mona dried her hands and slipped
+gratefully into the chair that stood between the screen and the end of the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother, this is nice," she sighed, her face radiant, though her
+shoulders drooped a little with tiredness.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it beautiful?  I love these sunny, quiet afternoons, when
+everything is peaceful, and the sea quite calm."  Her eyes looked beyond
+the little kitchen to the steep, sunny street outside, and beyond that
+again to where the blue sea heaved and glittered in the distance.
+The little window, as well as the door, stood wide open, letting in the
+scent of the sun-warmed wallflowers, and box, and boy's love.
+The bees buzzed contentedly over the beds.  One made his way in to Lucy's
+plants in the window.</p>
+
+<p>"I seem to smell the sea even through the scent of the flowers,"
+said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure I do.  I can't think how people can choose to live inland, can
+you, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose they choose, they just live where God has seen fit to
+place them&mdash;where their work lies."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I hope my work will always be in some place near the sea," said
+Mona decidedly.  "I don't think I could live away from it."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy smiled.  "I think you could, dear, if you made up your mind to it!
+I am sure you are not a coward."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see that it has got anything to do with being a coward or not,"
+objected Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"But indeed it has.  If people can't face things they don't like without
+grumbling all the time they are cowards.  It is as cruel and cowardly to
+keep on grumbling and complaining about what you don't like as it is brave
+to face it and act so that people never guess what your real feelings are.
+Think of my mother now.  She loved living in a town, with all that there
+is to see and hear and interest one, and, above all, she loved London.
+It was home to her, and every other place was exile.  Yet when, after they
+had been married a couple of years, her husband made up his mind to live
+right away in the country, she never grumbled, though she must have felt
+lonely and miserable many a time.  Her mother, and all belonging to her,
+lived in London, and I know she had a perfect dread of the country.
+She was afraid of the loneliness.  Then my father tried his hand at
+farming and lost all his savings, and after that there was never a penny
+for anything but the barest of food and clothing, and sometimes not enough
+even for that.  Well, I am quite sure that no one ever heard a word of
+complaint from mother's lips, and when poor father reproached himself,
+as he did very often, with having brought ruin on her, she'd say,
+'Tom, I married you for better or worse, for richer or poorer.  I didn't
+marry you on condition you stayed always in one place and earned so much a
+week.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Mother didn't think she was being brave by always keeping a cheerful face
+and a happy heart&mdash;but father did, and I do, now.  I understand things
+better than I did.  I can see there's ever so much more bravery in denying
+yourself day after day what you want, and bearing willingly what you don't
+like, than there is in doing some big deed that you carry through on the
+spur of the moment."</p>
+
+<p>Mona sat silent, gazing out across the flowers in the window to the sky
+beyond.  "There's ever so much more bravery in denying yourself what you
+want."  The words rang in her head most annoyingly.  Could Lucy have
+spoken them on purpose?  No, Mona honestly did not think that, but she
+wished she had not uttered them.  She tried to think of something else,
+and, unconsciously, her mother helped her.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to go to see mother on Monday or Tuesday, if I can.  Do you think
+you'll mind being left here alone for a few hours?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked round at her with a smile.  "Why, of course not!  I used to
+spend hours here alone.  I'll find plenty to do while you're gone.
+I'll write to granny, for one thing.  I promised I would.  I could take up
+some of the weeds in the garden, too."</p>
+
+<p>She was eager to do something for her stepmother, so that she herself
+would feel more easy in her mind about the one thing she could not summon
+up courage to do.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if you'll do a little weeding it'll be fine.  I'm ashamed to see our
+path, and the wallflowers are nearly choked, but I daren't do it.
+I can't stoop so long."</p>
+
+<p>On Sunday Mona went to Sunday school for the first time, and was not a
+little pleased to find that her last year's hat, with the daisy wreath,
+was prettier than any other hat there.  With every admiring glance she
+caught directed at it her spirits rose.  She loved to feel that she was
+admired and envied.  It never entered her head that she made some of the
+children feel mortified and discontented with their own things.</p>
+
+<p>"If they think such a lot of this one, I wonder what they'll think of me
+having another new one soon!"  To conceal the elation in her face,
+she bent over her books, pretending to be absorbed in the lesson.
+Miss Lester, the teacher, looked at her now and again with grave,
+questioning eyes.  She was wondering anxiously if this little stranger was
+going to bring to an end the peace and contentment of the class.
+"Is she going to make my poor children realise how poor and shabby their
+clothes are, and fill their heads with thoughts of dress?"  She said
+nothing aloud, however.  She was only a little kinder, perhaps, to the
+most shabby of them all.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, who had been quite conscious of her teacher's glances, never doubted
+but that they were glances of admiration, and was, in consequence,
+extremely pleased.  She returned home quite elated by her Sunday
+afternoon's experiences.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, at about eleven, Lucy started on her three mile walk to her
+mother's.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it too far for you?" asked Mona, struck anew by her stepmother's
+fragile appearance.  "Hadn't you better put it off till you're stronger?"</p>
+
+<p>But Lucy shook her head.  "Oh, no, I shall manage it.  If I go to-day I
+shall be able to have a lift home in Mr. Lobb's cart.  It's his day.
+So I shall only have three miles to walk, and I do want to see mother.
+She has been so bad again."</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not try any more to stop her, but bustled around helping her to
+get ready.  "If you hadn't been going to drive back, I'd have come to meet
+you.  Never mind, I expect I'll be very busy," and she smiled to herself
+at the thought of all she was going to do, and of the nice clean kitchen
+and tempting meal she would have ready by the time Mr. Lobb's cart
+deposited Lucy at the door again.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, don't do too much, and tire yourself out, dear," said Lucy,
+warningly.  "There isn't really much that needs doing," but Mona smiled
+knowingly.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Lucy had really started and was out of sight, she washed and
+put away the few cups and plates, and swept up the hearth.  Then, getting
+a little garden fork and an old mat, she sallied forth to the garden.
+There certainly were a good many weeds in the path, and, as the ground was
+trodden hard, they were not easy to remove.  Those in the flower beds were
+much easier.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do the beds first," thought Mona.  "After all, that's the right way
+to begin."  So she dug away busily for some time, taking great care to dig
+deep, and lift the roots right out.  "While I am about it, I may as well
+turn all the earth over to make it nice and soft for the flowers.
+I don't know how they ever manage to grow in such hard, caked old stuff,
+poor little things."</p>
+
+<p>Here and there a 'poor little thing' came up root and all, as well as the
+weed, or instead of it, but Mona quickly put it back again, and here and
+there one had its roots torn away and loosened.  In fact, most of Lucy's
+plants found themselves wrenched from the cool, moist earth they loved,
+and their hold on life gone.  Presently Mona came to a large patch of
+forget-me-nots.  The flowers were not yet out, but there was plenty of
+promise for by and by.  It was not, though, the promise of buds, nor the
+plant itself which caused Mona to cease her work suddenly, and sit back on
+her heels, lost in thought.</p>
+
+<p>"I've a good mind to go down now this minute and get it," she exclaimed
+eagerly, "while mother's away.  Buying a hat won't seem much if she hasn't
+got to buy the trimmings.  And&mdash;and if&mdash;if I don't get the wreath,
+Mr. Tamlin may&mdash;may sell it before mother goes there."</p>
+
+<p>This fear made her spring from her knees.  Without any further hesitation,
+she rushed, into the house, washed and tidied herself, got her blue purse
+from the drawer in which it was still hidden, and in ten minutes from the
+moment the thought first struck her she was hurrying down the street,
+leaving the mat and the fork where she had been using them.  But she could
+think of nothing.  Indeed, she could scarcely breathe for excitement until
+she reached Tamlin's shop, and, to her enormous relief, saw the blue
+wreaths still hanging there.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, it is much the best way to buy it now and take it home,"
+Mona argued with herself.  "It will only get dirty and faded where it is."</p>
+
+<p>She felt a little nervous at entering the big shop by herself, especially
+as she seemed to be the only customer, and the attendants had no one else
+at whom to stare.  She went up to the one who had the pleasantest smile
+and looked the least grand of them all.</p>
+
+<p>"Forget-me-nots?  Oh, yes, dear, we have some lovely flowers this season,
+all new in.  Perhaps you'd prefer roses.  We have some beautiful roses,
+pink, red, yellow, and white ones&mdash;and wreaths, we have some sweet
+wreaths, moss and rose buds, and sweet peas and grasses."  She proceeded
+to drag out great boxes full of roses of all shapes and kinds.
+Mona looked at them without interest.  "No, thank you I want
+forget-me-nots."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, there's no harm in looking at the others, is there?  I've got
+some sweet marg'rites too.  I'll show you.  P'raps you'll change your mind
+when you see them.  Blue ties you so, doesn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've got daisies on a hat already.  I'm tired of them.  I want something
+different."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, we all like a change, don't we?  I'll show you a wreath&mdash;
+perfectly sweet it is, apple-blossom and leaves; it might be real, it's so
+perfect."  And away she went again for another box.</p>
+
+<p>Mona felt as though her eighteenpence was shrivelling smaller and smaller.
+It seemed such a ridiculously small sum to have come shopping with, and
+she wished she had never done so.  The girl dropped a huge box on the
+counter, and whipped the cover off.  She was panting a little from the
+weight of it.  Mona longed to sink out of sight, she was so ashamed of the
+trouble she was giving, and only eighteenpence to spend after all!</p>
+
+<p>"There, isn't that sweet, and only three and eleven three."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona was by this time feeling so ashamed and bothered and
+uncomfortable, she would not bring herself to look at the flowers.
+"Yes, thank you, it's very pretty, but&mdash;but&mdash;it's too dear&mdash;and&mdash;I want
+forget-me-nots."</p>
+
+<p>Then, summoning up all the courage she had left,  "You've got some wreaths
+for one and fivepence three-farthings; it's one of those I want."</p>
+
+<p>The girl's face changed, and her manner too.  "Oh, it's one of the cheap
+wreaths you want, like we've got in the window," and from another box she
+dragged out one of the kind Mona had gazed at so longingly, and, without
+handing it to her to look at, popped it into a bag, screwed up the top,
+and pushed it across the counter.  "One and five three," she snapped
+rudely, and, while Mona was extracting her eighteenpence from her purse,
+she turned to another attendant who had been standing looking on and
+listening all the time.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Jones, dear, will you help me put all these boxes away."</p>
+
+<p>Mona noticed the sneer in her voice, the glances the two exchanged.
+She saw, too, Miss Jones's pitying smile and toss of her head, and she
+walked out of the shop with burning cheeks and a bursting heart.
+She longed passionately to throw down the wreath she carried and trample
+on it&mdash;and as for Tamlin's shop!  She felt that nothing would ever induce
+her to set foot inside it again.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mona, as she hurried up the street with her longed-for treasure&mdash;now
+detestable in her eyes&mdash;all the sunshine and happiness seemed to have gone
+out of her days.  She went along quickly, with her head down.  She felt
+she did not want to see or speak to anyone just then.  She hurried through
+the garden, where the patch of newly-turned earth was already drying under
+the kiss of the sun, and the wallflowers were beginning to droop, but she
+saw nothing of it all.  She only wanted to get inside and shut and bolt
+the door, and be alone with herself and her anger.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" she cried passionately, flinging the wreath across the kitchen,
+"take that! I hate you&mdash;I hate the sight of you!"  She would have cried,
+but that she had made up her mind that she would not.  "I'll never wear
+the hateful thing&mdash;I couldn't!  If I was to meet that girl when I'd got it
+on I&mdash;I'd never get over it!  And there's all my money gone; wasted, and&mdash;
+and&mdash;&mdash;"  At last the tears did come, in spite of her, and Mona's heart
+felt relieved.</p>
+
+<p>She picked out the paper bag from inside the fender, and, carrying it
+upstairs, thrust it inside the lid of her box.  "There! and I hope I'll
+never see the old thing ever any more, and then, p'raps, in time I'll
+forget all about it."</p>
+
+<p>As she went down the stairs again to the kitchen she remembered that her
+father would be home in a few minutes to his dinner, and that she had to
+boil some potatoes.  "Oh, dear&mdash;I wish&mdash;I wish&mdash;&mdash;"  But what was the use
+of wishing!  She had the forget-me-nots she had so longed for&mdash;and what
+was the result!</p>
+
+<p>"I'll never, never wish for anything again," she thought ruefully,
+"but I suppose that wishing you'd got something, and wishing you
+hadn't forgot something, are two different things, though both make you
+feel miserable," she added gloomily.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment she sat, overwhelmed by all that she had done and had left
+undone.  The emptiness and silence of the house brought to her a sense of
+loneliness.  The street outside was empty and silent too, except for two
+old women who walked by with heavy, dragging steps.  One of the two was
+talking in a patient, pathetic voice, but loudly, for her companion was
+deaf.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no cure for trouble like work, I know that.  I've had more'n my
+share of trouble, and if it hadn't been that I'd got the children to care
+for, and my work cut out to get 'em bread to eat, I'd have give in;
+I couldn't have borne all I've had to bear&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The words reached Mona distinctly through the silence.  She rose to her
+feet.  "P'raps work'll help me to bear mine," she thought bitterly.
+"When my man and my two boys was drowned that winter, I'd have gone out of
+my mind if I hadn't had to work to keep a home for the others&mdash;&mdash;"
+The voices died away in the distance, and Mona's bitterness died away too.</p>
+
+<p>"Her man, and her two boys&mdash;three of them dead, all drowned in one day&mdash;
+oh, how awful!  How awful!"  Mona's face blanched at the thought of the
+tragedy.  The very calmness with which it was told made it seem worse,
+more real, more inevitable.  Even the sunshine and peace about her made it
+seem more awful.  Compared with such a trouble, her own was too paltry.
+It was not a trouble at all.  She felt ashamed of herself for the fuss she
+had been making, and without more ado she bustled round to such good
+purpose that when her father returned to his meal she had it all cooked
+and ready to put on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a good maid," he said, encouragingly.  "Why, you've grown a
+reg'lar handy little woman.  You'll be a grand help to your poor mother."</p>
+
+<p>"I do want to be," said Mona, but she did not feel as confident about it
+as her father did.  "I'm going to have everything ready for her by the
+time she gets home."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right, I shan't be home till morning, most likely, so you'll have
+to take care of her.  She'll be fairly tired out, what with walking three
+miles in the sun, and then being rattled about in Mr. Lobb's old cart.
+The roads ain't fit for a horse to travel over."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think she'd be here about six, shouldn't she, father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's about the old man's time, but there's no reckoning on him for
+certain.  He may have to go a mile or more out of his way, just for one
+customer."</p>
+
+<p>Apparently that was what he had to do that day, for six came and went, and
+seven o'clock had struck, and darkness had fallen before the cart drew up
+at Cliff Cottage, and Lucy clambered stiffly down from her hard,
+uncomfortable seat.</p>
+
+<p>She was tired out and chilly, but at the sound of the wheels the cottage
+door was flung open, letting out a wide stream of cheerfulness, which made
+her heart glow and drove her weariness away.  Inside, the home all was
+neat and cosy, the fire burned brightly, and the table was laid ready
+for a meal.  Lucy drew a deep breath of happiness and relief.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is nice to get home again," she sighed contentedly, "and most of
+all to find someone waiting for you, Mona dear."</p>
+
+<p>And Mona's heart danced with pleasure and happy pride.  She felt well
+repaid for all she had done.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Mona woke the next morning she felt vaguely that something was
+missing.  "Why it's the smell of the wallflowers!" she cried, after lying
+for some minutes wondering what it could be.  But in her new desire to get
+dressed and downstairs early she did not give the matter another thought.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy, coming down later, stepped to the door for a moment to breathe in
+the sunshine and sweet morning air.  "Oh," she cried, and her voice rang
+out sharply, full of dismay, "Oh, Mona, come quick.  Whatever has happened
+to our wallflowers!  Why, look at them!  They are all dead!  Oh, the poor
+things!  Someone must have pulled them up in sheer wickedness!  Isn't it
+cruel?  Isn't it shameful!"</p>
+
+<p>Mona, rushing to the door to look, found Lucy on her knees by the dying
+plants, the tears dropping from her eyes.  Only yesterday they were so
+happy and so beautiful, a rich carpet of brown, gold, tawny, and crimson,
+all glowing in the sunshine, and filling the air with their glorious
+scent&mdash;and now!  Oh, it was pitiful, pitiful.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll fill a tub with water and plunge them all in," cried Lucy,
+frantically collecting her poor favourites&mdash;then suddenly she dropped
+them.  "No, no, I won't, I'll bury them out of sight.  I could never give
+them new life.  Oh, who could have been so wicked?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona was standing beside her, white-faced and silent.  At her mother's
+last question, she opened her lips for the first time.  "I&mdash;I did it,"
+she gasped in a horrified voice.  "I&mdash;didn't know, I must have done it
+when I was weeding.  Oh, mother, I am so sorry.  What can I do&mdash;oh,
+what can I do!"</p>
+
+<p>"You!  Oh, Mona!"  But at the sight of Mona's distress Lucy forgot her
+own.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind.  It can't be helped.  'Twas an accident, of course, and no
+one can prevent accidents.  Don't fret about it, dear.  Of course,
+you wouldn't have hurt them if you'd known what you were doing!"</p>
+
+<p>But her words failed to comfort Mona, for in her inmost heart she knew
+that she should have known better, that she could have helped it.
+It was just carelessness again.</p>
+
+<p>"They wouldn't have lasted more than a week or two longer, I expect,"
+added Lucy, consolingly, trying to comfort herself as well as Mona.
+"Now, we'll get this bed ready for the ten-weeks stocks.  It will do the
+ground good to rest a bit.  I daresay the stocks will be all the finer for
+it later on."  But still Mona was not consoled.</p>
+
+<p>"If I hadn't run away and left them to go and buy that hateful wreath,"
+she was thinking.  "If only I had remembered to press the earth tight
+round them again&mdash;if&mdash;if only I'd been more careful when I was weeding,
+and&mdash;if, if, if!  It's all ifs with me!"  Aloud, she said bitterly,
+"I only seem to do harm to everything I touch.  I'd better give up!
+If I don't do anything, p'raps I shan't do mischief."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy laughed.  "Poor old Paddy," she cried.  "Why, you couldn't live and
+not do anything.  Every minute of your life you are doing something, and
+when you are doing what you call 'nothing' you will be doing mischief,
+if it's only in setting a bad example.  And you can work splendidly if you
+like, Mona, and you <i>do</i> like, I know.  I shan't forget for a long while
+how nice you'd got everything by the time I came home last night, and how
+early you got up this morning."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face brightened.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got to learn to think, that's all, dear; and to remember to finish
+off one thing before you leave it to go to another.  It's just the want of
+that that lies at the root of most of your trouble."</p>
+
+<p>A sound of many feet hurrying along the street and of shouting voices made
+Lucy break off suddenly, and sent them both running to the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Boats are in sight, missis.  Fine catch!" called one and another as they
+hurried along.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Mona looked at each other with glad relief in their eyes.
+There had been no real cause for anxiety because the little fishing fleet
+had not been home at dawn, yet now they knew that they had been a little
+bit anxious, Lucy especially, and their pleasure was all the greater.
+For a moment Mona, in her excitement, was for following the rest to the
+quay where the fish would be landed.  It was so exciting, such fun, to be
+in all the bustle of the unloading, and the selling&mdash;and to know that for
+a time, at any rate, money would not be scarce, and rent and food and
+firing would be secure.</p>
+
+<p>Mona loved nothing better than such mornings as this&mdash;but her first step
+was her last.  "I won't remember 'too late' this time," she said to
+herself determinedly, and turning, she made her way quickly into the
+house.  There would be more than enough to do to get ready.  There would
+be hot water, dry clothes, and a hot breakfast to get for the tired, cold,
+famished father.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you sit down, mother, and stoke the fire, I'll see to the rest," and
+for the next hour she flew around, doing one thing after another, and as
+deftly as a woman.  She was so busy and so happy she forgot all about the
+beach and the busy scene there, the excitement, and the fun.</p>
+
+<p>But before Lucy did any 'stoking' she went out with a rake and smoothed
+over the rough earth of the empty wallflower bed.  "If it's looking tidy,
+perhaps he won't notice anything's wrong when he first comes home,"
+she thought.  "When he's less tired he'll be able to bear the
+disappointment better."  She knew that if he missed his flowers one of his
+chief pleasures in his homecoming would be gone, and she almost dreaded to
+hear the sound of his footsteps because of the disappointment in store for
+him.  Because she could not bear to see it, she stayed in the kitchen,
+and only Mona went out to meet him.  Lucy heard his loved voice, hoarse
+and tired, but cheerful still.  "Hullo, my girl!" he cried, "how's mother,
+and how 'ave 'ee got on?  I was 'fraid she'd be troubling.  Hullo!  Why,
+what's happened to our wallflowers?"</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of the dismay in his voice, Lucy had to go out.  "Poor Mona,"
+she thought, "it's hard on her!  Why, father!" she cried brightly,
+standing in the doorway with a glad face and happy welcome.  "We're so
+glad to see you at last.  Make haste in, you must be tired to death, and
+cold through and through.  Mona's got everything ready for you, as nice as
+can be.  She's worked hard since we heard the boats were come.  We've all
+got good appetites for our breakfast, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>Then, in his pleasure at seeing his wife and child again, Peter Carne
+forgot all about his flowers.  Putting his arms around them both, he gave
+them each a hearty kiss, and all went in together.  "I ain't hardly fit
+to," he said, laughing, "but you're looking as fresh and sweet as two
+daisies this morning."</p>
+
+<p>Diving his hand deep into his pocket, he drew out a handful of gold and
+silver.  "Here, mother, here's something you'll be glad of!  Now, Mona, my
+girl," as he dropped into his arm-chair, "where's my old slippers?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona picked them up from the fender, where they had been warming, and,
+kneeling down, she pulled off his heavy boots.  Once more she was filled
+with the feeling that if she could only do something to make up for the
+harm she had done she would not feel so bad.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank'ee, little maid.  Oh, it's good to be home again!"  He leaned back
+and stretched his tired limbs with a sigh of deep content.  "But I mustn't
+stop here, I must go and have a wash, and change into dry things before I
+have my breakfast.  I can tell you, I'm more than a bit hungry.  When I've
+had it I've got to go down and clean out the boat."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not till you've had a few hours' sleep," coaxed Lucy.  "You must have
+some rest, father.  I've a good mind to turn the key on you."</p>
+
+<p>Her husband laughed too.  "There's no need for locks and keys to-day,"
+he said, ruefully.  "If I was to start out I believe I'd have to lie down
+in the road and have a nap before I got to the bottom of the street.
+I'll feel better when I've had a wash."</p>
+
+<p>As he stumbled out of the kitchen Lucy picked up the coins lying on the
+table, and put them in a little locked box in the cupboard.  Mona, coming
+back into the kitchen from putting her father's sea-boots away, saw that
+there seemed to be quite a large sum.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I have my new hat?" she wondered eagerly.  "There's plenty of money
+now."  But Lucy only said, "I'll have to get wool to make some new
+stockings for your father, and a jersey, and I'll have to go to Baymouth
+to get it.  Mr. Tamlin doesn't keep the right sort.  Can you knit
+stockings, Mona?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye&mdash;es, but I hate&mdash;&mdash;"  She drew herself up sharply.  "Yes, I can, but
+I'd rather scrub, or sweep, or&mdash;or anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, I'll make them.  I'm fond of all that kind of work.
+I'll have to be quick about the jersey, for I see that one he's got on has
+a great hole in the elbow, and he's only got his best one besides.
+I'd better go to Baymouth on Wednesday.  It won't do to put it off."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could take you with me," she said to Mona regretfully when the
+Wednesday came, and she was getting ready to start.  "I would, only your
+father thinks he'll be back about tea-time, and he'll need a hot meal when
+he comes.  Never mind, dear, you shall go next time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;h&mdash;that's all right." Mona tried to speak cheerfully, but neither
+face nor voice looked or sounded all right!  The thought uppermost in her
+mind was that there was no chance of her having her new hat.  Her mother
+could not get that unless she was there to try it on.</p>
+
+<p>She saw her mother off, and she did try to be pleasant, but she could not
+help a little aggrieved feeling at her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny would have bought me one before now," she said to herself.
+She did really want not to have such thoughts.  She still felt mean and
+uncomfortable about the wreath, and in her heart she knew that her
+stepmother was kinder to her than she deserved.</p>
+
+<p>When she had done the few things she had to do, and had had her dinner,
+and changed her frock, she went out into the garden.  It would be less
+lonely there, she thought, and she could weed the path a little.
+She would never touch one of the flower beds again!  Before she had been
+out there long, Millie Higgins came down the hill.  At the sight of Mona,
+Millie drew up.  "So you ain't gone to Baymouth too?" she said, leaning
+over the low stone wall, and evidently prepared for a talk.  "I saw your
+mother starting off.  Why didn't she take you with her?  You'd have liked
+to have gone, wouldn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Mona admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, why didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody had to be here to look after father.  He'll be home before
+mother gets back."</p>
+
+<p>Millie Higgins snorted sarcastically.  "Very nice for some people to be
+able to go off and enjoy themselves and leave others to look after things
+for them!  If I were you I'd say I'd like to go too."</p>
+
+<p>Mona resented Millie's tone.  A sense of fairness rose within her too.
+"If I'd said I wanted to go, I daresay I could have gone," she retorted
+coldly.  "I'm going another time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, are you?  Well, that's all right as long as you are satisfied,"
+meaningly.  "Good-bye," and with a nod Millie took herself off.
+But before she had gone more than a few paces she was back again.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on out and play for a bit, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to," Mona hesitated, "but I don't know for certain what time
+father'll get back."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I do!  I know they won't be home yet awhile.  They'll wait till the
+tide serves.  Come along, Mona, you might as well come out and play for
+half an hour as stick moping here.  You might spend all your life waiting
+about for the old boats to come in, and never have a bit of pleasure if
+you don't take it when you can.  We'll go down to the quay, then you'll be
+able to see the boats coming.  After they're in sight there'll be heaps of
+time to run home and get things ready."</p>
+
+<p>The temptation was great, too great.  Mona loved the quay, and the life
+and cheerfulness there.  Towards evening all the children in the place
+congregated there, playing 'Last touch,' 'Hop-Scotch,' and all the rest of
+the games they loved, to a chorus of shouts, and screams, and laughter.
+Then there was the sea to look at too, so beautiful and grand, and
+awe-inspiring in the fading light.  Oh, how dearly she loved it all!</p>
+
+<p>In her ears Millie's words still rang: "You might spend all your life
+waiting about for the old boats, and never have a bit of pleasure, if you
+don't take it when you can."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute," she said eagerly, "I'll just put some coal on the fire
+and get my hat."</p>
+
+<p>She banked up a good fire, unhung her hat, and, pulling the door after
+her, ran out to Millie again, "I'm ready now," she said excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>When they arrived at the quay they received a very warm welcome; they were
+just in time to take part in a game of 'Prisoners.'  After that they had
+one of 'Tip,' and one or two of 'Hop-Scotch,' then 'Prisoners' again; and
+how many more Mona could never remember, for she had lost count of time,
+and everything but the fun, until she was suddenly brought to her senses
+by a man's voice saying, "Well, it's time they were in, the clock struck
+seven ten minutes agone."</p>
+
+<p>"Seven!" Mona was thunderstruck.  "Did you say seven?" she gasped, and
+scarcely waiting for an answer she took to her heels and tore up the
+street to her home.  Her mind was full of troubled thoughts.  The fire
+would be out, the house all in darkness.  She had only pulled the front
+door behind her, she had not locked it.  Oh, dear! what a number of things
+she had left undone!  What a muddle she had made of things.  When, as she
+drew near the house, she saw a light shining from the kitchen window, her
+heart sank lower than ever it had done before.</p>
+
+<p>"Father must have come!  Oh! and me not there, and&mdash;and nothing ready.
+Oh, I wouldn't have had it happen for anything."  She rushed up to the
+house so fast and burst into the kitchen so violently that her mother, who
+was sitting in her chair, apparently lost in thought, sprang up in alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mona! it's you!  You frightened me so, child.  Where's your father,"
+she asked anxiously.  "Haven't you seen him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he hasn't come yet."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy's face grew as white as a lily.  Her eyes were full of terror, which
+always haunted her.  "P'raps he came home while you were out, and went out
+again when he found the house empty."</p>
+
+<p>"He couldn't.  I've been on the quay all the time.  The boats couldn't
+have come in without my seeing them.  I was waiting for him.  Everybody
+was saying how late they were.  They couldn't think why."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;they are dreadfully late&mdash;but I&mdash;I didn't think you'd have gone out
+and left the house while I was away," said Lucy with gentle reproach.
+"But, as you did, you should have locked the door behind you.  I s'pose
+Mr. King called before you left?"</p>
+
+<p>"He hasn't been," faltered Mona, her heart giving a great throb.  She had
+entirely forgotten that the landlord's agent was coming for his rent that
+afternoon.  "The money's on the dresser.  I put it there."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it? I couldn't see it.  I looked for it at once when I found the door
+wide open and nobody here."</p>
+
+<p>"Open!  I shut it after me.  I didn't lock it, but I pulled the door fast
+after me.  You can't have looked in the right place, mother.  I put it by
+the brown jug."  And, never doubting but that her mother had overlooked
+it, Mona searched the dressers herself.  But there was no money on them,
+not even a farthing for the baker.  "But I put it there!  I put it there
+myself!" she kept repeating more and more frantically.  She got upon a
+chair and searched every inch of every shelf, and turned every jug and cup
+upside down.  "It <i>must</i> be somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, somewhere!  But it isn't here, and it isn't in Mr. King's pocket."
+Poor Lucy sank back in her chair looking ready to faint.  Five shillings
+meant much to her.  It was so horrible, too, to feel that a thief had been
+in, and had perhaps gone all over the house.  Who could say what more he
+had taken, or what mischief he had done.</p>
+
+<p>She was disappointed also in her trust in Mona, and she was tired and
+faint from want of food.  All her pleasure in her day and in her
+homecoming was gone, changed to worry and weariness and disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>"But who can have been so wicked as to take it!" cried Mona passionately.
+"Nobody had any right to open our door and come into our house.
+It's hard to think one can't go out for a few minutes but what somebody
+must come and act dishonest&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We can't talk about others not doing right if we don't do right
+ourselves!  Your father and I left you here in charge, and you undertook
+the charge.  We trusted you."</p>
+
+<p>Mona got down from the chair.  "It's very hard if I can't ever go
+anywhere&mdash;I only went for a little while.  Millie said father wouldn't be
+here&mdash;the boats weren't in sight.  And you see she was right!  They are
+ever so late."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose we are all made differently, but I couldn't have played
+games knowing that the boats ought to have been in, and not knowing what
+might have happened to my father."</p>
+
+<p>"I get tired of always sticking around, waiting on the old boats.  I never
+thought of there being any danger, they're so often late.  It was only
+towards the end that people came down looking for them and wondering."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy groaned.  "Well, I'm thankful you don't suffer as I do, child.
+P'raps I'm foolish, but I'm terrified of the sea, and I never get
+accustomed to the danger of it."  And she looked so white and wan, Mona's
+heart was touched, and some of the sullenness died out of her face and
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought&mdash;there was only a little wind," she began, when a sharp
+rap at the door interrupted her, then the latch was raised, and the door
+opened briskly.  "Boats are in sight, Mrs. Carne! and all's well!" cried a
+voice cheerfully, and old Job Maunders popped his grizzled head round the
+screen.  "I thought you might be troubling, ma'am, so I just popped 'fore
+to tell 'ee.  I'm off down to see if I can lend a hand."</p>
+
+<p>And before Lucy could thank him, the kindly old man was hurrying away
+through the garden and down the street.</p>
+
+<p>But what changed feelings he had left behind him!  Tired though she was,
+Lucy was on her feet in a moment and her face radiant.  "Come, dear, we've
+got to bustle round now for a bit.  You run and get some sticks and make a
+good fire, and I'll get out his clean, dry things.  Then while I'm cooking
+the supper you can be laying the cloth."</p>
+
+<p>While she spoke she was gathering up a lot of parcels which were lying
+scattered over the table.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm longing to show you what I've bought."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," thought Mona, "and I am longing to see!"</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if you'll like what I've chosen for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder, too!" thought Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have a good look at everything when we've had supper.  Then we
+needn't be hurrying and scurrying all the time, and there'll be more
+room."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the upset to her feelings, Mona was interested, but all real
+pleasure was gone.  She knew that probably there was something for her in
+one of the fat parcels, but the thought of taking any more kindness from
+Lucy, to whom she had behaved so badly, was painful.  She wanted, instead,
+to make amends to replace the lost five shillings.  She longed to have the
+money to pay back, but she had not one penny!  All she could do was to
+work, and to go without things she wanted.  She could do the first better
+than the last, and she would rather.  She did not really mind working,
+but she did mind denying herself things she had set her heart on.
+"But I will, I will," she thought to herself while the shock of the theft
+was still on her.</p>
+
+<p>Before very long the fire was burning brightly, the kettle was beginning
+to sing, and Lucy was cooking the sausages and bacon she had brought back
+with her from Baymouth.  The savoury smell of them wafted through the
+kitchen and reached the hungry, weary man trudging heavily up the garden.
+Then Mona caught the sound of his coming, and rushed out, while Lucy stood
+behind her with radiant face and glowing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You must be chilled to the bone, and dead beat," she cried.  "Ain't you,
+father?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I was&mdash;but I ain't now.  It's worth everything just for the
+pleasure of coming back to a home like mine, my girl."</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mona was growing more and more impatient.  "Grown-ups do take so long over
+everything," she thought irritably.  "If it gets much later mother will
+say, 'there isn't time to open the parcels to-night, we must wait till
+morning!'  Oh, dear!"</p>
+
+<p>It was long past eight before they had sat down to their meal, and then,
+her father and mother both being very tired, they took it in such a
+leisurely fashion that Mona thought they never would have finished.
+They, of course, were glad to sit still and talk of their day's doings,
+but Mona, as soon as her hunger was satisfied, was simply longing to be up
+and examining the contents of the tempting-looking parcels which had
+waited so long on the side-table.</p>
+
+<p>She fidgeted with her knife and fork, she rattled her cup and shuffled
+her feet, but still her father went on describing his adventures,
+and still Lucy sat listening eagerly.  To them this was the happiest and
+most restful time of the day.  The day's work was done, duty would not
+call to them again until morning.  The kitchen was warm and comfortable.
+It was just the right time for a leisurely talk, but Mona did not realise
+this.</p>
+
+<p>At last, disturbed by her restlessness, her mother and father broke off
+their talk and got up from the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you have a pipe, father, while Mona and I put away the supper things.
+After that I'll be able to sit down and hear the rest of it.  I expect
+Mona's tired and wants to be off to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am not," said Mona sharply.  In her heart she grumbled, "Work,
+work, always work&mdash;never a bit of fun."  She had forgotten the hours she
+had spent playing on the quay only a little while before.  She would not
+remind her mother of the parcels, but sulked because she had forgotten
+them.  Lucy looked at her anxiously now and again, puzzled to know why her
+mood had changed so suddenly.  She was still puzzling over the matter,
+when, in putting something back on the side-table, she saw the pile of
+parcels.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mona," she cried, "I'd forgot all about my shopping, and the things
+I was going to show you.  Make haste and dry your hands and come and look.
+We'll be able to have a nice, quiet little time now before we go to bed!"</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face changed at once, and her whole manner too.  It did not take
+her long after that to finish up and be ready.</p>
+
+<p>"That," said Lucy, putting one big roll aside, "that's the blue wool for
+father.  We needn't open that now.  Oh, and this, is for you, dear,"
+pushing a big box towards Mona.  "I hope you will like it.  I thought it
+sweetly pretty.  Directly I saw it I thought to myself, now that'll just
+suit our Mona!  I seemed to see you wearing it."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's heart beat faster, her cheeks grew rosy with excitement.
+"Whatever can it be!" she wondered, and her fingers trembled so with
+eagerness, she was ever so long untying the string.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't like it," went on Lucy, busy untying the knots of another
+parcel, "Mr. Phillips promised he'd change it, if it wasn't damaged at
+all."</p>
+
+<p>How tantalising Lucy was!  Whatever could it be!  Then at last the knot
+gave way, and Mona lifted the lid, and pushed the silver paper aside.
+"Oh, mother!"  She clapped her hands in a rapture, her eyes sparkled with
+joy.  "Oh, mother!  It's&mdash;it's lovely.  I didn't know, I didn't think you
+could get me a hat to-day&mdash;oh&mdash;h!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you like it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's lovely!"</p>
+
+<p>"Try it on, and let us see if it suits you.  That's the chief thing, isn't
+it?"  Lucy tried to look grave, but she was nearly as excited and
+delighted as Mona herself.</p>
+
+<p>Mona put it on and looked at her mother with shy questioning.  She hoped
+so much that it did suit her, for she longed to keep it.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy gazed at her critically from all sides, then she nodded with grave
+approval.  "Yes, I never saw you in one that suited you better, to my
+mind.  Go and see for yourself&mdash;but wait a minute," as Mona was hurrying
+away to the scullery, where hung a little mirror about a foot square.
+"Don't treat that poor box so badly," as she rescued it from the floor,
+"there's something else in amongst all that paper.  Look again."</p>
+
+<p>Mona opened the box again, but her heart had sunk suddenly.  Yes, there it
+was, the very thing she had dreaded to see&mdash;a wreath of blue
+forget-me-nots and soft green leaves!  There was a piece of black ribbon
+velvet too, to make the whole complete.</p>
+
+<p>It was a charming wreath.  Compared with it, her own purchase seemed poor
+and common.</p>
+
+<p>Mona held it in her hand, gazing at it with lowered lids.  Then suddenly
+her eyes filled with tears.  "Oh, mother," she stammered brokenly.
+There was such real pain in her voice that Lucy looked at her in anxious
+surprise.  "Don't you like it?" she asked, disappointed.  She had hoped
+for a rapturous outburst of pleasure, and, instead, Mona stood silent,
+embarrassed, evidently on the verge of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you like it, dear?" she asked again.  "I thought you would have
+been pleased.  The blue on that silvery white straw looks so pretty,
+I think.  Don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona nodded, but did not speak.  "Mona, dear, what is it?  Tell me what's
+wrong?  I am sure there is something.  Perhaps I can help you, if I know."</p>
+
+<p>Tears had been near Mona's eyes for some moments, and the kindness in her
+mother's face and voice broke down all restraints.  Tossing the hat one
+way and the wreath another, Mona ran into Lucy's arms, sobbing bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;I must tell.  I can't keep it in any longer!  Oh, mother, I've got a
+wreath already, I bought it myself, and I hate it&mdash;oh, I hate it!
+I&mdash;I can't tell you how bad I've felt about it ever since I got it!"
+And then the whole of the miserable story came pouring out.  She kept
+nothing back.  She told of her keeping the eighteenpence, of her dream, of
+her mortification in the shop.  "And&mdash;and it seemed as if my dream came
+true," she said, when presently the worst was told.  "I was so crazy for
+the forget-me-nots that I couldn't get, that I never thought anything of
+the wallflowers close beside me, and then, when I had got forget-me-nots,
+I was disappointed; and when I lost the wallflowers, I began to think all
+the world of them!"</p>
+
+<p>Lucy, with her head resting against Mona's, as she held her in her arms,
+smiled sadly.  "It's the same with all of us, dear.  We're so busy looking
+into our neighbour's garden patch, envying them what they've got, that we
+don't see what we've got in our own, and, as like as not, trample it down
+with reaching up to look over the wall, and lose it altogether.  Now, pick
+up your hat and your flowers and try to get all the pleasure you can out
+of them.  I hoped they'd have brought you such a lot.  Or would you rather
+change the wreath for another?"</p>
+
+<p>But Mona would not hear of that.  "Oh, no, I wanted blue forget-me-nots,
+and these are lovely.  I'd rather have them than anything, thank you,
+mother."</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't have anything prettier," said Peter Carne, rousing suddenly
+from his nap.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy laughed.  "Now, father, whatever do you know about it!  You go to
+sleep again.  Mona and I are talking about finery."  She was busy undoing
+a large parcel of drapery.  "I've got the print here for your frocks,"
+she turned to Mona again.  "I'd have liked to have had both dark blue,
+but I thought you might fancy a pink one, so I got stuff for one of each.
+There, do you like them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Like them!  Oh, mother, are they really both for me!  And what pretty
+buttons!  Are those for me, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's all for you, dear."  Lucy's voice had begun to sound tired and
+faint.  She had had a long, wearying day, and the parcels had been heavy.
+Mona, though, did not notice anything.  She was busy arranging the wreath
+round the crown of her hat.  "If I only had a white dress, wouldn't it
+look nice with this!  Oh, I'd love to have a white dress.  If I'd stayed
+with granny, she was going to get me one this summer."</p>
+
+<p>Her father turned and looked across at them.  "What've you bought for
+yourself, Lucy, my girl?" he asked suddenly.  Lucy looked up in surprise.
+"I&mdash;oh, I didn't want anything, father," she said, somewhat embarrassed.
+"I don't need anything new this summer.  My dove-colour merino is as good
+as it was the day I bought it.  It seems foolish to&mdash;to buy new when one
+doesn't need it," she added hastily.  "It is only a trouble to keep."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean the one you were married in?" asked Peter shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy nodded.  "Yes&mdash;the one you liked.  I'll get myself a new pair of
+gloves.  I can get those at Tamlin's."</p>
+
+<p>"Um!" There was a deal of meaning in Peter Carne's 'Um.'  "Well, you'll
+never get one that's prettier, but you ought to have something new and
+nice, too.  And what about your medicine?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"  Lucy coloured.  "Oh, I&mdash;I'm trying to do without it.  It isn't good
+for anyone to be taking it too often."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what granny always says," chimed in Mona.  "She says if people get
+into the way of taking medicine they get to think they can't do without
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy's pale cheeks flushed pink, and a hurt look crept into her eyes.
+Her husband was deeply annoyed, and showed it.  "I think, my girl,"
+he said, in a sterner voice than Mona had ever heard before, "you'd better
+wait to offer your opinion until you are old enough to know what you are
+talking about.  You are more than old enough, though, to know that it's
+wrong to repeat what's said before you.  After all your mother's bought
+for you, too, I'd have thought," he broke off, for Mona's eyes were once
+more full of tears.  Never in her life before had her father spoken to her
+so severely.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I didn't mean any harm," she stammered, apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you should learn to think, and not say things that may do harm.
+If what's on your tongue to say is likely to hurt anybody's feelings, or
+to make mischief, then don't let it slip past your tongue.  You'll get on
+if you keep that rule in your mind."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy put her arm round her little stepdaughter, and drew her close.
+"I know that our Mona wouldn't hurt me wilfully," she said kindly.
+"She's got too warm a heart."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Carne patted Mona's shoulder tenderly.  "I know&mdash;I know she has.
+We've all got to learn and you can't know things unless they are pointed
+out to you.  I'm always thankful to them that helped me in that way when I
+was young.  Mona'll be glad, too, some day."</p>
+
+<p>"Grown-ups always say things like that," thought Mona, wistfully.  She did
+not feel at all glad then.  In fact, she felt so ashamed and so mortified,
+she thought gladness could never enter into her life again.</p>
+
+<p>It did come, though, for the hurt was not as deep as she thought.  It came
+the next day when her mother trimmed the new hat.  Lucy had good taste,
+and when living at the Grange she had often helped the young ladies with
+their millinery.</p>
+
+<p>"If I put the velvet bow just where the wreath joins, and let the ends
+hang just ever so little over the edge of the brim, I think it'll look
+nice and a little bit out of the common.  Don't you, dear?"  She held up
+the hat to show off the effect.  Mona thought it was lovely.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, as soon as ever I can I'll cut out your dresses, and, if you'll
+help me with the housework, I'll make them myself.  It won't take me so
+very long, with my machine."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke of it so lightly that Mona did not realise in the least what the
+fatigue of it would be to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll do everything," she said, cheerfully.  "You leave everything to
+me, mother, and only do your sewing, I can manage."</p>
+
+<p>And she did manage, and well, too, in the intervals of trying on, and
+admiring, and watching the frocks growing into shape and beauty under
+Lucy's hands.  They were quite plain little frocks, but in Mona's eyes
+they were lovely.  She could not decide which of them she liked best.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy finished off the pink one first, and as soon as it was completed Mona
+took it upstairs and put it on.  New dresses very seldom came her way, and
+she was in a great state of excitement.  She had never in her life before
+had one that she might put on on a week day and wear all day long.
+As a rule, one had to wait for Sunday, and then the frock might only be
+worn for a few hours, if the weather was fine, and as soon as ever church
+and Sunday school were over it had to be changed.</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't it look nice!" she cried, delightedly, running downstairs to show
+her mother.  "And it fits me like a glove!"  Her cheeks were almost as
+pink as her gown.  Her blue eyes glowed with pleasure.  She looked like a
+pretty pink blossom as she stood with the sunshine pouring in on her.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy smiled at the compliment to her skill.  "You do look nice, dear."</p>
+
+<p>Holding out her crisp, pink skirt, Mona danced gaily round the kitchen,
+the breeze blowing in at the open door ruffled her hair a little.
+She drew herself up, breathless, and glanced out.  Everything certainly
+looked very tempting out of doors.  She longed to go and have a run,
+the breeze and the sunshine seemed to be calling her.  She scarcely liked,
+though, to leave her mother, tired as she was, and still busy at the blue
+frock.</p>
+
+<p>While she was standing looking out, her father appeared at the gate,
+a letter in his hand.  He came up the path reading it.  When he came to
+the porch he looked up and saw Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my!  How smart we are!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like it, father?  Isn't it pretty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fine!  And now I s'pose you're longing to go out and show it off!"
+He laughed, and pinched her cheeks.  Mona felt quite guilty at his quick
+reading of her thoughts, but before she could reply he went on, more
+gravely, "I've got a letter from your grandmother.  She sends her love to
+you."  He went inside and put the letter down on the table before Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"She doesn't seem very well," he said, with a pucker on his brow, "and she
+complains of being lonely.  I'm very glad she's got nice neighbours handy.
+They'd be sure to run in and see her, and look after her a bit if she's
+bad.  I shouldn't like to feel she was ailing, and all alone."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face dropped, and her heart too.  She felt horribly guilty.
+"Would Mrs. Lane go in and sit with her for company?  Would she look after
+her if she was bad?  Had they made up their quarrel?" she wondered,
+"or were they still not on speaking terms?"  She did not know whether to
+tell her father of the quarrel or not, so she said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy had been busy trying to frame an excuse for sending Mona out.
+She knew she was longing to go.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona," she said, when at last they had finished discussing the letter and
+its contents, "would you like to go down to Mr. Henders' for some tea and
+sugar, and go on to Dr. Edwards for my medicine?  He said it would be
+ready whenever anyone could come for it."</p>
+
+<p>Mona beamed with pleasure.  "I'll go and put on my hat and boots now this
+minute," and within ten she was ready, and walking, basket in hand, and
+very self-conscious, down the hill to the shops.</p>
+
+<p>The church clock struck twelve as she reached the doctor's.  In a few
+minutes the children would all be pouring out of school, and wouldn't they
+stare when they saw her!  She felt almost shy at the thought of facing
+them, and gladly turned into Mr. Henders' out of their way.  She would
+dawdle about in there, she told herself, until most of them had gone by.</p>
+
+<p>She did dawdle about until Mrs. Henders asked her twice if there was
+anything more that she wanted, and, as she could not pretend that there
+was, she had to step out and face the world again.  Fortunately, though,
+only the older and sedater girls were to be seen.  Philippa Luxmore and
+Patty Row, each carrying her dinner bag, Winnie Maunders, and Kitty
+Johnson, and one or two Mona did not know to speak to.</p>
+
+<p>Philippa and Patty always brought their dinner with them, as the school
+was rather far from their homes.  Sometimes they had their meal in the
+schoolroom, but, if the weather was warm and dry, they liked best to eat
+it out of doors, down on the rocks, or in a field by the school.</p>
+
+<p>When they caught sight of Mona they rushed up to her eagerly.  "Oh, my!
+How nice you look, Mona.  What a pretty frock!  It's new, isn't it?
+Are you going to wear it every day or only on Sundays?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, every day." Mona spoke in a lofty tone.  "It's only one of my working
+frocks.  I've got two.  The other's a blue one.  Mother's made them for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Um! Your mother is good to you, Mona Carne!  I wish I'd got frocks like
+that for working in.  I'd be glad to have them for Sundays.  Where are you
+going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Home."
+
+"Oh, don't go home yet.  Patty and me are going down to eat our dinner on
+the rocks.  Come on down too.  You won't hurt your frock."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I can stay&mdash;I ought to go back.  I've got mother's medicine
+here.  It's getting on for dinner-time, too, and father's home to-day."
+Glancing up the road, she caught sight of Millie Higgins and another girl
+in the distance.  She particularly did not want to meet Millie just then.
+She made such rude remarks, and she always fingered things so.  Mona had
+not forgiven her either for leading her astray the day her mother went
+into Baymouth.</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated a moment and was lost.  She turned and walked away from her
+home.  Philippa slipped her arm through hers on one side, and Patty on the
+other, and almost before she knew where she was she was racing with them
+to the shore.</p>
+
+<p>The wind had risen somewhat, so it took them some minutes to find a nice
+sheltered spot in the sunshine and out of the wind, and they had to sit on
+the land side of the rocks, with their backs to the sea.  It was very
+pleasant, though, and, once settled, Mona told them all about her new hat,
+and they gave her a share of their dinner.</p>
+
+<p>After that they told her of the new summer frocks they were to have, and
+the conversation grew so interesting and absorbing, they forgot everything
+else until the church clock struck two!</p>
+
+<p>With a howl of dismay, they all sprang to their feet, and then they howled
+again, and even more loudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mona, look!  The tide's right in!  We'll have to get back through the
+fields, and, oh, shan't we be late!"  Patty and Philippa began to scramble
+back as fast as ever they could.  "Good-bye," they called over their
+shoulders.  "Oh, Mona, look out for your basket, it's floating."</p>
+
+<p>They could not have stayed to help her, but it did seem heartless of them
+to run away and leave her alone to manage as best she could.
+Mona looked about her helplessly, her heart sinking right down, down.
+The tide at that point had a way of creeping up gently, stealthily, and
+then, with one big swirl would rush right in and around the group of rocks
+on which she stood.  If the wind was high and the sea at all rough, as
+likely as not it would sweep right over the rocks and back again with such
+force that anyone or anything on them was swept away with it.  There was
+not wind enough to-day for that.  At least, Mona herself was safe, but her
+basket!&mdash;already that was swamped with water.  At the thought of the
+ruined tea and sugar her eyes filled.  Her mother's medicine was in the
+basket too.  She would save that!  At any rate, she would feel less guilty
+and ashamed if she could take that back to her.  She made a dash to seize
+the basket before the next wave caught it, slipped on the slimy rock, and
+fell face forward&mdash;and at the same moment she heard the crash of breaking
+glass.  The medicine was mingling with the waves, the basket was riding
+out on the crest of them!</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mona!  At that minute the hardest heart would have felt sorry for
+her.  Her dress was ruined, her hands were scraped and cut, her mother's
+tonic was gone!  The misery which filled her heart was more than she could
+bear.  "I can't go home!" she sobbed.  "I can't, I never can any more."
+Big sobs shook her, tears poured down her cheeks.  "I can't go home,
+I can't face them.  Oh, what shall I do!  What shall I do!"  She looked
+down over her wet, green-slimed frock, so pretty and fresh but an hour
+ago, and her sobs broke out again.  "I'll&mdash;I'll run away&mdash;they won't want
+me after this, but p'raps they'll be sorry for me when they miss me.
+Oh, I wish I'd never come, I wish I'd never met Phil and Patty&mdash;they'd no
+business to ask me to come with them&mdash;it was too bad of them.  I wish I'd
+gone straight home.  If it hadn't been for Millie Higgins I should have,
+and all this would have been saved.  Oh, what shall I do?"</p>
+
+<p>As there was no one but a few gulls to advise her, she received no
+comfort, and had, after all, to settle the question for herself.</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments all she did was to cry.  Then, "I'll go to granny," she
+decided.  "She'll be glad to have me, and she won't scold.  Yes, I'll go
+to granny.  Father and mother will be glad to be rid of me&mdash;I&mdash;I'm nothing
+but a trouble to them!"  But, all the same, she felt so sorry for herself
+she could scarcely see where she was going for the tears which blinded
+her.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mona's first thought was to avoid being seen by anyone who would recognise
+her; her second&mdash;that she must keep out of sight as much as possible until
+her dress was dry, and her face less disfigured, for anyone meeting her
+now would stop her to enquire if she had met with an accident.</p>
+
+<p>By keeping along the shore for some little distance it was possible to get
+out on to the high road to Milbrook, but it was not an easy path to
+travel.  It meant continued climbing over rocks, ploughing through loose,
+soft sand, or heavy wet sand, clinging to the face of a cliff and
+scrambling along it, or wading through deep water.</p>
+
+<p>What her new pink frock would be like by the time she reached the road
+Mona did not care to contemplate.  "It will be ruined for ever&mdash;
+the first time of wearing, too," and a sob caught in her throat as she
+remembered how her mother had toiled to get the material, and then to make
+the dress.  Now that she was losing her she realised how much she had
+grown to love her mother in the short time she had lived with her, and how
+good and kind Lucy had been.  It never occurred to her that she was
+doubling her mother's trouble by running away in this cowardly fashion.
+Indeed, she would have been immensely surprised if anyone had hinted at
+such a thing.  She was convinced that she was doing something very heroic
+and self-denying; and the more she hurt herself clambering over the rough
+roads, the more heroic and brave she thought herself.  And when, at last,
+she stepped out on the high road, and realised that she had seven miles to
+walk to her grandmother's house, she thought herself bravest of all,
+a perfect heroine, in fact.</p>
+
+<p>Already she was feeling hungry, for breakfast had been early, and Patty
+and Philippa had only been able to spare her a slice of bread and butter
+and a biscuit.</p>
+
+<p>On she trudged, and on, and on.  A distant clock struck three, and just at
+the same moment she passed a sign-post with 'Milbrook, 6 miles,' painted
+on one arm of it, and 'Seacombe, 1 mile,' on another.</p>
+
+<p>"Then she had six long tiresome miles to walk before she could get a
+meal!" she thought.  "If she did not get on faster than she was doing,
+it would be dark night before she reached Hillside Cottage, and granny
+would be gone to bed.  She always went to bed as soon as daylight began to
+go.  How frightened she would be at being called up to let Mona in!"</p>
+
+<p>The thought quickened her steps a little, and she covered the next mile in
+good time.  She ran down the hills, and trotted briskly along the level.
+She got on faster in that way, but she very soon felt too tired to
+continue.  Her legs ached so badly she had no heart left for running.
+Now and again she leaned back against the hedge for a little rest, and oh,
+how she did wish that it was the blackberry season!  She was starving, or
+felt as though she was.</p>
+
+<p>By and by, when she had quite despaired of ever reaching granny's that
+night, she caught sight of a cart lumbering along in the distance, and a
+man sitting up in it driving.  It was the first sight of a human being
+that she had seen since she started, and she welcomed it gladly.
+"Perhaps it's going my way, and will give me a lift."
+
+The thought so cheered her that she went back a little way to meet the
+cart.  When she drew nearer she saw that it was a market cart, and that
+the driver was a kindly-looking elderly man.  Every now and again he
+talked encouragingly to his horse to quicken its pace.  Between whiles he
+sang snatches of a hymn in a loud, rolling bass.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as he saw that Mona was waiting to speak to him, he stopped his
+singing and drew up the horse.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, missie," he said civilly.  "Are you wanting a lift?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please&mdash;I wondered if you would&mdash;I am so tired I can hardly walk."</p>
+
+<p>"Um!  Where were you thinking of going?"</p>
+
+<p>"To Hillside&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Um!  You've got a brave step to go yet.  We're a good three miles from
+Hillside.  Have 'ee come far?"</p>
+
+<p>"From Seacombe," Mona admitted reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>"My word!  It's a brave long walk for a young thing like you to take
+alone.  Why, you wouldn't reach Hillside till after dark&mdash;not at the rate
+you could go.  You look tired out already."</p>
+
+<p>"I am," sighed Mona, pathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, jump up quick, or my old nag'll fall asleep, and I'll have the
+works of the world to wake un up again."</p>
+
+<p>Mona laughed.  "Thank you," she said, eyes and voice full of gratitude as
+she clambered up the wheel, and perched herself on the high, hard seat
+beside her new friend.  "I'm very much obliged to you, sir.  I don't
+believe I'd ever have got there, walking all the way.  I didn't know seven
+miles was so far."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe you would.  A mile seems like two when you ain't in good
+trim for it, and the more miles you walk, the longer they seem.
+Gee up, you old rogue you!"  This to the horse, who, after much coaxing,
+had consented to move on again.</p>
+
+<p>"I never felt so tired in all my life before," sighed Mona, in a voice so
+faint and weary that her companion looked at her sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Had any dinner?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Mona shook her head.  "No, I&mdash;I missed my dinner.  I&mdash;I came away in a
+hurry."</p>
+
+<p>"That's always a bad plan."  He stooped down and pulled a straw bag
+towards him.  "I couldn't eat all mine.  My wife was too generous to me.
+P'raps you could help me out with it.  I don't like to take any home&mdash;it
+kind of hurts my wife's feelings if I do.  She thinks I'm ill, too.
+Can you finish up what's left?"</p>
+
+<p>He unrolled a clean white cloth and laid it and its contents on Mona's
+lap.</p>
+
+<p>"Could she!"  Mona's eyes answered for her.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like bread and ham?  It may be a trifle thick&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" gasped Mona, "I think bread and ham, <i>thick</i> bread and ham is nicer
+than anything else in the world!"</p>
+
+<p>"Um! Peg away, then.  And there's an orange, in case you're thirsty."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you are kind!" cried Mona, gratefully.  "And oh, I am so glad I met
+you, I don't believe I'd have got much further, I was feeling so faint."</p>
+
+<p>"That was from want of food.  Here, before you begin, hadn't you better
+put something about your shoulders.  It's getting fresh now the sun's gone
+down, and when we get to the top of that hill we shall feel it.  Have you
+got a coat, or a shawl, or something?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't.  I&mdash;I came away in a hurry&mdash;but I shall be all right.
+I don't mind the cold."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think you were in too much of a hurry&mdash;to have forget your
+shawl, and your dinner, too.  Wasn't there anybody to look after you,
+and see you started out properly?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't an orphan, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, I've got a father and a stepmother&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh-h!" meaningly.  "Is that the trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona fired up at once in defence of Lucy.  "No, it isn't.  She's just the
+same as my own mother.  She's so kind to me&mdash;if she hadn't been so kind
+I&mdash;I wouldn't have minded so much.  She sat up last night to&mdash;to finish
+making my frock for me."  Her words caught in her throat, and she could
+say no more.</p>
+
+<p>Her companion eyed first her disfigured face, and then her bedraggled
+frock.  "It seems to have seen trouble since last night, don't it?" he
+remarked drily, and then the words and the sobs in Mona's throat poured
+out together.</p>
+
+<p>"That's why&mdash;I&mdash;I'm here.  I can't go home and show her what I've done.
+It was so pretty only this morning&mdash;and now&mdash;&mdash;"  Then bit by bit
+Mona poured forth her tale of woe into the ears of the kindly stranger,
+and Mr. Dodds sat and listened patiently, thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"And what about your poor father and mother and their feelings," he asked
+when Mona had done.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;oh&mdash;they'll be glad to be rid of me.  They'll be better without me,"
+said Mona, with the air and voice of a martyr.</p>
+
+<p>"Um!  If you're certain sure of that, all well and good, but wouldn't it
+have been better to have went back and asked them?  It does seem a bit
+hard that they should be made to suffer more 'cause they've suffered so
+much already.  They won't know but what you've been carried out to sea
+'long with your poor mother's tonic."</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not reply.  In her inmost heart she knew that he was right,
+but she hadn't the courage to face the truth.  It was easier, too, to go
+on than to go back, and granny would be glad to see her.  She would be
+sorry for her, and would make much of her.  Granny always thought that all
+she did was right.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of her feelings, though, Mona finished her meal, and felt much
+better for it, but she presently grew so sleepy she could not talk and
+could scarcely keep on her seat.  Mr. Dodds noticed the curly head sink
+down lower and lower, then start up again with a jerk, then droop again.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here&mdash;what's your name, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mona&mdash;Carne," said Mona, sleepily, quite oblivious of the fact that she
+had given away her identity.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mona, what I was going to say was, you'll be tumbling off your seat
+and find yourself under the wheel before you know where you are; so I'd
+advise you to get behind there, and curl down into the straw.  Then, if
+you draw my top-coat over you, you'll be safe and warm both."</p>
+
+<p>Mona needed no second bidding.  She almost tumbled into the clean,
+sweet-smelling straw.  "Thank you," she was going to say, as she drew the
+coat up over her, but she only got as far as 'thank,' and it seemed to her
+that before she could say 'you,' she was roused again by the cart drawing
+up, and there she was at her grandmother's gate, with granny standing on
+the doorstep peering out into the dimness.  She thought she had closed her
+eyes for only a minute, and in that minute they had travelled three miles.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, Mr. Dodds?"  Granny called out sharply.  "Whatever made 'ee
+come at this time of night?  'Tis time your poor 'orse was 'ome in his
+stable, and you in your own house!"</p>
+
+<p>"I've come on purpose to bring you something very valuable, Mrs. Barnes.
+I've got a nice surprise for 'ee here in my cart.  Now then, little maid,
+you've come to the end of your journey&mdash;and I've got a brave way to go."</p>
+
+<p>Mona was still so sleepy that she had to be almost lifted out of the cart.</p>
+
+<p>"What! Why! Mona!"  Then, as Mona stumbled up the path she almost fell
+into her grandmother's arms.  "What's the meaning of it?  What are they
+thinking about to send 'ee back at this time of night!  In another few
+minutes I'd have been gone to bed.  I don't call it considerate at all."</p>
+
+<p>"They don't know," stammered Mona.  "I wasn't sent, I came.  Oh, granny,
+don't ask about it now&mdash;let me get indoors and sit down.  I'm so tired I
+can't stand.  I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."</p>
+
+<p>But tired though she was, she turned back and thanked her rescuer.
+"I'd have been sleeping under a hedge to-night, if it hadn't been for
+you," she said gratefully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what I did isn't anything," he said amiably.  "'Tisn't worth speaking
+about.  I don't doubt but what you'd do as much for me, if I wanted it.
+Good night, Mrs. Barnes.  Take care of yourself, ma'am, it's a bit fresh
+to-night.  Good night, little maid.  Gee-up, Nettle, my son."</p>
+
+<p>What he had done was a mere nothing, as he said.  But what he did do
+before the night was over was a very big something.  Between two and three
+hours later he was in Seacombe, and knocking at Peter Carne's door.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew you'd be anxious, so I thought I'd just step along and let 'ee
+know that your little maid's all right," he said quietly, making no
+mention of the seven long miles he had tramped after he had fed and
+stabled his horse for the night.</p>
+
+<p>"Anxious!"  Lucy lay half fainting in her chair.  Peter's face was white
+and drawn with the anguish of the last few hours.  Neither of them could
+doubt any longer that Mona had been swept off the rock and out to sea.
+Nothing else could have kept her, they thought.  Patty and Philippa had
+told where they had last seen her, but it was four o'clock before they had
+come out of school and heard that she was missing.  So the crowds
+clustering about the shore had never any hope of finding her alive.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Carne almost fainted, too, with the relief the stranger's words
+brought him.  The best he had dared to hope for when the knock came was
+the news that Mona's body had been washed in.  The revulsion of feeling
+from despair to joy sent him reeling helpless into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>Humphrey Dodds put out his arms and supported him gently.  "I didn't know,
+I ought to have thought, and told 'ee more careful like."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is she?" gasped Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"Safe with her grandmother&mdash;and there I'd let her bide for a bit, if I was
+you," he added, with a twinkle in his eye.  "It'll do her good."</p>
+
+<p>They tried to thank him, but words failed them both.  They pressed him to
+stay the night, he must be so tired, and it was so late, but he refused.
+A walk was nothing to him, and he had to be at work by five the next
+morning.  "But I wouldn't say 'no' to a bit of supper," he said, knowing
+quite well that they would all be better for some food.</p>
+
+<p>Then, while Lucy got the meal ready, Peter went down to tell his good
+news, and send the weary searchers to their homes.</p>
+
+<p>Over their supper Mr. Dodds told them of Mona's pitiful little confession.
+"It doesn't seem hardly fair to tell again what she told me, but I thought
+it might help you to understand how she came to be so foolish.  It don't
+seem so bad when you know how it all came about."</p>
+
+<p>When he had had his supper and a pipe, he started on his homeward way,
+with but the faintest chance of meeting anyone at that hour who could give
+him a lift over some of the long miles.</p>
+
+<p>Little dreaming of the trouble she was causing, Mona, clad in one of her
+grandmother's huge, plain night-gowns, and rolled up in blankets, slept on
+the old sofa in the kitchen, as dreamlessly and placidly as though she
+hadn't a care on her mind.</p>
+
+<p>Overhead, Grannie Barnes moaned and groaned, and tossed and heaved on her
+bed, but Mona slept on unconcerned and happy.  Even the creaking of the
+stairs when granny came down in the morning did not rouse her.  The first
+thing that she was conscious of was a hand shaking her by the shoulders,
+and a voice saying rather sharply, "Come, wake up.  Don't you know that
+it's eight o'clock, and no fire lit, nor nothing!  I thought I might have
+lain on a bit this morning, and you'd have brought me a cup of tea,
+knowing how bad I've been, and very far from well yet.  You said you did
+it for your stepmother.  It's a good thing I didn't wait any longer!"</p>
+
+<p>Mona sat up and stretched, and rubbed her eyes.  "Could this be granny
+talking?  Granny, who had never expected anything of her!"</p>
+
+<p>No one feels in the best of tempers when roused out of a beautiful sleep,
+and to be greeted by a scolding when least of all expecting it, does not
+make one feel more amiable.</p>
+
+<p>"I was fast asleep," she mumbled, yawning.  "I couldn't know the time if I
+was asleep.  You should have called me."  She dropped back on her pillow
+wearily.  "Oh, I'm so tired and I am aching all over.  I don't believe
+I'll ever wake up any more, granny.  Why&mdash;why must I get up?"</p>
+
+<p>"To do some work for once.  I thought you might want some breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>This was so unlike the indulgent granny she had known before she went
+away, that Mona could not help opening her eyes wide in surprise.
+Then she sat up, and, as granny did not relent, she put her feet over the
+edge of the sofa and began to think about dressing.</p>
+
+<p>"What frock can I put on, granny?"  It suddenly struck her that it would
+not be very pleasant to be living in one place while all her belongings
+were in another.</p>
+
+<p>"The one you took off, I s'pose."</p>
+
+<p>"But I can't.  It isn't fit to wear till it has been washed and ironed.
+It wants mending, too.  I tore it dreadfully."</p>
+
+<p>"Um!  And who do you think is going to do all that?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona stared again at her granny with perplexed and anxious eyes.
+There used to be no question as to who would do all those things for her.
+"I don't know," she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can't.  I haven't hardly got the strength to stand and wash my
+own few things, and I'm much too bad to be starching and ironing frocks
+every few days.  Better your stepmother had got you a good stuff one than
+such a thing as that.  If she had, it wouldn't have been spoilt by your
+falling on the seaweed.  Nonsense, I call it!"  Granny drew back the
+curtains sharply, as though to give vent to her feelings.  The perplexity
+in Mona's mind increased.  She was troubled, too, by the marked change in
+her grandmother.  In the bright morning light which now poured in, she
+noticed for the first time a great difference in her appearance as well as
+in her manner.  She was much thinner than she used to be, and very pale.
+Her face had a drawn look, and her eyes seemed sunken.  She seemed,
+somehow, to have shrunken in every way.  Her expression used to be smiling
+and kindly.  It was now peevish and irritable.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time Mona realised that her grandmother had been very ill,
+and not merely complaining.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll light the fire, granny, in a minute&mdash;I mean, I would if I knew what
+to put on."</p>
+
+<p>"There's one of your very old frocks upstairs, hanging behind the door in
+your own room.  It's shabby, and it's small for you, I expect, but you'll
+have to make it do, if you haven't got any other."</p>
+
+<p>"It'll do for the time, till my pink one is fit to wear again."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but who's going to make it fit?  That's what I'd like to know.
+Can you do it yourself?  I s'pose you'd have to if you was with your
+stepmother."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I can't do it.  Do you think Mrs. Lane would?  I'd do something for
+her&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Her grandmother turned to her with a look so full of anger that Mona's
+words died on her lips.  For the moment she had forgotten all about the
+quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Lane!  Mrs. Lane!  After the things she said about you&mdash;you'd ask
+her to do you a favour?  Well, Mona Carne, I'm ashamed of you!  Don't you
+know that I've never spoken to her nor her husband since that day she said
+you'd pulled down the faggots that threw me down, and then had left her
+cats to bear the blame of it.  I've never got over that fall, and I've
+never got over her saying that of you, and, ill though I've been,
+I've never demeaned myself by asking her to come in to see me.
+I don't know what you can be thinking of.  I'm thankful I've got more
+self-respect."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face was crimson, and her eyes were full of shame.  Oh, how
+bitterly she repented now that she had not had the courage to speak out
+that day and say honestly, "Granny, Mrs. Lane was right, I did pull over
+the faggots and forgot them.  It was my fault that you tripped and fell&mdash;
+but I never meant that the blame should fall on anyone else."</p>
+
+<p>She longed to say it now, but her tongue failed her.  What had been such a
+little thing to start with had now grown quite serious.</p>
+
+<p>When her father had wanted her to come home, he had consoled himself for
+taking her from granny by the thought that she had neighbours and friends
+about her for company, but now it seemed that she would rather die alone
+than ask their help, or even let them know that she was ill.</p>
+
+<p>Mona turned despondently away, and slowly mounted the stairs.  "If you do
+ever so little a thing wrong, it grows and grows until it's a big thing!
+Here's granny all alone, 'cause of me, and mother all alone, 'cause of me,
+and worrying herself finely by now, I expect, and&mdash;and I shouldn't wonder
+if it makes her ill again," Mona's eyes filled at the thought, "and&mdash;and I
+never meant to be a bad girl.  I&mdash;I seem to be one before I know it&mdash;it is
+hard lines."</p>
+
+<p>She unhung her old frock from behind the door, and in the chest of drawers
+she found an old apron, "I shall begin to wonder soon if I've ever been
+away," she thought to herself, as she looked at herself in the tiny
+mirror.</p>
+
+<p>"Puss, puss, puss," called a voice.  "Come along, dears.  Your breakfast
+is ready."</p>
+
+<p>Mona stepped to the window and peeped out.  Mrs. Lane was standing with a
+saucer of bread and milk in each hand.  At the sound of her voice her two
+cats came racing up the garden, chattering as they went, and she gave them
+their meal out there in the sunshine.  As she turned to go back to the
+house she glanced up at Granny Barnes', and at the window where Mona
+stood.  Perhaps she had been attracted by the feeling that someone was
+looking at her, or she may have heard something of Mona's arrival the
+night before.</p>
+
+<p>For a second a look of surprise crossed her face, and a half-smile&mdash;then
+as quickly as it came it vanished, and a look of cold disapproval took its
+place.</p>
+
+<p>Mona felt snubbed and hurt.  It was dreadful to have sunk so low in
+anyone's opinion.  It was worse when it was in Mrs. Lane's, for they used
+to be such good friends, and Mrs. Lane was always so kind to her, and so
+patient, and, oh, how Mona had loved to go into her house to play with her
+kittens, or to listen to her stories, and look at the wonderful things
+Captain Lane had brought home with him from some of his voyages.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Lane, who had been a sailor in the Merchant Service, had been to
+all parts of the world, and had brought home something from most.</p>
+
+<p>Mona coloured hotly with the pain of the snub, and the reproof it
+conveyed.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't bear it," she thought.  "I can't bear it&mdash;I'll have to tell."</p>
+
+<p>She went down to the kitchen in a very troubled state of mind.
+Life seemed very sad and difficult just now.</p>
+
+<p>Granny was sitting by the fire, a few sticks in her hand.  "It's taken me
+all this time to get these," she said pathetically, "and now I can't stoop
+any more.  What time we shall get any breakfast I don't know, I'm sure,
+and I'm sinking for the want of something."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll get you a cup of tea soon.  I won't be any time."  It cheered her a
+little to have something to do, and she clutched at anything that helped
+her not to think.  She lighted the fire, swept the hearth up, and laid the
+cloth.  Then she went out to sweep the doorstep.  It was lovely outside in
+the sweet sunshine.  Mona felt she could have been so happy if only&mdash;&mdash;
+While she was lingering over her task, Mrs. Lane came out to sweep her
+step and the tiled path, but this time she kept her head steadily turned
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go right in and tell granny now this minute," thought Mona, her lip
+quivering with pain.  "Then, perhaps, we'll all be friends again.
+I can't bear to live here like this."</p>
+
+<p>But when she turned into the kitchen the kettle was boiling, and her
+grandmother was measuring the tea into the pot.  "Get the loaf and the
+butter, child, I feel I can eat a bit of bread and butter this morning."</p>
+
+<p>Mona got them, and the milk, and some more coal to make up the fire, and
+all the time she was saying over and over to herself different beginnings
+of her confession.  She was so deeply absorbed in her thoughts that she
+did not notice the large slice of bread and butter that her grandmother
+had put on her plate.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you want it?" Granny asked sharply.  "Why, how red you are, child!
+What have you been doing to make your colour like that.  You haven't
+broken anything, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>Her tone and her sharpness jarred on Mona cruelly, and put all her new
+resolutions to flight.  "No, I haven't," she said, sullenly.
+"There wasn't anything to break but the broom, and you saw me put that
+right away."</p>
+
+<p>Granny looked at her for a moment in silence.  "Your manners haven't
+improved since you went home," she said severely.  "If I'd spoken to my
+grandmother like that, I'd have been sent to bed."</p>
+
+<p>A new difficulty opened before Mona's troubled mind.  If she was rude, or
+idle, or disagreeable, the blame for it would fall upon Lucy, and that
+would be an injustice she could not bear.  Now that she had lost her she
+realised how good Lucy had been to her, and how much she loved her.
+For her sake, she would do all she could to control her temper and her
+tongue.</p>
+
+<p>She had coloured again&mdash;with indignation this time&mdash;hot words had sprung
+to her lips in defence of Lucy, but she closed them determinedly, and
+choked the words back again.  She felt that she could say nothing; she
+felt, too, that Lucy would not wish her to say anything.  She could not
+explain so as to make her granny understand that it was not Lucy's fault
+that she was rude and ill-tempered.  It was by acts, not words, that she
+could serve Lucy best.  And for her sake she <i>would</i> try.  She would try
+her very hardest to control her temper and her tongue.  The determination
+brought some comfort to her poor troubled heart.  At any rate, she would
+be doing something that Lucy would be glad about.</p>
+
+<p>Her confession, though, remained unspoken.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mona did try to be good, she tried hard, but she was very, very unhappy.
+She missed her home, she missed Lucy, and her father, and her freedom.
+She longed, too, with an intolerable longing, for the sight and the sound
+of the sea.  She had never, till now that she had lost them, realised how
+dearly she loved the quaint little steep and rambling village, with the
+sea at its foot, and the hills behind it.  She was always homesick.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps if she had been sent to Hillside, and it had been her plain duty
+to live there, and nowhere else, she might have felt more happy and
+settled.  Or, if granny had been the same indulgent, sympathetic granny as
+of old, but she had placed herself where she was by her own foolish,
+unkind act, which she now bitterly repented; and she was there with a
+cloud resting on her character and motives.  She had shown herself
+ungrateful and unkind; she had played a coward's part, and had bitterly
+pained her father and Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>They did not reproach her&mdash;she would have felt better had they done so&mdash;
+but she knew.  And, after all, granny did not want her, or so it seemed!</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not realise that her grandmother was really seriously unwell,
+and that her irritability she could not help.  Mrs. Barnes did not know it
+herself.  Mona only realised that she was almost always cross,
+that nothing pleased her, that she never ran and fetched and carried,
+as she used to do, while Mona sat by the fire and read.  It was granny who
+sat by the fire now.  She did not read, though.  She said her eyes pained
+her, and her head ached too much.  She did not sew, either.  She just sat
+idly by the fire and moped and dozed, or roused herself to grumble at
+something or other.</p>
+
+<p>The day after she came to Hillside, Mona had written to her mother.
+She told her where she was, and why, and tried to say that she was sorry,
+but no reply had come, and this troubled her greatly.</p>
+
+<p>"Were they too angry with her to have anything more to say to her?
+Was Lucy ill?"</p>
+
+<p>Every day she went to meet the postman, her heart throbbing with eager
+anxiety, and day after day she went back disappointed.  If it had not been
+for very shame, she would have run away again and gone home, and have
+asked to be forgiven, but she could not make up her mind to do that.
+Probably they would not want her at home again, after all the trouble and
+expense she had been to them.  Perhaps her father might even send her back
+to Hillside again.  The shame of that would be unbearable!</p>
+
+<p>She was uncomfortable, too, as well as unhappy.  She wanted her clothes,
+her brush and comb, her books, and all her other belongings.  She had,
+after a fashion, settled into her old room again, but it seemed bare and
+unhomelike after her pretty one at Cliff Cottage.</p>
+
+<p>Then one day, after long waiting and longing, and hope and disappointment,
+her father came.  For a moment her heart had leaped with the glad wild
+hope that he had come to take her back with him.  Then the sight of the
+box and parcel he carried had dashed it down again.  He had brought her
+all her possessions.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mona," he said quietly, as she stood facing him, shy and
+embarrassed.  "So you prefer Hillside to Seacombe!  Well, it's always best
+to be where you're happiest, if you feel free to make your choice.
+For my own part, I couldn't live away from the sea, but tastes differ."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;mine&mdash;don't differ," stammered Mona.  "I am not happier."  She was
+so overcome she could hardly speak above a whisper, and her father had
+already turned to Mrs. Barnes.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, mother," he cried, and poor Mona could not help noticing how much
+more kindly his voice sounded when he spoke to granny.  "How are you?
+You don't look first rate.  Don't 'ee feel up to the mark?"  He spoke
+lightly, but his eyes, as they studied the old woman's face, were full of
+surprise and concern.  Granny shook her head.  "No, I ain't well,"
+she said, dully.  "I'm very, very far from well.  I don't know what's the
+matter.  P'raps 'tis the weather."</p>
+
+<p>"The weather's grand.  It's bootiful enough to set everybody dancing,"
+said her son-in-law cheerfully, but still eyeing her with that same look
+of concern.</p>
+
+<p>"P'raps 'tis old age, then.  I'm getting on, of course.  It's only what I
+ought to expect; but I seem to feel old all of a sudden; everything's a
+burden to me.  I can't do my work as I used, and I can't walk, and I can't
+get used to doing nothing I'm ashamed for you to see the place as it is,
+Peter if I'd known you was coming I'd have made an effort&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just why I didn't tell 'ee, mother.  I came unexpected on purpose,
+'cause I didn't want 'ee to be scrubbing the place from the chimney pots
+down to the rain-water barrel.  I know what you are, you see."</p>
+
+<p>Poor old Granny Barnes smiled, but Mona felt hurt.  She did her best to
+keep the house clean and tidy, and she thought it was looking as nice as
+nice could be.  "What I was, you mean," said granny.  "I don't seem to
+have the strength to scrub anything now-a-days."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, there's no need for 'ee to.  You've got Mona to do that kind of
+thing for 'ee."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's heart sank even lower.  "Then he really had no thought of having
+her home again!"</p>
+
+<p>"I've brought your clothes, Mona," he said, turning again to her.
+"Lucy was troubled that they hadn't been sent before.  She thought you
+must be wanting them."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Mona, dully, and could think of nothing more to say,
+though she knew her father waited for an answer.</p>
+
+<p>"I've brought 'ee some fish, mother," picking up the basket.  "It come in
+last night.  I thought you might fancy a bit, and Lucy sent a bit of
+bacon, her own curing, and a jelly, or something of that sort."
+Granny's face brightened.  Though she had not approved of Mona's being
+given a stepmother, she appreciated Lucy's kindness, and when they
+presently sat down to dinner and she had some of the jelly, she
+appreciated it still more.  Her appetite had needed coaxing, but there had
+been nothing to coax it with.  "It tempts anyone to eat," she remarked,
+graciously.  "When one is out of sorts, one fancies something out of the
+common."</p>
+
+<p>"Lucy'll be rare and pleased to think you could take a bit," said Peter,
+delighted for Lucy's sake.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, thank you.  She's made it very nice.  A trifle sour, perhaps, but I
+like things rather sharpish."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother," said Peter suddenly, "I wish you'd come to Seacombe to live.
+It'd be nice to have you near."  His eyes had been constantly wandering to
+his mother-in-law's face, and always with the same anxious look.
+The change in her since last he had seen her troubled him greatly.
+Her round cheeks had fallen in, her old rosiness had given place to a grey
+pallor.  She stooped very much and looked shrunken too.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, granny, do!" cried Mona, eagerly.  It was almost the first time she
+had spoken, but the mere suggestion filled her with overwhelming joy and
+relief.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I could look in pretty often to see how you was, and bring you in a
+bit of fresh fish as often as you would care to have it.  Lucy would take
+a delight, too, in making 'ee that sort of thing," nodding towards the
+jelly, "or anything else you fancied.  We'd be at hand, too, to help 'ee
+if you wasn't very well."</p>
+
+<p>Granny Barnes was touched, and when she looked up there were tears in her
+eyes.  The prospect was tempting.  She had felt very forlorn and old, and
+helpless lately.  She had often felt too that she would like:</p>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+<p class = "noindent">    "A little petting<br>
+<span class = "ind3">        At life's setting."</span><br></p>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<p>"It's good of you to think of it, Peter," she said, hesitatingly.
+Then, fearing that he might have spoken on the impulse of the moment,
+and that she was showing herself too anxious for his help and Lucy's,
+she drew herself up.  "But&mdash;well, this is <i>home</i>, and I don't fancy I
+could settle down in a strange place, and amongst strangers, at my time of
+life."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd be with those that are all you've got belonging to you in this
+world," said Peter.  But granny's mood had changed.  She would not listen
+to any more coaxing, and her son-in-law, seeming to understand her,
+changed the subject.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mona, who did not understand so well, felt only vexed and impatient
+with the poor perverse old woman, for not falling in at once with a plan
+so delightful to herself.  Mona learned to understand as time went on,
+but she was too young yet.</p>
+
+<p>"But, granny, it would be ever so much nicer than this dull old place,
+and&mdash;and you'd have mother as well as me to look after you.  I like
+Seacombe ever so much better than Hillside.  Why won't you go, granny?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Carne groaned.  Mona, by her tactlessness, was setting her
+grandmother dead against such a plan, and undoing all the good he had
+done.  Granny Barnes would never be driven into taking a step, but she
+would see things in her own time and in her own way, if she felt that no
+one was trying to force her.  He held up his hand for silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Your grandmother knows best what'll suit her.  It isn't what you like,
+it's what's best for her that we've all got to think about."</p>
+
+<p>But granny's anger had been roused.  "It may be a dull old place, but it's
+home," she said sharply.  "You can't understand what that means.
+You don't seem to have any particular feeling or you wouldn't be so ready
+to leave first one and then the other, without even a heartache.  I wonder
+sometimes, Mona, if you've got any heart.  Perhaps it's best that you
+shouldn't have; you're saved a lot of pain."  Granny began to whimper a
+little, to her son-in-law's great distress.  "Anyway, you were ready
+enough to run to the 'dull old place' when you were in trouble," she added, reproachfully, and Mona had no answer.</p>
+
+<p>She got up from the table, and, collecting the dishes together, carried
+them to the scullery.  "Oh, dear!" she sighed, irritably, "I seem to be
+always hurting somebody&mdash;and somebody's always hurting me.  I'd better go
+about with my mouth fastened up&mdash;even then I s'pose I'd be always doing
+something wrong.  People are easily offended, it's something dreadful."</p>
+
+<p>She felt very much aggrieved.  So much aggrieved that she gave only sullen
+words and looks, and never once enquired for Lucy, or sent her a message,
+or even hinted at being sorry for what she had done.</p>
+
+<p>"She didn't send any message to me," she muttered to herself, excusingly.
+"She never sent her love, or&mdash;or anything, so why should I send a message
+to her?"  She worked herself up into such a fine state of righteous anger
+that she almost persuaded herself that her behaviour had been all that it
+should be, and that she was the most misunderstood and ill-treated person
+in the whole wide world.</p>
+
+<p>In spite, though, of her being so perfect, she felt miserably unhappy,
+as she lay awake in the darkness, and thought over the day's happenings.
+She saw again her father's look of distress as she snapped at her
+grandmother, and answered him so sulkily.  She pictured him, too, walking
+away down the road towards home, without even a smile from her, and only a
+curt, sullen, good-bye!  Oh, how she wished now that she had run after him
+and kissed him, and begged him to forgive her.</p>
+
+<p>A big sob broke from her as she pictured him tramping those long lonely
+miles, his kind face so grave and pained, his heart so full of
+disappointment in her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh how hateful he will think me&mdash;and I am, I am, and I can't tell him I
+don't really mean to be," and then her tears burst forth, and she cried,
+and cried until all the bitterness and selfishness were washed from her
+heart, and only gentler feelings were left.</p>
+
+<p>As she lay tired out, thinking over the past, and the future, a curious,
+long cry broke the stillness of the night.</p>
+
+<p>"The owl," she said to herself.  "I do wish he'd go away from here.
+He always frightens me with his miserable noise."  She snuggled more
+closely into her pillow, and drew the bedclothes up over her ear.
+"I'll try to go to sleep, then I shan't hear him."</p>
+
+<p>But, in spite of her efforts, the cry reached her again and again.
+"It can't be the owl," she said at last, sitting up in bed, the better to
+listen.  "It sounds more like a person!  Who can it be?"</p>
+
+<p>Again the cry came, "Mo&mdash;na!  Mo&mdash;o&mdash;na!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's somebody calling me.  It must be granny!  Oh, dear!
+Whatever can be the matter, to make her call like that."</p>
+
+<p>Shaking all over with fear, she scrambled out of bed, and groped her way
+to the door.  As she opened it the cry reached her again.</p>
+
+<p>"Mo&mdash;na!"  This time there could be no doubt about it.  It came from her
+grandmother's room.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm coming!" she called loudly.  "All right, granny, I'm coming."
+She ran across the landing, guided by the lights shining through the
+chinks in her grandmother's door.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?&mdash;are you feeling bad, granny?  Do you want something?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm feeling very bad.  I'm ill, I'm very ill&mdash;oh, dear, oh dear,
+what shall I do?  Oh, I've no one to come and do anything for me.
+Oh, dear, oh what can I do?"  Granny's groans were dreadful.  Mona felt
+frightened and helpless.  She had not the least idea what to do or say.
+What did grown-ups do at times like this? she wondered.  She did not know
+where, or how, her grandmother suffered, and if she had she would not have
+known how to act.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want me to fetch the doctor?  I'll go and put on my clothes.
+I won't be more than a minute or two, then I'll come back again&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no, I can't be left alone all the time, I might die&mdash;here, alone;
+oh dear, oh dear, what a plight to be left in!  Not a living creature to
+come to me&mdash;but a child!  Oh, how bad I do feel!"</p>
+
+<p>"But I must do something, or call somebody," cried Mona desperately.
+She had never seen serious illness before, and she was frightened.
+Poor old Mrs. Barnes had always been a bad patient, and difficult to
+manage, even when her ailments were only trifling; now that she really
+felt ill, she had lost all control.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny," said Mona, growing desperate.  "I must get someone to come and
+help us, you must have the doctor, and I can't leave you alone, I am going
+to ask Mrs. Lane to come, I can't help it&mdash;I can't do anything else.
+I'll slip on my shoes and stockings, I won't be more than a minute."</p>
+
+<p>Granny Barnes stopped moaning, and raised herself on her elbow.
+"You'll do no such thing," she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"But granny, I must&mdash;you must have help, and you must have somebody to go
+for the doctor, and&mdash;and, oh, granny, I'm afraid to be here alone,
+I don't know what to do, and you're looking so bad."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I?" nervously.  "Well&mdash;if I've got to die alone and helpless, I will,
+but I won't ask Mrs. Lane to come to me.  Do you think I'd&mdash;ask a favour
+of her, after all her unneighbourliness&mdash;not speaking to me for weeks and
+weeks&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mona burst into tears, confession had to come.  "Granny," she said,
+dropping on her knees beside the bed.  "I&mdash;I've got to tell you
+something&mdash;Mrs. Lane was right&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What!" Granny's face grew whiter, but she said no more.  If she had done
+so, if she had but spoken kindly and helped her ever so little, it would
+have made things much easier for poor Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;it was me that pulled the faggots down that night, and not Mrs.
+Lane's cats, and she won't look, or speak to me because I didn't tell,
+and I let her cats bear the blame.  I&mdash;I didn't mean to do any harm, I was
+in such a hurry to light up the fire, and the old things all rolled down,
+and I forgot to go out and pick them up again.  I didn't think you'd be
+going out there that night, but you went out, and&mdash;and fell over them.
+If you hadn't gone out it would have been all right, I'd have seen them in
+the morning and have picked them up."</p>
+
+<p>But Granny Barnes was not prepared to listen to excuses, she was very,
+very angry.  "And fine and foolish you've made me look all this time,
+Mona Carne, and risked my life too.  For bad as I was a little while back,
+I wouldn't bring myself to ask Mrs. Lane to come to me, nor Cap'en Lane to
+go and fetch the doctor, and&mdash;and if I'd died, well, you know who would
+have been to blame!"</p>
+
+<p>Granny's cheeks were crimson now, and she was panting with exhaustion.
+"Now what you've got to do is&mdash;to go in&mdash;and tell her the truth yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going," said Mona, the tears streaming down her face.  But as she
+hurried to the door, the sight of her, looking so childlike and forlorn in
+her nightgown, with her tumbled hair and tear-stained face, touched her
+grandmother's heart, and softened her anger.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona," she cried, "come back&mdash;never mind about it now, child&mdash;&mdash;"
+But Mona was already in her own room tugging on her shoes and stockings.
+Granny heard her come out and make her way stumbling down the stairs;
+she tried to call again, but reaction had set in, and she lay panting,
+exhausted, unable to do anything but listen.  She heard Mona pulling back
+the heavy wooden bolt of the front door, then she heard her footsteps
+hurrying through the garden, growing more distant, then nearer as she went
+up Mrs. Lane's path.  Then came the noise of her knocking at Mrs. Lane's
+door, first gently, then louder, and louder still&mdash;and then the exhausted,
+over-excited old woman fainted, and knew no more.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, standing in the dark at Mrs. Lane's door, was trembling all over.
+Even her voice trembled.  When Mrs. Lane at last opened her window and
+called out "Who's there?" it shook so, she could not make herself heard
+until she had spoken three times.</p>
+
+<p>"It's me&mdash;Mona Carne.  Oh, Mrs. Lane, I'm so frightened!  Granny's very
+ill, please will you&mdash;come in?&mdash;I&mdash;I don't know what to do for her."</p>
+
+<p>"Mona Carne!  Oh!" Mona heard the surprise in Mrs. Lane's voice,
+and feared she was going to refuse her.  Then "Wait a minute," she said,
+"I'll come down."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's tears stopped, but she still trembled.  Help was coming to granny&mdash;
+but she still had her confession to make, and it seemed such an awful
+ordeal to face.  All the time she stood waiting there under the stars,
+with the scent of the flowers about her, she was wondering desperately how
+she could begin, what she could say, and how excuse herself.</p>
+
+<p>She was still absorbed, and still had not come to any decision, when the
+door behind her opened, and a voice said kindly, "Come inside, Mona, and
+tell me what is the matter," and Mona stepped from the starlit night into
+the warm, dimly lighted kitchen, and found herself face to face with her
+old kind friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, tell me all about it," said Mrs. Lane again catching sight of Mona's
+frightened, disfigured face.  "Why, how you are trembling, child, have you
+had a shock?  Were you in bed?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona nodded.  "Yes, I'd been in bed a good while when I heard a cry,
+such a funny kind of cry!  At first I thought it must be the owl, but when
+I heard it again and again I thought it must be granny, and I got up and
+went to her.  And, oh, I was frightened, she was lying all crumpled up in
+the bed, and she was groaning something dreadful.  She was very ill, she
+said, and she must have the doctor&mdash;but she wouldn't let me go to fetch
+him, 'cause she was afraid to be left alone.  I was frightened to be there
+by myself, and I didn't know what to do for her and I said I'd run in and
+ask you to come&mdash;but she said she'd rather die&mdash;she said I mustn't
+because&mdash;because&mdash;oh you know," gasped Mona, breathless after her
+outpouring of words, "and&mdash;and then&mdash;I&mdash;told her&mdash;about&mdash;about that&mdash;that
+'twas me pulled down the faggots, and you were right, and she looked&mdash;oh
+she looked dreadful, she was so angry!  And then I came in to tell you;
+and, oh Mrs. Lane, I am so sorry I behaved so, I&mdash;I never meant to,
+I never meant Tom and Daisy to have the blame.  And, please Mrs. Lane,
+will you forgive me, and speak to me again?  I've been so&mdash;so mis'rubble,
+and I didn't know how to set things right again."  But here Mona's voice
+failed her altogether, and, worn out with the day's events, and the
+night's alarm, and all the agitation and trouble both had brought,
+she broke down completely.  Mrs. Lane was quite distressed by the violence
+of her sobs.</p>
+
+<p>"There, there, don't cry so, child, and don't worry any more," she said
+gently, putting her arm affectionately round Mona's shaking shoulders,
+"It's all over now! and we are all going to be as happy and friendly again
+as ever we used to be.  Mona, dear, I am so glad, so thankful that you
+have spoken.  It hurt me to think that I had been deceived in you,
+but I know now that you were my own little Mona all the time.  There,
+dear, don't cry any more; we must think about poor granny.  Come along,
+we will see what we can do to help her."</p>
+
+<p>They stepped out into the starlit night, hand in hand, and though her
+grandmother's illness filled Mona with anxiety, she felt as though a heavy
+care had been lifted from her heart, a meanness from her soul; and, as she
+hurried through the scented gardens, she lifted up her face to the starry
+sky, and her heart to the God who looked down on her through Heaven's
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>In the house, when they reached it, all was as she had left it, except
+that now a deep, deep silence reigned; a silence that, somehow, struck a
+chill to both hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"How quiet it is!  She was making such a noise before," Mona whispered,
+hesitating nervously at the foot of the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect she has fallen asleep, I'll go up first and see; you light the
+lamp in the kitchen, and bring me up a glass of cold water.  Or would you
+rather come with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I will come with you."  She could not rid herself of the feeling that
+her granny was dead&mdash;had died angry with her, at the last.  She felt sure
+of it, too, when she saw her lying so still and white on her pillow.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Lane placed her hand over the tired, faintly-beating heart.
+"She is only faint," she said assuringly, a note of intense relief in her
+voice.  "She is coming round.  Run and fetch me some water, dear,
+and open that window as you pass."</p>
+
+<p>So granny, when she presently opened her eyes and looked about her,
+found Mona on one side of her and her old friend on the other; and both
+were looking at her with tender anxious eyes, and faces full of gladness
+at her recovery.</p>
+
+<p>The old feud was as dead as though it had never existed.</p>
+
+<p>"It's like going to sleep in a world of worries and waking up in a new
+one."  The poor old soul sighed contentedly, as she lay with the stars
+looking in on her, and the scent of the flowers wafting up to her through
+the open window.  "It was too bad, though, to be calling you up in the
+night&mdash;out of your bed.  I'm very much obliged to you, Mrs. Lane,
+I&mdash;I'm very glad to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"Not as glad as I am to come, I reckon," her neighbour smiled back at her,
+"we are all going to start afresh again from to-day, ain't we?  So it's as
+well to begin the day early, and make it as long as we can!"</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Granny was much better, and was downstairs again, but she was weak and
+very helpless still.  She was sad too, and depressed.  The last few weeks
+had shaken her confidence in herself, her spirit was strong enough still,
+but more than once lately her body had failed her.  When, in her old way,
+she had said that she would do this, or that, or the other thing, she had
+found out after all, that she could not.  Her body had absolutely refused
+to obey her.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't dependent on other folks yet!" she had said sharply, and had
+afterwards found out that she was, and the discovery alarmed her.
+It saddened her, and broke her spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to be in a home.  I'd rather be in one, or&mdash;or be dead, than be a
+burden on other folks," she moaned.</p>
+
+<p>Granny was very hard to live with in those days.  Even a grown-up would
+have found it difficult to know what to say in answer to her complainings.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny, don't talk like that!" Mona would plead, and she would work
+harder than ever that there might be nothing for granny to do, or to find
+fault with.  But however hard she worked, and however nice she kept
+things, she always found that there were still some things left undone,
+and that those were the very things that, in granny's opinion, mattered
+most.</p>
+
+<p>As for reading, or play-time, Mona never found any for either now, and oh,
+how often and how longingly her thoughts turned to the Quay, and to the
+rocks, and the games that were going on there evening after evening!
+Sometimes it almost seemed that she could hear the laughter and the calls,
+the voice of the sea, the rattle of the oars in the rowlocks, the cries of
+the gulls, and then she would feel as though she could not bear to be away
+from them all another moment.  That she must race back to them then and
+there; never, never to leave them any more!</p>
+
+<p>The loneliness, and the hard work, and the confinement to the house told
+on her.  She became thin, the colour died out of her cheeks, and the
+gladness from her eyes, and all the life and joyousness seemed to go out
+of her.  She grew, and grew rapidly, but she stooped so much she did not
+look as tall as she really was.</p>
+
+<p>Granny Barnes, looking at her sweeping out the path one day, had her eyes
+suddenly opened, and the revelation startled her.  She did not say
+anything to Mona, she just watched her carefully, but she did not again
+blame her for laziness; and while she watched her, her thoughts travelled
+backwards.  A year ago Mona had been noisy, lively, careless, but
+cheerful, always full of some new idea.  She had been round and rosy too,
+and full of mischief.  Now she was listless, quiet, and apparently
+interested in nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got a headache, Mona?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mona indifferently, "I don't think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Is your back aching?"</p>
+
+<p>"It always is."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why didn't you say so, child?"</p>
+
+<p>"What's the good?  The work has to be done."</p>
+
+<p>"If you're bad you must leave it undone.  You can't go making yourself
+ill."</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't ill, and I'd sooner do the work.  There's nothing else to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you read sometimes?  You used to be so fond of reading."</p>
+
+<p>"If I read I forget to do things, and then&mdash;&mdash;"  She was going to say
+"there's a row," but she stopped herself just in time.  "I've read all my
+books till I know them by heart nearly."  Even while she spoke she was
+getting out the ironing cloth, and spreading it on the table.
+The irons were already hot on the stove.</p>
+
+<p>Granny Barnes did not say any more, but sat for a long time gazing into
+the fire, apparently deep in thought.  Mona looking up presently,
+attracted by the silence, was struck by her weary, drooping look, by the
+sadness of the tired old eyes.  But she did not say anything.
+Presently granny roused herself and looked up.  "Put away your ironing,
+child," she said kindly, "and go out and have a game of play.  The air
+will do you good."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to go out, granny.  There's no one to play with&mdash;and I'm
+afraid to leave you; what could you do if you were to faint again?"</p>
+
+<p>Granny sighed.  The child was right.  "I&mdash;I could knock in to Mrs. Lane,
+perhaps," she said, but there was doubt in her voice, and she did not
+press Mona any further.</p>
+
+<p>Mona went on with her ironing, and granny went on staring into the fire,
+and neither spoke again for some time.  Not until Mona, going over to take
+up a fresh hot iron, saw something bright shining on her grandmother's
+cheek, then fall on to her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you feeling bad again, granny?" she asked anxiously.  The sight of
+the tear touched her, and brought a note of sympathy into her voice, and
+the sympathy in her voice in turn touched her granny, and drew both
+together.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I don't know that I'm feeling worse than usual, but&mdash;but, well I feel
+that it'd be a good thing if my time was ended.  I'm only a trouble and a
+burden now&mdash;no more help for anybody."</p>
+
+<p>"Granny! Granny!  You mustn't say such things!"  Mona dropped her iron
+back on the stove again, and threw herself on the floor beside her
+grandmother.  "You mustn't talk like that!  You're weak, that's all.
+You want to rest for a bit and have some tonics.  Mrs. Lane says so."</p>
+
+<p>"Does she?  I seem to want something," leaning her weary head against
+Mona's, "but it's more than tonics&mdash;it's a new body that I'm needing,
+I reckon.  I daresay it's only foolishness, but sometimes I feel like a
+little child, I want to be took care of, and someone to make much of me,
+and say like mother used to, 'Now leave everything to me.  I'll see to it
+all!'  It seems to me one wants a bit of petting when one comes to the end
+of one's life, as much as one does at the beginning&mdash;I don't know but what
+a little is good for one at any age."</p>
+
+<p>Mona slipped down till she sat on the floor at her granny's feet, her head
+resting against granny's knee.  "I think so too," she said wistfully.
+Silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire within
+and the buzz of insects, and the calling of the birds, outside in the
+garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona, how would you like it if we went into Seacombe to live?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona was up in a moment, her face alight with eagerness, but some instinct
+stopped her from expressing too much delight.  In the softened feeling
+which had crept into her heart, she realised that to her grandmother the
+move would mean a great wrench.</p>
+
+<p>"She must love Hillside as much, or <i>nearly</i> as much as I love Seacombe,"
+she told herself.  Aloud she said, "I'd like it, but you wouldn't, would
+you, granny?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I would.  I'd like to be nearer your father, and&mdash;and you would
+be happy there, and perhaps you'd feel stronger.  I'm getting to feel,"
+she added after a little pause, "that one can be happy anywhere, if those
+about one are happy.  Or, to put it another way, one can't be happy
+anywhere if those about one ain't happy."</p>
+
+<p>Mona felt very guilty.  "Granny," she said, but in rather a choky voice,
+"I'll be happy here, if you'd rather stay here&mdash;I will really.  I do love
+Hillside&mdash;it's only the sea I miss, and the fun, and&mdash;and the excitement
+when the boats come in&mdash;but I shall forget all about it soon, and I'll be
+happy here too, if you'd like to stay."</p>
+
+<p>She did try to put aside her own feelings, and speak cheerfully, and she
+succeeded&mdash;but, to her surprise, her grandmother did not jump at her
+offer.</p>
+
+<p>"No, child, I wouldn't rather stay.  I'd like to go.  I feel I want to be
+near my own, and your father and you are all I've got.  I think I'll ask
+him if he can find a little house that'll suit us."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you live with us, granny? You can have my room."</p>
+
+<p>But granny would not hear of that.  "I've always had a home of my own, and
+I couldn't live in anybody else's," she said decisively.  "Your
+stepmother's too much of an invalid herself too, to be able to look after
+another."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'd want me to live with you?" asked Mona, with a little break in
+her voice.  She was disappointed, but she tried not to show it.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dearie," her eyes scanning Mona's face wistfully, "wouldn't you like
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona hesitated for only a second, then "Yes, granny, I should," she said,
+and then as the idea became more familiar, she said more heartily,
+"Yes, I'd love to, and oh, granny, if we could only get one of the little
+houses down by the Quay it would be lovely!  I'm sure you'd like it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't live down by the Quay," granny interrupted sharply,
+"I wouldn't live there if a house was given me rent free.  It is too
+noisy, for one thing, and you feel every breath of wind that blows."</p>
+
+<p>"But you're close, when the boats come in&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Aye, and when they don't come in," said granny.  "I ain't so fond of the
+sea as you are, and I should never know any rest of mind down close by it.
+Every time the wind blew I'd be terrified."</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked vexed.  "It isn't often that there's any place at all to let,"
+she said crossly.  "If we don't take what we can get, we shall never go at
+all."</p>
+
+<p>But Granny Barnes was not alarmed.  "Don't you trouble yourself about
+that.  Your father'll find us something for certain.  He'd got his eye on
+a little place when he was here, he wanted me to take it then.  I almost
+wish I had, now.  Never mind, I'll write to him to-night or to-morrow.
+If I was well I would go in by John Darbie's van and have a look about for
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>All this sounded so much like business, that Mona sat up, all her glumness
+falling from her.  When Granny Barnes once made up her mind to do a thing,
+she did not let the grass grow under her feet.  There was, after all, much
+of Mona's nature in her, and when once she had made up her mind to leave
+her old home, it almost seemed as though she could not get away quickly
+enough.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps it was that she felt her courage might fail her if she gave
+herself much time to think about things.  Perhaps she felt she could not
+face the pain and the worry if she gave herself time to worry much.
+ Or, it may have been that she really did feel anxious about Mona's health
+and her own, and wanted to be settled in Seacombe as soon as possible.</p>
+
+<p>At any rate she so managed that within a fortnight all her belongings were
+mounted on to two of Mr. Dodd's waggons and were carried off to the new
+home, while she and Mona followed in John Darbie's van, seen off by Mrs.
+Lane.  Mrs. Lane was very tearful and sad at parting with them.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it's for the best for both of you&mdash;but I feel as if I can't bear
+the sight nor the thought of the empty home."  Then she kissed them both,
+and stood in the road in the sunshine, waving her hand to them till they
+were out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>"Wave your handkerchief to her, Mona; blow another kiss to her, child."
+But granny kept her own head turned away, and her eyes fixed on the bit of
+white dusty road which lay ahead of them.  Neither could she bear the
+sight of the empty house, nor of the neighbour she was leaving.</p>
+
+<p>Mona's eyes were full of tears, but granny's were dry, though her sorrow
+was much deeper than Mona's.  John Darbie tactfully kept his tongue quiet,
+and his eyes fixed on the scenery.  He understood that his old friend was
+suffering, and would want to be left alone for a while.  So, for the first
+part of the way, they jogged along in silence, except for the scrunching
+of the gravel beneath the wheels, and the steady thud, thud of the old
+horse's hoofs, Granny Barnes looking forward with sad stern eyes, and a
+heart full of dread; Mona looking back through tears, but with hope in her
+heart; the old driver staring thoughtfully before him at the familiar way,
+along which he had driven so many, old and young; happy and sad, some
+willing, some unwilling, some hopeful, others despondent.  The old man
+felt for each and all of them, and helped them on their way, as far as he
+might travel it with them, and sent many a kind thought after them, which
+they never knew of.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," he said at last, speaking his thoughts aloud, "in every
+change we can find some happiness.  There's always something we can do for
+somebody.  So far as I can see, there's good to be got out of most
+things."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes' gaze came back from the wide-stretching scene beside her, and
+rested enquiringly on the old speaker.  "Do 'ee think so?" she asked
+eagerly.  "'Tis dreadful to be filled with doubts about what you're
+doing," she added pathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't 'ee doubt, ma'am.  Once you've weighed the matter and looked at it
+every way, and have at last made up your mind, don't you let yourself
+harbour any doubts.  Act as if you hadn't got any choice, and go straight
+ahead."</p>
+
+<p>"But how is anyone to know?  It may be that one took the way 'cause it was
+the easiest."</p>
+
+<p>"Very often it's the easiest way 'cause it's the way the Lord has opened
+for us," said the old man simply, and with perfect faith.  "Then I count
+it we're doubting Him if we go on questioning."</p>
+
+<p>The look of strained anxiety in Granny Barnes' eyes had already given way
+to one more peaceful and contented.</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't thought of that," she said softly, and presently she added, "It
+takes a load off one's mind if one looks at it that way."</p>
+
+<p>Mona, who had been listening too, found John Darbie's words repeating
+themselves over and over again in her mind.  "There's always something we
+can do&mdash;there's good to be got out of most things."  They set themselves
+to the rhythm of the old horse's slow steps&mdash;"There is always something&mdash;
+there is always something&mdash;we can do&mdash;we can do, there is always something
+we can do."</p>
+
+<p>Throughout that long, slow journey on that sunshiny day they rang in her
+head, and her heart chanted them.  And though in the years that followed
+she often forgot her good resolutions, and many and many a time did wrong
+and foolish things, knowing them to be wrong and foolish, though she let
+herself be swayed by her moods, when she should have fought against them,
+she never entirely forgot old John Darbie's simple, comforting words, nor
+the lesson they had taught her that day, and unconsciously they helped her
+on her life's road, just as he himself helped her along her road to her
+new home.</p>
+
+<p>There was indeed a great deal that she could do, as she discovered
+presently, when the van deposited them and their parcels at the door of
+their new home, for the furniture had arrived but a couple of hours
+earlier, and though her father and the man had lifted most of the heavier
+things into their places, and Lucy had done all that she could to make the
+little house look habitable, there was much that Mona, knowing her
+grandmother's ways as well as she did, could do better than anyone else.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the van drew near, Lucy was at the door to greet them, and in
+the warmth and pleasure of her welcome, Mona entirely forgot the
+circumstances under which they had last parted: and it never once occurred
+to her to think how different their meeting might have been had Lucy not
+been of the sweet-tempered forgiving nature that she was.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy had forgotten too.  She only remembered how glad she was to have them
+there, and what a trying day it must have been for poor old Granny Barnes.
+And when, instead of the stern, cold, complaining old woman that she had
+expected, she saw a fragile, pale-faced little figure, standing looking
+forlorn, weary, and half-frightened on the path outside her new home,
+Lucy quite forgot her dread of her, and her whole heart went out in
+sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>Putting her arms round her, she kissed her as warmly as though it had been
+her own mother, and led her tenderly into the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you trouble about a single thing more, granny, there are plenty of
+us to see to everything.  The fire is burning, and your own armchair is
+put by it, and all you've got to do is to sit there till you're rested and
+tell us others what you'd like done."</p>
+
+<p>Granny Barnes did not speak, but Lucy understood.  She took up the poker
+and stirred the coals to a more cheerful blaze.  "It's a fine little stove
+to burn," she said cheerfully, "and it is as easy as possible to light."</p>
+
+<p>Granny was interested at once, "Is it?  How beautiful and bright it is.
+Did you do that, Lucy?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucy nodded.  "I love polishing up a stove," she said with a smile,
+"it repays you so for the trouble you take.  Don't you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I used to spend hours over mine, but I don't seem to have the
+strength now.  Mona does very well though.  Where's Peter?  Out fishing?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he's upstairs putting up your bed.  He has nearly done.  Mona's is up
+already.  You've got a sweet little room, Mona.  You'll love it, I know."</p>
+
+<p>Mona ran upstairs at once to inspect.  She was bubbling over with
+excitement and happiness.  Her room was, she knew, at the back of the
+house, so she went to it straight.  It was in a great muddle, of course,
+but the bed was in place, and the chest of drawers.  The walls had been
+newly papered, the paper had little bunches of field daisies all over it,
+white and red-tipped, each bunch was tied with a blade of green grass.
+Mona thought it perfectly exquisite, but it was the window which took her
+fancy captive.  It was a lattice window, cut deep in the wall, and before
+it was a seat wide enough for Mona to sit in&mdash;and beyond the window was
+the sea!</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be able to sit there, and read, and sew, and watch the boats going
+by," she thought delightedly, "and I'll have little muslin curtains tied
+back with ribbons, and a flounce of muslin across the top.  Oh, I shall
+love it up here!  I shall never want to go out.  It's nicer even than my
+room at father's, and ever so much nicer than the 'Hillside' one!"</p>
+
+<p>A sound of hammering and banging came from the other side of the tiny
+landing.</p>
+
+<p>"That must be father, putting up granny's bed," she hurried out, and
+across to him.  He had just finished, and was pushing the bed into place.
+Two great bundles tied up in sheets filled up most of the rest of the
+floor.  One held Granny Barnes' feather-tie, the other her pillow-cases,
+sheets and blankets.</p>
+
+<p>"I do hope your grandmother'll be well and comfortable here," he said
+anxiously, "and happy.  If it rests with us to make her so, she shall be.
+Mona, you'd better make up her bed soon.  Don't leave it for her to do
+herself.  She'll most likely be glad to go to bed early to-night, she must
+be tired.  There's no moving round the room, either, with those great
+bundles there.  I'll lift the feather-tie on to the bed for you."</p>
+
+<p>"All right&mdash;in a minute, father."</p>
+
+<p>Granny's bedroom window looked out on the hill.  Further up the hill, on
+the opposite side, was Cliff Cottage.  It could be just seen from granny's
+new home.  How small and strange it all looked, thought Mona, and how
+narrow the hill was, but how homelike and beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>While she gazed out Millie Higgins and Philippa Luxmore appeared, they
+were coming down the hill together.  Millie had on a pink dress almost
+exactly like Mona's.</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;why, she's copied me!" thought Mona indignantly, a wave of hot anger
+surging up in her heart.  "She's a regular copy-cat!  She can't think of a
+thing for herself, but directly anyone else has it, she must go and copy
+them.  I'd be ashamed if I was her.  Now I shan't like my pink frock any
+more!"</p>
+
+<p>As though attracted by the gaze on her, Millie looked up at the window,
+and straight into Mona's eyes, but instead of feeling any shame, she only
+laughed.  She may not have remembered her own frock, or Mona's, she was
+probably not laughing at Mona's annoyance, it is very likely that she was
+amused at something she and Philippa were talking about, but Mona thought
+otherwise, and only glared back at her with angry, contemptuous eyes.
+She saw Millie's face change, and saw her whisper in Philippa's ear,
+then she heard them both laugh, and her heart was fuller than ever of
+hatred, and mortification.  Mortification with herself partly, for
+allowing Millie to see that she was vexed.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, how she wished now, that instead of letting Millie see how she had
+annoyed her, she had acted as though she did not notice, or did not mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona, give me a hand here a minute, will you?"  Her father's voice broke
+in on her musings, "that rope is caught round the bedpost."</p>
+
+<p>Mona went over, and released the rope, but returned again to the window.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't bustle round, little maid, we shall never be done," said her
+father.  "I want to get it all as right as I can before I go, or your
+grand-mother'll be doing it herself, and making herself ill again.
+You can look out of window another day, there'll be plenty of time for
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm tired," grumbled Mona sulkily, "I can't be always working."</p>
+
+<p>Her father straightened his back, and looked at her.  His eyes were
+reproachful and grieved.  Mona's own eyes fell before them.  Already she
+was sorry that she had spoken so.  She did not feel in the least as she
+had said she did.  She was put out about Millie, and Millie's frock, that
+was all.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona, my girl," he said gravely, "you put me in mind of a weather-cock in
+a shifty wind.  Nobody can tell for half an hour together what quarter
+it'll be pointing to.  'Tis the shifty wind that does the most mischief
+and is hardest to bear with.  When you came in just now, I'd have said you
+were pointing straight south, but a few minutes later you've veered right
+round to the north-east.  What's the meaning of it, child?  What's the
+matter with 'ee.  It doesn't give 'ee much pleasure to know you're
+spoiling everybody else's, does it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona gulped down her tears.  "No&mdash;o, I&mdash;I&mdash;it was Millie Higgins' fault.
+She's been and got a dress&mdash;&mdash;"  And then she suddenly felt ashamed of
+herself, and ashamed to repeat anything so petty, and she gulped again,
+and this time she swallowed her bad temper too.  "No&mdash;I'm&mdash;I'm 'set fair'
+now, father!" she added, and, though there was a choke in her voice,
+as though her temper was rather hard to swallow, there was a smile in her
+eyes, and in a very little while granny's feather-bed was shaken up as
+soft and smooth as ever granny herself could have made it, and the bed was
+made up.  And then by degrees everything in the room was got into place
+just as its mistress liked it, so that when granny came up later on and
+saw her new room, she exclaimed aloud in pleased surprise:</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it looks like home already," she cried, "and that's our Mona's
+doing, I know!"</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0010"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mona sat reading, curled upon the window seat in her bedroom.  She spent a
+great deal of her time there.  Sometimes sewing, but more often either
+reading, or looking out at the view.  For a few days she had been busy
+making curtains for her window, and a frill to go across the top, and,
+as granny had firmly refused to buy wide pink ribbon to fasten back the
+curtains, Mona had hemmed long strips of some of the print left over from
+her own pink dress.</p>
+
+<p>But all this was done now, and Mona was very proud of her handiwork.
+The frill was a little deeper on one side than the other, but that was a
+trifle.  Mona thought that the whole effect was very smart; so smart,
+indeed, that she sometimes wished that her window was in the front of the
+house, so that people going up and down the hill might see it.
+"But I s'pose one can't have everything," she concluded, with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>Granny's window, which did look out on the hill, was anything but smart,
+for she had had neither time nor strength to make her curtains, and Mona
+had not offered to make them for her.</p>
+
+<p>Granny had gone up to Lucy's that very afternoon, and taken them with her,
+hoping to work at them a little while she talked.  She often went up to
+sit with Lucy.  Perhaps she found it dull at home, with Mona always shut
+up in her own room.  Lucy's garden delighted her too.  She had none
+herself that could compare with it.  In the front there was a tiny patch
+close under her window, and there was a long strip at the back, but only a
+very few things had the courage to grow there, for the wind caught it, and
+the salt sea-spray came up over it, and blighted every speck of green that
+had the courage to put its head out.  Lucy's garden and Lucy's kitchen
+both delighted her.  She said the kitchen was more cheerful than hers,
+but it was really Lucy's presence that made it so.  Lucy was always so
+pleased to see her, so ready to listen to her stories, or to tell her own,
+if granny was too tired to talk.  She always listened to her advice, too,
+which was quite a new experience to Mrs. Barnes.</p>
+
+<p>This afternoon, while granny was talking, and taking a stitch
+occasionally, Lucy picked up the other curtain and made it.  It was not a
+very big matter; all the windows in Seacombe houses were small.  Then she
+put on the kettle, and while it was boiling she took the other curtain
+from granny's frail hand and worked away at that too.  The weather was
+hot, and the door stood wide open, letting in the mingled scents of the
+many sweet flowers which filled every foot of the garden.  A sweet-brier
+bush stood near the window, great clumps of stocks, mignonette and
+verbenas lined the path to the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't mean to stay to tea," said granny, realizing at last that Lucy
+was preparing some for her.  "I was going to get home in time."</p>
+
+<p>"Mona won't have got it, will she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, she won't think about it, I expect.  She has got a book, and when
+she's reading she's lost to everything.  I never knew a child so fond of
+reading."</p>
+
+<p>"You spoil her, granny!  You let her have her own way too much."</p>
+
+<p>Then they both laughed, for each accused the other of 'spoiling' Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like her to work too hard," said granny.  "She'd got to look very
+thin and delicate.  I think she's looking better, though, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ever so much," Lucy reassured her, and granny's face brightened.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, meanwhile, went on reading, lost, as granny said, to everything but
+her book.  She did not even look out to sea.  She heard no sound either in
+the house or out.  Heart and mind she was with the people of the story.
+She was living their life.</p>
+
+<p>The baker came and knocked two or three times; then, opening the door,
+put a loaf on the table, and went away.  Then presently came more
+knocking, and more, but none of it reached Mona's brain.  She was flying
+with the heroine, and enjoying hairbreadth escapes, while running away
+from her wicked guardian, when her bedroom door was flung open, and Millie
+Higgins&mdash;not the wicked guardian&mdash;appeared on the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>Mona gave a little cry of alarm, then immediately grew angry with herself
+for having let Millie see that she had startled her.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing up here?" she demanded, bluntly.  "Who told you to
+come up? Granny isn't in, is she?"</p>
+
+<p>Millie laughed.  "If your grandmother had been in I should have been at
+the other end of the street by this time.  I've no fancy for facing
+dragons in their caves."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be rude," retorted Mona, colouring with anger.  Millie always
+laughed at Mrs. Barnes, because she was old-fashioned in her dress and
+ways.  "How did you get in, and why did you come?  If granny didn't send
+you up, you'd no right to come.  It's like your cheek, Millie Higgins, to
+go forcing your way into other people's houses!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's like your carelessness to shut yourself up with a story-book and
+leave your front door open.  I ain't the first that has been in!
+Wouldn't your grandmother be pleased if she knew how trustworthy her dear,
+good little Mona was."</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked frightened, and Millie noticed it.  "What do you mean,
+Millie?"</p>
+
+<p>Millie had seen the baker come, knock, open the door, and leave again
+after depositing a loaf on the table.  She had also seen Mrs. Barnes
+comfortably settled in Lucy Carne's kitchen, and she determined to have
+some fun.  She loved teasing and annoying everyone she could.</p>
+
+<p>"Come down and see what they've done.  At any rate, you might be civil to
+anyone who comes in to warn you before any more harm is done."</p>
+
+<p>Mona, still looking alarmed, slipped from the window-seat and followed
+Millie down the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>While she stood at the foot of them, glancing about her anxiously, Millie
+stepped over and shut the house door.</p>
+
+<p>"Where?&mdash;What?&mdash;I don't see anything wrong," said Mona.  Millie burst into
+mocking laughter.  "I don't suppose you do!  Silly-billy, cock-a-dilly,
+how's your mother, little Mona! Why, how stupid you are! Anyone can get a
+rise out of you! I only wanted to frighten you and get you downstairs.
+You're going to ask me to tea now, and give me a nice one, too, aren't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona was trembling with mortification and anger.  "No, I am not," she
+said, "and if you don't go out of here in a minute I'll&mdash;I'll&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no&mdash;you won't, dear.  You couldn't if you wanted to&mdash;but you don't
+really want to, I know.  Now poke up the fire and get me some tea.
+I hope you have something nice to eat."</p>
+
+<p>Mona stood by the dressers, her thoughts flying wildly through her brain.
+What could she do?  Millie was taller, older, and stronger than herself,
+so she could not seize her, and put her out by force.  Mona knew, too,
+that she would not listen to pleading or to coaxing.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if only someone would come!"  She made a move towards the door, but
+Millie was too quick for her, and got between her and it.</p>
+
+<p>"Millie, you've got to go away.  You'll get me into an awful row if you
+are found here, and&mdash;and I can't think how you can push yourself in where
+you ain't wanted."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, fie!  Little girls shouldn't be rude&mdash;it shows they haven't been
+properly brought up."</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not answer.  She was trying to think what she could do.  If she
+went out of the house would Millie follow?</p>
+
+<p>Millie picked up a newspaper, and pretended to read it, but over the top
+of it she was watching Mona all the time.  She loved teasing, and she
+thought she had power to make younger girls do just as she wished.
+But Mona stood leaning against the dressers, showing no sign of giving in.</p>
+
+<p>Millie grew impatient.  "Wake up, can't you!" she cried, and, picking up a
+cushion from an armchair beside her, she threw it across the room at Mona.
+"I want my tea!"</p>
+
+<p>The cushion flew past Mona without touching her, but it fell full crash
+against the china on the dressers behind her.  Mona screamed, and tried to
+catch what she could of the falling things.  Cups, plate, jugs came
+rolling down on the top of those below.  What could one pair of small
+hands do to save them!</p>
+
+<p>The set, a tea-set, and her grandmother's most treasured possession, had
+been kept for a hundred years without a chip or a crack.  It had been her
+grandmother's and her great-grandmother's before that.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, white to the lips, and trembling, stood like an image of despair.
+Her hands were cut, but she did not notice that.  Millie was pale, too,
+and really frightened, though she tried to brazen it out.  "Now there'll
+be a fine old row, and you will be in it, Mona Carne.  It was all your
+fault, you know."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona felt no fear for herself yet.  She could think of nothing but her
+grandmother's grief when she learned of the calamity which had befallen
+her.  Somebody had to break the news to her, too, and that somebody would
+have to be herself.  Mona leaned her elbows on the dressers amongst the
+broken china and, burying her face in her hands, burst into a torrent of
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>Millie spoke to her once or twice, but Mona could not reply.  "Well, if
+she won't open her lips, I might as well go," thought Millie, and,
+creeping out of the front door, she hurried away down the hill, only too
+delighted to have got away so easily.</p>
+
+<p>Mona heard her go, but made no effort to stop her.  She felt too utterly
+miserable even to reproach her.</p>
+
+<p>Presently other footsteps came to the door, followed by a gentle knocking.
+Mona, in consternation, straightened herself and wiped her eyes.
+"Who can it be?  I can't go to the door like this!"  Her face was crimson,
+and her eyes were nearly closed, they were so swelled.</p>
+
+<p>The knock was repeated.  "Mona, may I come in?"  It was Patty Row's voice.
+Mona was fond of Patty, and she had begun to long for sympathy and advice.</p>
+
+<p>"Cub id," she called out as well as she could.  "Cub id, Paddy."
+Patty opened the door.  "What a dreadful cold you've got," she said,
+sympathetically.  "I've just seen your grandmother, and she asked me to
+tell you she's having tea with Lucy."  Mona turned and faced her.</p>
+
+<p>"Why!&mdash;Why! Mona!  Oh, my!  Whatever is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona's tears began again, nearly preventing her explanation.
+"Millie Higgins came in, and&mdash;and got teasing me, and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I've just seen her hurrying home," cried Patty.  "I thought she came out
+from here.  What has she done, Mona?  She's always bullying somebody."</p>
+
+<p>"She&mdash;she threw the cushion at me, 'cause&mdash;'cause I didn't get her some
+tea, and&mdash;oh, Patty, what shall I do?&mdash;just look at what she has done.
+That tea-set was more than a hundred years old, and&mdash;and granny thinks the
+world of it&mdash;and I've got to tell her."  Mona's voice rose to a pitiful
+wail.  "Oh, my.  I wish&mdash;I wish I was dead.  I wish&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That'd only be another great trouble for her to bear," said wise little
+Patty, soberly.  "Millie ought to tell her, of course.  It's her doing.
+P'raps that is where she has gone."</p>
+
+<p>Mona shook her head.  She had no hope of Millie's doing that.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Patty, in her determined little way, "if she doesn't it
+shan't be for want of being told that she ought to."</p>
+
+<p>"She'll never do it," said Mona, hopelessly.  "I'll have to bear the
+blame.  I can't sneak on Millie, and&mdash;and so granny'll always think I did
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Patty pursed up her pretty lips.  "Will she?" she thought to herself.
+"She won't if I can help it," but she did not say so aloud.  "Let's sort
+it out, and see how much really is broken," she said, lifting off the
+fatal cushion.  "P'raps it isn't as bad as it looks."</p>
+
+<p>Mona shook her head despondently.  "It sounded as if every bit was
+smashed.  There's one cup in half, and a plate with a piece out&mdash;no, those
+jugs were common ones, they don't matter so much," as Patty picked up a
+couple, one with its handle off, the other all in pieces.  "Here's a cup
+without any handle&mdash;oh, poor granny, it'll break her heart, and&mdash;and
+she'll never forgive me.  I don't see how she can.  Oh, Patty!
+Did anybody in all the world ever have such a trouble before?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't be surprised," said Patty.  "There, that's the lot, Mona.
+It's bad enough, but not so bad as it seemed at first.  There's two cups,
+a plate, and a saucer of the set broken.  Two jugs, a basin, and a plate
+of the common things."</p>
+
+<p>She put the broken bits of the tea-set on the table, and began to arrange
+what was left on the dressers, so as to conceal the painful gaps.
+"There, it doesn't look so dreadful now.  What had we better do next,
+Mona?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona turned away and dropped into granny's big chair.  "I&mdash;I've got to
+tell her, that's what I'd better do next!" she cried.  She flung her arms
+out on the table, and buried her face in them, sobbing aloud in her
+misery.</p>
+
+<p>Patty, alarmed at her grief, went over and put her arms around her shaking
+shoulders.  "Mona!&mdash;Mona, dear, don't cry so.  You'll be ill.  I'll go and
+tell Mrs. Barnes about it, and&mdash;and I'll tell her it wasn't your fault."</p>
+
+<p>A slight sound made them both look towards the door&mdash;and they saw that
+there was no longer any need for anyone to break the news.  Granny Barnes
+knew it already.</p>
+
+<p>For what seemed to the two girls minutes and minutes, no one uttered a
+word.  Granny with wide eyes and stricken face, stood staring at her
+broken treasures, and the two girls stared at granny.  All three faces
+were tragic.  At last she came slowly forward, and took up one of the
+broken pieces.  Her poor old hands were shaking uncontrollably.</p>
+
+<p>Mona sprang to her, and flung her arms about her.  "Oh, granny, granny,
+what can I do?  It&mdash;was an accident&mdash;I mean, I couldn't help it.
+Oh, I'd sooner anything had happened to me than to your tea-set."</p>
+
+<p>Patty Row slipped out of the house, and gently closed the door behind her.
+She had meant to stay and speak up for Mona, but something told her that
+there would be no need for that.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mrs. Barnes dropped heavily into her seat.  "I wouldn't then, dear.
+There's worse disasters than&mdash;than broken china."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's sobs ceased abruptly.  She was so astonished at her grandmother's
+manner of taking her trouble, she could scarcely believe her senses.
+"But I&mdash;I thought you prized it so, granny&mdash;above everything?"</p>
+
+<p>"So I did," said granny, pathetically.  "I think I prized it too much,
+but when you get old, child, and&mdash;and the end of life's journey is in
+sight, you&mdash;you&mdash;well, somehow, these things don't seem to matter so much.
+'Tis you will be the loser, dearie.  When I'm gone the things will be
+yours.  I've had a good many years with my old treasures for company,
+so I can't complain."</p>
+
+<p>Mona stood looking at her grandmother with a dawning fear on her face.
+"Granny, you ain't ill, are you?  You don't feel bad, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes shook her head.  "No, I ain't ill, only a bit tired.
+It's just that the things that used to matter don't seem to, now,
+and those that&mdash;that, well, those that did seem to me to come second,
+they matter most&mdash;they seem to be the only ones that matter at all."</p>
+
+<p>Patty Row had done well to go away and leave the two alone just then.
+Granny, with a new sense of peace resting on her, which even the loss of
+her cherished treasures could not disturb, and Mona, with a strange
+seriousness, a foreboding of coming trouble on her, which awakened her
+heart to a new sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, child, how you must have cried to swell your eyes up like that."
+Granny, rousing herself at last out of a day-dream, for the first time
+noticed poor Mona's face.  "Isn't your head aching?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dreadfully," sighed Mona, realizing for the first time how acute the
+pain was.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't I see Patty here when I came in?  Where has she gone?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Patty didn't break the things, did she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she tell you what she came about?"</p>
+
+<p>"To tell me you were having tea with mother."</p>
+
+<p>"But there was more than that.  She came to ask if you'd go to Sunday
+School with her on Sunday.  Her teacher told her to ask you.  You used to
+go, didn't you?  Why have you given it up?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona nodded, but she coloured a little.  "I thought the girls&mdash;all knew
+about&mdash;about my running away."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think they do&mdash;but I don't see that that matters.  You'd like to
+go again, wouldn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'd like to go with Patty.  Miss Lester's her teacher, and they've
+got a library belonging to their class.  You can have a book every week to
+bring home."  Mona's face grew quite bright, but a faint shadow had crept
+over granny's.</p>
+
+<p>"You read a lot, Mona.  So many stories and things ain't good for you.
+Do you ever read your Bible?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked surprised.  "N&mdash;no.  I haven't got it here.  It's up at
+Lucy's."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes groaned.  "Oh, child, to think of our not having a Bible in
+the house between us!"</p>
+
+<p>"There's the Fam'ly Bible back there," said Mona, quickly, feeling
+suddenly that a house without a Bible in it was not safe.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but it's never opened, not even to look at the pictures.  If you had
+one in every room in the house you wouldn't be any the better for it if
+you never read them, and&mdash;and acted 'pon what you're taught there."</p>
+
+<p>"But if you can't see to read," said Mona, trying to find excuses,
+"what's the good of your having a Bible?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you can see, and can read too, and I could till lately, and, anyway,
+you can read to me, and that's what I ought to have got you to do.
+I feel I haven't done my duty by you, child."</p>
+
+<p>Mona threw up her head.  "I don't s'pose we're any worse than some that
+read their Bibles every day," she said, complacently.  She had often heard
+others say that, and thought it rather fine.</p>
+
+<p>"That's not for you or me to say," retorted granny sternly.  "That's the
+excuse folks always bring out when they ain't ashamed of themselves, but
+ought to be.  If we ain't any worse, we ain't any better, and until we are
+we've no right to speak of others; and if we are&mdash;why, we shouldn't think
+of doing so.  Most folks, though, who say that, do think themselves a deal
+better than others, though they don't say so in as many words."</p>
+
+<p>Mona stood staring into the fire, thinking matters over.  She was very apt
+to take things to herself, and she was trying to assure herself that she
+never did think herself better than others&mdash;not better even than Millie
+Higgins.  But she was not very well satisfied with the result.</p>
+
+<p>Granny's voice died away, the sun went down, and the room began to grow
+dim.  Two lumps of coal fell together, and, bursting into a blaze, roused
+Mona from her reverie.  She turned quickly, and found her grandmother
+gazing at the two halves of the broken tea-cup which she held in her
+hands.  In the light of the fire tears glistened on her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>Mona felt a sudden great longing to comfort her, to make life happier for
+her.  "Granny, would you have liked me to have read some of my books to
+you sometimes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very much, dearie.  I always loved a nice story."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;why ever didn't you say so before."  The words broke from Mona like a
+cry of reproach.  "I didn't know, I never thought&mdash;I thought you'd think
+them silly or&mdash;or&mdash;something."</p>
+
+<p>"I know&mdash;it wasn't your fault.  Sometimes I think it'd be better if we
+asked more of each other, and didn't try to be so independent.  It's those
+that you do most for that you care most for&mdash;and miss most when they're
+gone!" added granny, half under her breath.</p>
+
+<p>Once again Mona was struck by the curious change in granny's tone and
+manner, and felt a depressing sense of foreboding.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like me to read to you now, granny?  Out of&mdash;of the Bible?"
+She hesitated, as though shy of even speaking the name.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dearie, I'd dearly love to hear the 86th Psalm."</p>
+
+<p>Mona hurriedly lifted the big book out from under the mats and odds and
+ends that were arranged on its side.  She had never read aloud from the
+Bible before, and at any other time her shyness would have almost overcome
+her.  To-day, though, she was possessed with a feeling that in the Bible
+she would perhaps find something that would rouse and cheer granny, and
+charm her own fears away, and she was in a hurry to get it and begin.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0011"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Patty found Millie Higgins down on the Quay, where she was shouting and
+laughing with five or six others who were playing 'Last Touch.'
+No one would have guessed that she had left two sad and aching hearts and
+a ruined treasure behind her but half an hour ago.</p>
+
+<p>Patty, with a growing scorn in her eyes, stood by talking to Philippa
+Luxmore until the game had finished.  She meant not to lose sight of
+Millie until she had had her say.  Millie caught sight of Patty, though,
+and dashed into another game without any pause.  She did not know that
+Patty had come especially to speak to her, but she did not want to have
+anything to say to Patty&mdash;not for a while, at any rate.  She would rather
+wait until the events of the afternoon had been forgotten a little.</p>
+
+<p>Patty guessed, though, what her purpose was, and, after she had waited for
+another game to end, she went boldly up to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Millie," she said, without any beating about the bush, "I've come to ask
+you to go and tell Mrs. Barnes that it was you that broke her beautiful
+tea-set."</p>
+
+<p>Millie coloured, but she only laughed contemptuously.  The rest of the
+little crowd looked on and listened, open-mouthed.  "Dear me!  Have you
+really, Miss Poll Pry!  Well, now you have asked me you can go home again,
+and attend to your own affairs.  We don't want you here."</p>
+
+<p>Patty took no notice of her rudeness.  "Millie," she pleaded, "you will
+tell?  You won't let Mona bear the blame."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what you're talking about&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you do.  I saw you come out.  I mean, I thought that was where
+you came from.  I was just going in to speak to Mona myself, and I found
+her&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mona Carne's a sneak."</p>
+
+<p>"No, she isn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she needn't tell her grandmother that she knows anything about it.
+It might have been the wind blew the things over, or a cat.  If I was Mona
+I'd go out to play, and let her come in and find the things."</p>
+
+<p>"Mona couldn't be so mean and underhand.  Mrs. Barnes knows about it
+already, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Then there's no need for me to tell her," retorted Millie, dancing away.
+"Ta-ta, Patty-preacher."</p>
+
+<p>Patty's patience gave out, she could not hide her disgust any longer.</p>
+
+<p>"Millie Higgins, I knew you were a bully and a coward, but I didn't know
+how mean a coward you were."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice rang out shrill with indignation, attracting the attention of
+everyone around.  The children stopped their play to stare; two or three
+people stopped their talk to listen.  They looked from Patty to Millie,
+and back again in shocked surprise.  Patty's voice was not so much angry
+as it was contemptuous, disgusted.  Millie could have better borne anger.
+People would then have thought Patty merely a cross child, and have passed
+on.  Instead of that they looked at her sympathetically, and at Millie
+askance.</p>
+
+<p>Millie walked away with her head in the air, but she was furious.
+"I'll pay her out!" she thought.  "I'll pay her out yet!"  She was so
+angry she could not get out a retort to Patty.  Her words seemed to catch
+in her throat and choke her.</p>
+
+<p>Patty walked away to the end of the Quay, and leaned out over the
+railings, looking towards the sea.  She was disheartened and angry,
+and ashamed of herself.  She was horribly ashamed of having called out
+like that to Millie.  It was a mean, common thing to do.  She felt she
+wanted to get out of sight, to escape the questions and chatter they would
+pour into her ears.  She would wait where she was until everyone else had
+gone home.  If anyone followed her, they would soon go away again when
+they found she would not talk to them.</p>
+
+<p>She got behind a tall stack of boxes, and turned her back on everyone.
+Her face was turned to the sea; her eyes gazed at the heaving waters,
+and the sun setting behind them, but her thoughts were with Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"How she did cry, poor Mona!  I didn't know she cared for her granny so
+much."  Then she wondered what they were doing at that moment, and how
+Mrs. Barnes was taking her loss.  By degrees the sun disappeared
+altogether, and twilight began to creep over her world.  Gradually the
+sounds of play and laughter and gossiping voices ceased.  One by one old
+folks and young went home.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd better go too," thought Patty, "or mother will be wondering where I
+am.  Oh, dear, there's my bootlace untied again!"  Still standing close to
+the edge of the Quay, she had stooped to tie the lace when, suddenly from
+behind, she received a blow in the back which sent her completely off her
+balance.  Reeling forward, she grabbed wildly at the rail to try and save
+herself, but missed it, and with a shriek of terror she fell over the edge
+and into the water below.  With another shriek she disappeared, and the
+water closed over her.</p>
+
+<p>Whence the blow came, or how, she had not time to think.  It seemed to her
+as though the sky had fallen and struck her.  She did not hear another cry
+which broke from someone's throat as her body disappeared, nor hear or see
+Millie Higgins running as though the police were already after her.</p>
+
+<p>Millie's first instinct was to get as far from the scene as possible.
+No one must know that she had been anywhere near the fatal spot.
+Then, fortunately, better and less selfish thoughts came to her.
+Patty was there alone in the deep cold water, in the dimness, fighting for
+her life.  If help did not come to her quickly she would die&mdash;and who was
+there to help but herself?</p>
+
+<p>"Patty!" she called.  "Patty! Where are you?"  Her voice rose high and
+shrill with terror.  "Oh, Patty, do speak!"</p>
+
+<p>Then up through the water came a small, dark head and white face, and
+then, to Millie's intense relief, a pair of waving arms.</p>
+
+<p>She was not dead, and she was conscious.  "Oh, thank God!" moaned Millie,
+and for perhaps the first time in her life she really thanked Him, and
+sent up a real prayer from the depths of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Patty," she called, "swim towards me.  I'll help you."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Patty heard her, but as one speaking in a dream, for her senses were
+fast leaving her.  Summoning up all the strength she had, she tried to
+obey, but she had only made a few strokes when she suddenly dropped her
+arms and sank again.</p>
+
+<p>With a cry of horror and despair, Millie rushed down and into the water.
+She could not swim, but she did not think of that now.  Nothing else
+mattered if she could but save Patty.  She waded into the water until she
+could scarcely touch the bottom with her feet.  A big wave came rolling
+in; one so big that it seemed as though it must carry her off her feet,
+and away to sea.</p>
+
+<p>It came, but it lifted her back quite close to the steps, and it brought
+poor little unconscious Patty almost close to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>Millie reached out and grabbed her by her hair and her skirt, and gripped
+her tight, but it was not easy.  Patty was a dead weight, and she had to
+keep her own foothold or both would have been carried away as the wave
+receded.  Millie felt desperate.  She could not raise Patty, heavy as she
+was in her water-soaked clothes, and Patty, still unconscious, could not
+help herself.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, at that moment, Peter Carne came rowing leisurely homewards,
+and in his boat with him was Patty Row's father.</p>
+
+<p>Millie caught sight of them, and a great sob of relief broke from her.
+She shouted and shouted at the top of her voice, and, clinging to Patty
+with one hand, she waved the other frantically.  "Would they see?
+Would they see?"  She screamed until she felt she had cracked her throat.
+"Oh, what a noise the sea made!" she thought frantically, "how could
+anyone's voice get above it."</p>
+
+<p>They heard or caught sight of her at last.  Her straining eyes saw the
+boat heading for them.  She saw Patty's father spring up and wave to them,
+then seize another pair of oars, and pull till the lumbering great boat
+seemed to skim the waves.  Then strong arms gripped them and lifted them
+into safety, and a moment or two later they were on the Quay once more,
+and hurrying homewards.</p>
+
+<p>Before she had been in her father's arms for many minutes Patty opened her
+big blue eyes, and looked about her wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Where&mdash;am&mdash;I?" she asked, through her chattering teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"You're in your old dad's arms now," said her father, brokenly, but with
+an attempt at a smile, "but you'll be rolled up in blankets in a few
+minutes, and popped into bed.  It's where you have been that matters most.
+How did you come to be taking a dip at this time, little maid, and with
+your boots on too?"</p>
+
+<p>"I fell in," whispered Patty, and closed her eyes again as the tiresome
+faintness crept over her.</p>
+
+<p>"It was my fault," sobbed Millie, thoroughly subdued and softened,
+and slightly hysterical too.  "I&mdash;I didn't mean to push her into the
+water&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It was an accident," said Patty, coming back out of her dreaminess.
+"I was stooping down&mdash;and overbalanced&mdash;that was all.  I was tying up my
+boot-lace."  And as she insisted on this, and would say nothing more,
+everyone decided that there was nothing more to say; and, as she had
+received no real injury, and was soon out and about again, the matter was
+gradually forgotten&mdash;by all, at least, but the two actors in what might
+have been an awful tragedy.</p>
+
+<p>Patty received no real injury, but it was a very white and tired little
+Patty who called on Mona on the following Sunday to go with her to Sunday
+School.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, having a shrewd suspicion that Patty could have told much more if
+she had chosen, was longing to ask questions, but Patty was not
+encouraging.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you think you were really going to die?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Patty, simply.</p>
+
+<p>"What did it feel like?  Were you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you." Patty's voice was very grave.  "Don't ask me, Mona.
+It's&mdash;it's too solemn to talk about."</p>
+
+<p>When they reached the school-yard gate, Millie Higgins came towards them.
+"Then you're able to come, Patty!  I'm so glad."  There was real feeling
+in Millie's words.  Her voice was full of an enormous relief.  Mona was
+astonished.  She herself did not look at Millie or speak to her.  She had
+not forgiven her for that afternoon's work, and she more than suspected
+her of being the cause of Patty's accident.</p>
+
+<p>As Millie did not move away, Mona strolled across with Patty still
+clinging to her arm, to where a group of girls stood talking together.
+Millie Higgins, with a rush of colour to her face, turned away and joined
+another group, but the group apparently did not see her, for none of them
+spoke to her, and Millie very soon moved away again to where two girls
+stood together, but as she approached the two they hastily linked arms
+and, turning their back on her, walked into the schoolroom.  Mona noticed
+both incidents, and, beginning to suspect something, kept both eyes and
+ears open.  Her suspicions were soon confirmed.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe that all the girls are giving Millie the cold shoulder,"
+she whispered at last in Patty's ear.  "They must have planned it all
+before.  You just watch for a few minutes.  She has been up to ever so
+many, and then, as soon as they notice her, they move away.  I wonder
+what's the meaning of it?  Millie notices it herself.  You just look at
+her.  She's as uncomfortable as she can be."</p>
+
+<p>Patty raised her head sharply, and followed the direction of Mona's eyes.
+Millie was just joining on to a group of four or five.  Patty saw a glance
+exchanged, and two girls turned on their heels at once; then another, and
+another, until Millie, with scared face and eyes full of shame and pain,
+stood alone once more.  She looked ready to cry with mortification.</p>
+
+<p>Patty, her face rosy with indignation, called across the yard to her; her
+clear voice raised so that all should hear.  "Millie, will you come for a
+walk when we come out of school this afternoon?"  Then going over and
+thrusting her arm through Millie's, she led her back to where Mona was
+still standing.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona is going, too, ain't you, Mona?  I don't know, though, if we shall
+have much time for a walk; we're going to the Library to choose a book
+each.  Which do you think Mona would like?"</p>
+
+<p>But Millie could not answer.  The unkindness she had met with that morning
+and the kindness had stabbed deep; so deep that her eyes were full of
+tears, and her throat choked with sobs.  Mona, looking up, saw it, and all
+her resentment against her faded.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you'd come, too, Millie, and help us choose," she said.  "You read
+so much, you know which are the nicest."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Millie, in a choked kind of voice.  "I'd love to."
+And then the doors opened, and they all trooped into their places.</p>
+
+<p>When they came out from the morning service each went home with her own
+people.  Patty, looking fragile and pale, was helped along by her father.
+Mona joined her father and grandmother.  She was quiet, and had very
+little to say.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you like your class?" asked granny.  She was a little puzzled by
+Mona's manner.  She had expected her to be full of excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I liked it very much," but she did not add anything more then.
+It was not until evening, when they were sitting together in the
+firelight, that she opened her heart on the subject.  "I wish I'd known
+our teacher all my life," she said, with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, dearie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;I don't know&mdash;gran&mdash;but she makes you see things, and she makes you
+feel so&mdash;so&mdash;well as if you do want to be good, and yet you feel you want
+to cry."</p>
+
+<p>"Try and tell me what she said," said granny.  "Perhaps 'twould help an
+old body, too."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona could not do that, nor could she put her feelings into words very
+well.  "I'll read to you instead, if you'd like me to, granny."</p>
+
+<p>When Millie Higgins had come out of church she had walked rapidly
+homewards by herself.  Patty and her father had gone on.  Mona was with
+her father and grandmother, and Millie felt that she could not face Mrs.
+Barnes just then.  She was fighting a big fight with herself, and she had
+not won yet.  But in the afternoon, when they came out of the school
+library, the two walked together.  They took Patty home, because she was
+too tired to do any more that day.  Then Mona and Millie hesitated,
+looking at each other.  "I must go home, too," said Mona.  "I thought I'd
+have been able to go for a walk, but it's too late.  Granny'll be
+expecting me."</p>
+
+<p>Millie looked at her without speaking, half turned to leave her,
+hesitated, and finally walked on at Mona's side.  She seemed nervous and
+embarrassed, but Mona did not notice it.  She did not realize anything of
+the struggle going on in Millie's mind.  She was too much occupied in
+glancing at the pictures in her book, and reading a sentence here and
+there.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm longing to begin it.  I think granny'll like it too."</p>
+
+<p>Millie did not answer, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
+When they reached the house Mona stood for a moment without opening the
+door.  She was somewhat troubled in her mind as to what to do.  She did
+not want to ask Millie in, yet she was afraid of hurting her feelings by
+not doing so.  Millie stood, and did not say good-bye.  Her cheeks were
+flushed, and she was evidently very nervous.</p>
+
+<p>"May I come in?" she asked at last.  "Yes, do come inside."  Mona was a
+little surprised at Millie's daring, and not too well pleased, but she
+tried to speak cordially.  Opening the door, she went in first.
+"Granny, here's Millie Higgins come to see you.  She's been to school with
+Patty and me, and we've walked back together!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes was sitting in her chair by the fire.  "Well, Millie," she
+said kindly.  "It's a long time since I've seen you.  Sit down."
+Whether she suspected the truth neither of the girls could make out.
+Millie grew even redder in the cheeks, and looked profoundly
+uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I've come to say&mdash;" she burst out in a jerky, nervous fashion,
+"I&mdash;I came here on Wednesday&mdash;when you were out, and I&mdash;behaved badly&mdash;"
+She hesitated, broke down, looked at the door as though she would have
+dashed out through it, had it only been open, then in one rush poured out
+the words that had been repeating and repeating themselves in her brain
+all that day.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very sorry I broke your beautiful set, Mrs. Barnes.  I'm&mdash;ever so
+sorry, I&mdash;don't know what to do about it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mona, guided by some sense of how she would have felt under the
+circumstances, had disappeared on the pretence of filling a kettle.
+She knew how much harder it is to make a confession if others are looking
+on and listening.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Mrs. Barnes, gravely, "was it you that broke my china?
+I didn't know."</p>
+
+<p>Millie stared with astonishment.  "Didn't&mdash;Mona tell you?" she gasped,
+quite taken aback.  She could scarcely believe her own ears.
+Granny Barnes shook her head.  "No, I didn't know but what she did it
+herself.  I believe little Patty did say that she didn't, but I was too
+upset to take in what was said.  My precious tea-set was broken, and it
+didn't seem to me to matter who did it."</p>
+
+<p>Millie was silent for a moment or so.  "Well, I did it," she said at last.
+"I threw a cushion at Mona, and it hit the china behind her!  I've felt
+dreadful about it ever since, and I&mdash;I didn't dare to come near you.
+I don't know what to do about it, Mrs. Barnes.  Can it be mended?" she
+added, colouring hotly again.  "I&mdash;I mean I've got some money in the bank.
+I'll gladly pay for it to be mended, if it can be."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Millie.  Perhaps one or two bits can&mdash;but nothing can ever
+make the set perfect again."  Mrs. Barnes' voice quavered, and tears came
+into her eyes.  "But I wouldn't let you pay for it.  We won't talk any
+more about it&mdash;I can't.  P'raps I set too much store by the things."
+She got up from her seat, and stood, leaning heavily on the table.
+"It's all right, Millie.  I'm very glad you came and told me you did it.
+Yes, I'm very glad of that.  Now we'll try and forget all about it."</p>
+
+<p>Millie burst into tears, and moved away towards the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay and have some tea with Mona and me," Granny urged, hospitably.
+"Don't run away, Millie."</p>
+
+<p>But Millie felt that she must go.  She wanted to be alone.  "I&mdash;I think
+I'd rather not&mdash;not now, thank you.  I'll come&mdash;another day, if you will
+ask me."  Then she hurried out, and up the hill, thankful that it was
+tea-time, and that nearly everyone was indoors.  She quickly turned off
+the main road into a little frequented narrow lane, and by way of that to
+the wide stretch of wild land which crowned the top of the hill.
+She wanted to be alone, and free, to fight out her battle alone.</p>
+
+<p>"If I'd known Mona hadn't told&mdash;"  The mean thought would try to take root
+in her mind, but she weeded it out and trampled on it.  In her heart she
+was profoundly impressed by Mona's conduct, and she was glad, devoutly
+glad, that she had not been less honourable and courageous.  She could
+face people now, and not feel a sneak or a coward.</p>
+
+<p>In all her life after Millie never forgot her walk on that sunny summer
+evening.  The charm and beauty, the singing of the birds, the scent of the
+furze and the heather, the peace of it, after the storms she had lived
+through lately, sank deep into her soul.</p>
+
+<p>Her wickedness of the past week had frightened her.  "I felt I didn't care
+what I did, I was so wild with Mona.  I wonder I didn't do more harm than
+I did.  And then Patty, poor little Patty.  I nearly drowned her!
+Oh-h-h!"  She buried her face and shuddered at the remembrance.
+"I knew she'd fall into the water if I pushed her, so it was as bad as
+being a murderer.  If she had died&mdash;and she nearly did&mdash;I should have been
+one, and I should have been in jail now, and&mdash;oh, I <i>will</i> try to be good,
+I <i>will</i> try to be better!"</p>
+
+<p>Long shadows were falling across the road as she went down the hill,
+on her homeward way.  The flowers in Lucy Carne's garden were giving out
+their evening scent.  Lucy, standing enjoying them, looked up as Millie
+came along, and nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't you like a flower to wear?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Millie paused.  "I'd love one," she said, looking in over the low stone
+wall.  "I never smell any so sweet as yours, Mrs. Carne."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy gathered her a spray of pink roses, and some white jessamine.
+"There," she said, "fasten those in your blouse.  Isn't the scent
+beautiful?  I don't think one could do anything bad, or think anything
+bad, with flowers like those under one's eyes and nose, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you?" questioned Millie, doubtfully.  "I don't believe anything
+would keep me good."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy looked at her in faint surprise.  It was not like Millie to speak
+with so much feeling.  "You don't expect me to believe that," she began,
+half laughing; then stopped, for there were still traces of tears about
+Millie's eyes, and a tremulousness about her lips, and Lucy knew that she
+was really in need of help.</p>
+
+<p>"I know that you've got more courage than most of us, Millie," she added
+gently.  "If you would only use it in the right way.  Perhaps my little
+flowers will remind you to."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope they will.  I wish they would," said Millie, fastening them in her
+coat.  "Goodbye."</p>
+
+<p>Before she reached her own home Millie saw her father out at the door
+looking for her.  As a rule, it made her angry to be watched for in this
+way, "Setting all the neighbours talking," as she put it.  But to-day her
+conscience really pricked her, and she was prepared to be amiable.
+Her father, though, was not prepared to be amiable.  He had got a
+headache, and he wanted his tea.  He had been wanting it for an hour and
+more.</p>
+
+<p>"Where have you been gallivanting all this time, I'd like to know.
+I'll be bound you've been a may-gaming somewhere as you didn't ought to on
+a Sunday, your dooty to me forgotten."</p>
+
+<p>To Millie this sounded unjust and cruel.  She had let her duties slip from
+her for a while, but she had been neither may-gaming nor wasting her time.
+Indeed, she had been in closer touch with better things and nobler aims
+than ever in her life before, and in her new mood her father's words
+jarred and hurt her.  An angry retort rose to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't been with anybody," she replied sharply.  "I've been for a walk
+by myself, that's all.  It's hard if I can't have a few minutes for myself
+sometimes."  But, in putting up her hand to remove her hat, she brushed
+her flowers roughly, and her angry words died away.  In return for a blow
+they gave out a breath of such sweetness that Millie could not but heed
+it.  "I&mdash;I was thinking, and I forgot about tea-time," she added in a
+gentler voice.  "But I won't be long getting it now, father."</p>
+
+<p>While the kettle was coming to the boil she laid the cloth and cut some
+bread and butter; then she went to the larder and brought out an apple
+pie.  With all her faults, Millie was a good cook, and looked after her
+father well.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her preparations approvingly, and his brow cleared.
+"You're a good maid, Millie," he said, as he helped the pie, while Millie
+poured out the tea.  "I'm sorry I spoke a bit rough just now.  I didn't
+really mean anything.  I was only a bit put out."</p>
+
+<p>Millie's heart glowed with pride and pleasure.  "That's all right,
+father," and then she added, almost shyly, "I&mdash;I'd no business to&mdash;to
+forget the time, and stay out so long."  It was the first time in her life
+she had admitted she was wrong when her father had been vexed with her and
+given her a scolding.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Lucy Carne knocked at Granny Barnes' door, and waited.  She had a little
+nosegay of flowers in her hand and a plate of fresh fish. Almost every day
+she brought granny something, even if it was only a simple flower, and
+granny loved her little 'surprises.'</p>
+
+<p>Lucy waited a moment, hearing a voice inside, then she knocked again, and
+louder.</p>
+
+<p>"I do believe Mona's reading to her again, and they've forgotten their
+tea!"</p>
+
+<p>Getting no answer even now, Lucy opened the door a little way and popped
+her head in.  "May I come in?  I don't know what world you two are living
+in to-day, but I knocked twice and I couldn't reach you."</p>
+
+<p>Mona carefully placed the marker in her book and closed it, but
+reluctantly.  Miss Lester, her Sunday School teacher, had given her the
+marker.  It was a strip of ribbon with fringed ends, and with her name
+painted on it, and a spray of white jessamine.  Every girl who had joined
+the library had had one.  Some were blue, some red, some white, and the
+rest orange colour.  Mona's was red.  She was glad, for she liked red, and
+the delicate white flower looked lovely on it, she thought.  Miss Lester
+had painted them herself, and the girls prized them beyond anything.</p>
+
+<p>Mona's eyes lingered on hers as she closed the book.  It was rather hard
+to have to leave her heroine just at that point, and set about getting
+tea.  She did wish Lucy had not come for another ten minutes.</p>
+
+<p>Granny looked up with a little rueful smile.  "I felt it was tea-time,"
+she said, "but I thought Mona would like to finish out the chapter, and
+then before we knew what we were doing we had begun another.  It's a
+pretty tale.  I wish you had been hearing it too, Lucy.  It's called
+'Queechy.'  A funny sort of a name, to my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"'Queechy'!&mdash;why, I read that years ago, and I've read it again since I've
+been married.  I borrowed it from mother when I was so ill that time.
+Mother had it given to her as a prize by her Bible-class teacher.
+She thinks the world of it.  So do I.  I love it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm longing to get to the end," said Mona, turning over the pages
+lingeringly.  "There's only three chapters more."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, that's enough for another reading or two," said Granny.
+"They are long chapters.  It would be a pity to hurry over them just for
+the sake of reaching the end.  We'll have a nice time to-morrow, dearie.
+I shall be sorry when it's all done."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona was impatient.  "To-morrow!  Nobody knows what may happen before
+to-morrow.  Something is sure to come along and prevent anybody's doing
+what they want to do," she said crossly.</p>
+
+<p>Granny looked at her with grieved eyes.  "I think you generally manage to
+do what you want to, Mona," she said, gravely.  "I don't think you can
+have profited much by what you've read," she added, and turned to Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>Mona laid down her book with a sigh.  "It's much easier to read about
+being good than to be good oneself," she thought.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy came in from the scullery with a vase full of water.  "I'll have a
+few nice flowers for you to take to Miss Lester on Sunday, Mona, if you'll
+come and fetch them."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Mona, but she looked and spoke glumly.  She was still
+vexed with Lucy for coming in and interrupting them.  She did not know
+that Lucy came in at meal-times just to make sure that granny had her
+meals, for Mona thought nothing of being an hour late with them if she was
+occupied in some other way.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't trouble about it, if you don't care to have them," Lucy added
+quietly.  And Mona felt reproved.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to," she said, looking ashamed of herself.  "Miss Lester loves
+having flowers.  I'll run up on Saturday evening for them, mother.
+They'll be better for being in water all night."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right.  Now, I'll cook the fish while you lay the cloth. Granny'll
+be fainting if we don't give her something to eat and drink soon.  I
+should have been down before, but I had to see father off."</p>
+
+<p>"Will he be out all night?" Granny asked, anxiously.  She never got over
+her dread of the sea at night.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes.  If they get much of a catch they'll take it in to Baymouth to land.
+The 'buyers' will be there to-morrow.  I'm hoping Peter'll be back in the
+afternoon.  These are fine whiting.  You like whiting, don't you, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, very much.  It's kind of you to bring them.  I feel now how badly I
+was wanting my tea.  You'll have some with us?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I will.  I was so busy getting Peter off that I didn't have
+anything myself."</p>
+
+<p>Mona laid the cloth with extra care.  Lucy's vase of stocks stood at one
+corner.  Though it was August, the wind was cold, and the little bit of
+fire in the grate made the kitchen very pleasant and cosy.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got a bit of news for you, Mona," said Lucy, coming back from
+putting away the frying-pan.  "Mrs. Luxmore told me that Miss Lester is
+engaged.  Had you heard it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no!  What, my Miss Lester?  Miss Grace?"  Mona was intensely
+interested.  "Oh, I am so glad.  Who is she engaged to, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Dr. Edwards!  Isn't it nice!  Doesn't it seem just right?" Lucy was
+almost as excited as Mona.  "I am so glad she isn't going to marry a
+stranger, and leave Seacombe."</p>
+
+<p>"Can it be true! really true?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's true enough.  Mrs. Luxmore told me.  Her husband works two days a
+week at Mrs. Lester's, and Mrs. Lester told him her very own self. So it
+must be true, mustn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona's thoughts had already flown to the wedding.  "We girls in Miss
+Grace's class ought to give her a wedding present.  What would be a nice
+thing to give her?  And, oh, mother!"  Mona clapped her hands in a fresh
+burst of excitement.  "I wonder if she will let us all go to the wedding
+and strew roses in her path as she comes out of the church&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It'll depend a good deal on what time of the year the wedding is to be,"
+remarked granny, drily.  But Mona's mind was already picturing the scene.</p>
+
+<p>"We ought all to be dressed in white, with white shoes and stockings, and
+gloves, and some should wear pink round their waists and in their hats,
+and the rest should have blue, and those that wear pink should throw white
+roses, and those that wear blue should throw pink roses. Wouldn't it look
+sweet?  I'd rather wear blue, because I've got a blue sash."</p>
+
+<p>A door banged upstairs, and made them all jump.  "Why, how the wind is
+rising!" said Lucy, in a frightened voice.  She hurried to the window and
+looked out anxiously.  "Oh, dear! and I was hoping it was going to be
+pretty still to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"What I'd give if Peter was a ploughman, or a carpenter!" cried granny,
+almost irritably.  "I don't know how you can bear it, Lucy, always to have
+the fear of the sea dogging you day and night!" Her own face had grown
+quite white.</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't bear it," said Lucy quietly, "if I didn't feel that wherever
+he is God's hand is over him just the same."  She came back and stood by
+the fire, gazing with wistful eyes into its glowing heart.</p>
+
+<p>"But sailors and fishermen do get drowned," urged Mona, putting her fears
+into words in the hope of getting comfort.</p>
+
+<p>"And ploughmen and carpenters meet with their deaths, too.  We've got our
+work to do, and we can't all choose the safest jobs.  Some must take the
+risks.  And no matter what our work is, death'll come to us all one day.
+Some of us who sit at home, die a hundred deaths thinking of those
+belonging to us and the risks they are facing."</p>
+
+<p>Then, seeing that granny was really nervous, Lucy led the talk to other
+things, though, in that little place, with nothing to break the force of
+the wind, or deaden the noise of the waves, it was not easy to get one's
+mind away from either.  "I don't suppose it is very bad, really," said
+Lucy, comfortingly.  "It always sounds a lot here, but the men laugh at me
+when I talk of 'the gale' blowing.  'You must wait till you hear the real
+thing,' they say.  But I tell them I have heard the real thing, and it
+began quietly enough.  Now, Mona, you and I will put away the tea things,
+shall we?"</p>
+
+<p>"You won't go home before you really need to, will you?" asked granny.
+"It'll be a long and wearying time you'll have alone there, waiting for
+morning.  Oh, I wish it was morning now," she added, almost passionately,
+"and the night over, and the storm.  I do long for rest."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy looked at her anxiously, surprised by the feeling in her voice. "Why,
+mother! you mustn't worry yourself like that.  It's nothing of a wind yet,
+and it may die down again quite soon.  I think it was a mistake letting
+you come to live on this side of the road, where you feel the wind so much
+more.  If I were you I'd move up nearer to us the first time there's a
+place to let.  You feel just as I do about the storms, and it's only those
+that do who understand how hard it is to bear."</p>
+
+<p>Granny nodded, but she did not answer.  She turned to Mona. "Wouldn't you
+like to go for a run before bedtime?" she asked. "The air'll do you good,
+and help you to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't want her to get nervous just before bedtime," she confided to
+Lucy when Mona had gone.  "I try not to let her see how nervous I get&mdash;but
+sometimes one can't help but show it."</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not need any urging.  Her thoughts were full of Miss Lester's
+coming marriage and her own plans for it, and ever since she had heard the
+news she had been longing to go out and spread it and talk it over.</p>
+
+<p>"Patty ought to wear blue, to match her eyes; Millie will be sure to
+choose pink, she has had such a fancy for pink ever since she had that
+print frock."</p>
+
+<p>But when she reached the Quay she met with disappointment.  There was
+hardly anyone there but some boys playing 'Prisoners.'  Certainly it was
+not very tempting there that evening, the wind was cold and blustery, and
+both sea and sky were grey and depressing.  Mona was glad to come away
+into the shelter of the street.</p>
+
+<p>She looked about her for someone to talk to, but, seeing no one, she made
+her way home again.  It was very aggravating having to keep her great
+ideas bottled up till morning, but it could not be helped. When she
+reached home again, Lucy was still there, but she had her hat on ready to
+start.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you hadn't to go," said Granny Barnes, wistfully.  "I wish you
+could stay here the night."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy looked at her anxiously.  "Are you feeling very nervous, mother?
+Would you rather I stayed?  I will if you wish."</p>
+
+<p>"No,&mdash;oh, no," granny protested, though she would have liked it above all
+things.  "I wasn't thinking about myself; I was thinking about you, up
+there all alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I shall be all right.  I am getting used to it.  Now you go to bed
+early, and try to go to sleep, then you won't notice the weather. You are
+looking dreadfully tired.  Good night&mdash;good night, Mona."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll do as Lucy said," said granny a little while later. "I'm
+feeling tireder than ever in my life before.  If I was in bed now this
+minute, I believe I could sleep.  If I once got off I feel as if I could
+sleep for ever."  And by half-past eight the house was shut up, and they
+had gone to bed.</p>
+
+<p>Granny, at least, had gone to bed, and had fallen almost at once into a
+heavy slumber.  Mona was more wakeful.  The news of her teacher's
+engagement had excited her, and not having been able to talk it out, her
+brain was seething with ideas.</p>
+
+<p>She put out her candle, drew back her curtains, and looked out into the
+gathering darkness.  An air of gloom and loneliness reigned over
+everything.  Far out she could see white caps on the waves, but not a
+boat, or vessel of any kind.  The sky looked full and lowering.</p>
+
+<p>With a little shiver Mona drew her curtains again and relighted her
+candle.  As it flickered and burnt up, her eyes fell on the book so
+reluctantly put aside until to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wish I could have just a little read," she thought, longingly.
+"Just a look to see what happens next."</p>
+
+<p>She took up the book and opened it, glancing over the chapters she had
+read&mdash;then she turned to the one she and granny were going to read
+to-morrow.  Her eyes travelled greedily over a few paragraphs, then she
+turned the page.  Presently she grew tired of standing, and sat on the
+side of the bed, lost to everything but the pages she was devouring
+hungrily.  The wind blew her curtains about, the rain drove against the
+panes, but Mona did not heed either.  She had drawn herself up on the bed
+by that time and, leaning up against her pillows, was reading comfortably
+by the light of the candle close beside her.  She was miles away from her
+real surroundings, and driving with Fleda in England, and no other world
+existed for her.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyelids growing heavy, she closed them for a moment.  She didn't know
+that she had closed them, and imagined she was still reading. She was very
+surprised, though, presently, to find that what she thought she had been
+reading was not on the open pages before her. She rubbed her tiresomely
+heavy lids and looked again; then she raised herself on her elbow and
+began again at the top of the mysterious page, and all went well for a
+paragraph or two.  Fleda was walking now alone, through a grassy glade.
+Oh, how lovely it was&mdash;but what a long walk to be taking in such a high
+wind.  Mona forced open one eye, and let the other rest a moment.  "The
+trees sometimes swept back, leaving an opening, and at other places,"
+stretched&mdash;stretched, yes it was, "stretched their branches over,"&mdash;over
+&mdash;but how the wind roared in the trees, and what a pity that someone
+should have had a bonfire just there, the smell was suffocating&mdash;and the
+heat!  How could she bear it!  And, oh, dear!  How dazzling the sun was&mdash;
+or the bonfire; the whole wood would be on fire if they did not take care!
+Oh, the suffocating smoke!</p>
+
+<p>Mona&mdash;or was she Fleda?&mdash;gasped and panted.  If relief did&mdash;not&mdash;come
+soon&mdash;she could not draw&mdash;another breath.  She felt she was paralysed&mdash;
+helpless&mdash;dying&mdash;and the wind&mdash;so much&mdash;air&mdash;somewhere&mdash;she was trying
+to say, when suddenly, from very, very far away she heard her own name
+being called.  It sounded like 'Mona'&mdash;not Fleda&mdash;and&mdash;yet, somehow she
+knew that it was she who was meant.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;what&mdash;do they&mdash;want!" she  thought wearily.  "I can't go. I'm&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mona! Mona!"  She heard it again; her own name, and called frantically,
+and someone was shaking her, and saying something about a fire, and then
+she seemed to be dragged up bodily and carried away. "Oh, what rest! and
+how nice to be out of that awful heat&mdash;she would have&mdash;died&mdash;if&mdash;if&mdash;"
+Then she felt the cold air blowing on her face, the dreadful dragging pain
+in her chest was gone, she could breathe! She opened her eyes and looked
+about her&mdash;and for the first time was sure that she was dreaming.</p>
+
+<p>The other was real enough, but this could only be a dream, for she was
+lying on the pavement in the street, in the middle of the night, with
+people standing all about staring down at her.  They were people she knew,
+she thought, yet they all looked so funny.  Someone was kneeling beside
+her, but in a strange red glow which seemed to light up the darkness, she
+could not recognise the face.  Her eyelids fell, in spite of herself, but
+she managed to open them again very soon, and this time she saw the black
+sky high above her; rain fell on her face.  The red glow went up and down;
+sometimes it was brilliant, sometimes it almost disappeared, and all the
+time there was a strange crackling, hissing noise going on, and a horrible
+smell.</p>
+
+<p>By degrees she felt a little less dazed and helpless.  She tried to put
+out her hands to raise herself, but she could not move them. They were
+fastened to her sides.  She saw then that she was wrapped in a blanket.
+
+"What&mdash;ever&mdash;has happened!" she asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"There has been an accident&mdash;a fire.  Your house is on fire&mdash;didn't you
+know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fire!&mdash;our house&mdash;on fire!"  Mona sat upright, and looked about her in a
+bewildered way.  Could it be that she was having those dreadful things
+said to her.  She had often wondered how people felt, what they thought&mdash;
+what they did, when they had suddenly to face so dreadful a thing.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's granny?" she asked abruptly&mdash;almost violently.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence.  Then Patty Row's mother said in a
+breathless, hesitating way, "Nobody&mdash;no one knows yet, Mona. Nor how the
+house was set on fire," she added, hastily, as though anxious to give Mona
+something else to think of.  "Some say the wind must have blown down the
+kitchen chimney and scattered some red-hot coals about the floor."</p>
+
+<p>"But 'twas the top part of the house that was burning first along," broke
+in old Tom Harris.  "Mrs. Carne saw smoke and fire coming through the
+bedroom windows and the roof."
+
+"The top part!&mdash;where granny was sleeping!"  Mona threw open the blanket
+and struggled to her feet.  "Oh, do stop talking, and tell me&mdash;hasn't
+anyone found granny?"  Her question ended almost in a scream.</p>
+
+<p>"They&mdash;they're getting her&mdash;&mdash;" said somebody.  The rest preserved an
+ominous silence.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a chain of men handing up buckets of water through the back
+garden," said someone else, as though trying to distract her thoughts.
+"They'll soon get the fiercest of the fire down."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but think of granny.  We can't wait for that.  She's in the fire all
+this time.  She was in bed.  Hasn't anyone been to her? Oh, they must
+have.  They can't have left her&mdash;an old woman&mdash;to save herself!"</p>
+
+<p>Mona was beside herself with the horror of the thing.</p>
+
+<p>"They tried," said Mrs. Row, gently, "but they were beaten back.
+Mrs. Carne tried until she was&mdash;There!  She's gone&mdash;Mona's gone!"
+Her explanation ended in a scream.  "Oh, stop her&mdash;somebody, do, she'll be
+killed."</p>
+
+<p>"It'd have been sensibler to have told her the truth at once," said Tom
+Harris, impatiently.  "She's got to know, poor maid.  Now we shall have
+another life thrown away, more than likely, and Mrs. Carne with a broken
+leg, and nobody knows what other damage."</p>
+
+<p>Slipping through the crowd in the darkness, Mona, in a perfect frenzy of
+fear, dashed into the house.  All she was conscious of was hot anger
+against all those who stood about talking and looking on and doing
+nothing, while granny lay helpless in her bed suffocating, perhaps
+burning; were they mad!&mdash;did they want granny to die?&mdash;didn't they care,
+that no one made any attempt to save her.  Through the semi-darkness, the
+haze of smoke and steam, she heard people, and voices, but she could not
+see anyone.  The heat was fearful, and the smell of burning made her feel
+sick.</p>
+
+<p>She groped her way stumblingly through the kitchen.  The furniture seemed
+to her to be scattered about as though on purpose to hinder her, but she
+kept along by the dressers as well as she could. They would be a guide,
+she thought.  "Poor tea-set!  There will be little of it left now."
+Her fingers touched something soft. Lucy's stocks, still in the vase.
+At last she found herself at the foot of the staircase.  The door was
+closed.  Someone had wisely shut it to check the rush of air up it.
+After a struggle, Mona managed to open it again, and fell back before the
+overpowering heat and the smoke which choked and blinded her.  She clapped
+her hand over her nose and mouth, and crouching down, dragged herself a
+little way up, lying almost flat on her face, she was so desperate now
+with the horror of it all, beside herself.  Ahead of her was what looked
+like a blazing furnace.  All around her was an awful roaring, the noise of
+burning, broken into every now and again by a crash, after which the red
+light blazed out brighter, and the roaring redoubled.</p>
+
+<p>How could anyone live in such a furnace.  An awful cry of despair broke
+from her parched throat.  "Granny!" she screamed.  "Oh, granny! Where are
+you?  I can't reach&mdash;"  Another crash, and a blazing beam fell across the
+head of the burning staircase.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny! Oh, God save my&mdash;&mdash;"  But before she could finish she was seized
+by strong arms and lifted up, and then darkness fell on her brain, and she
+knew no more.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0013"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When poor Lucy Carne next opened her eyes and came back with a sigh to the
+horrors and suffering of which she had for a time been mercifully
+unconscious, her first thought was for her husband.</p>
+
+<p>"Has the boat come in?  Did the storm die down?&mdash;or did it get worse?
+Has anyone heard or seen anything of my husband?"  She panted feebly.
+But before they could answer her, she had floated off again into a
+troubled delirium.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the wind!  Oh, the awful wind!" she kept on repeating.  "Oh, can't
+anything stop it!  It's fanning the flames to fury; it's blowing them
+towards granny's room.  Oh, the noise&mdash;I must find her&mdash;I must save her&mdash;
+she's so feeble.  Oh, granny! Granny!"  Her voice would end in a scream,
+followed by a burst of tears; then she would begin again.</p>
+
+<p>Once or twice she had recovered consciousness, and then had asked for her
+husband or Mona.  "Is she badly hurt?&mdash;will she get over it?"</p>
+
+<p>The nurse soothed and comforted her, and did all she could.  "She isn't
+conscious yet, but they think she will be soon.  She's got slight
+concussion, and she has cut herself a bit&mdash;but she will do all right if
+she gets over the shock.  They are keeping her very quiet; it is the only
+way.  You must try not to scream and call out, dear.  For if she began to
+come round and heard you, it might be very, very serious for her."</p>
+
+<p>After that Lucy lay trying hard to keep fast hold of her senses.
+"Don't let me scream!" she pleaded.  "Put something over my head if I
+begin.  I can keep myself quiet as long as I have my senses&mdash;but when they
+drift away&mdash;I&mdash;don't know what I do.  I didn't know I made a noise.
+Oh&mdash;h&mdash;h!" as some slight movement racked her with pain.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor dear," said Nurse.  "I expect you're feeling your bruises now, and
+your leg."</p>
+
+<p>"I seem to be one big lump of pain," sighed poor Lucy.  "But I don't mind
+if only Mona pulls through, and Peter is safe.  Oh, my poor husband&mdash;what
+a home-coming!"</p>
+
+<p>"Now try not to dwell on it.  You'll only get yourself worse, and for his
+sake, poor man, you ought to try and get well as fast as you can.
+There, look at those flowers Patty Row has brought you.  Aren't they
+sweet!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my!" Lucy drew in deep breaths of their fragrance.  "Stocks, and
+sweet-brier&mdash;oh, how lovely!  They'll help to take away the&mdash;smell of the
+burning."  Then her mind seemed to float away again, but not this time
+through a raging furnace, but through sweet-scented gardens, and sunlight,
+and soft pure air.</p>
+
+<p>When she came back to the hospital ward again, Nurse smiled at her with
+eyes full of pleasure.  "I've good news for you," she said, bending low,
+so that her words might quite reach the poor dazed brain.  "Your husband
+is safe!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank God!  Thank God!"  Her eyes swam in tears of joy.  "Does&mdash;he
+know?" she asked a moment later, her face full of anxiety.  The thought of
+his sad home-coming was anguish to her.</p>
+
+<p>Nurse nodded.  "Yes, dear, he knows.  The Vicar went to Baymouth by the
+first train and brought him back.  He did not want him to have the news
+blurted out to him without any preparation."</p>
+
+<p>"How very kind!  How is he?  Peter, I mean.  Is he feeling it very badly?
+Oh, I wish I could be there to help him, to comfort him.  He'll be so
+lonely&mdash;and there will be so much to do."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, he won't want for help.  Everyone is ready and anxious to do
+what they can.  Of course, he is upset.  He wouldn't be the man he is if
+he wasn't.  It is all a terrible shock to him!  But it might have been so
+much worse.  He is so thankful that you and Mona are safe.  He doesn't
+give a single thought to himself."</p>
+
+<p>"He never does," said Lucy, half-smiling, half-weeping.  "That's why he
+needs me to take thought of him.  When may I see him, Nurse?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's what he is asking.  If you keep very quiet now, and have a nice
+sleep, perhaps you'll be strong enough for just a peep at him when you
+wake up."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll lie still, and be very quiet, but I can't promise to sleep."
+She did sleep, though, in spite of herself, for when next she turned her
+head to see if the hands of the clock had moved at all, she found her
+husband sitting beside her, smiling at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, however did you get here, dear?  I never saw you come&mdash;nor heard a
+sound."</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon I must have growed up out of the floor," said Peter, bending to
+kiss her.  "Well, my girl, this isn't where I expected to see 'ee when I
+came back&mdash;but I'm so thankful to find you at all, I can't think of
+anything else."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you've come," she cried, clinging to him
+passionately.  "I never thought we should meet again in this world.
+Oh! Peter&mdash;what we've been through!  Oh! That night!  That awful night!"</p>
+
+<p>He patted her soothingly, holding her hand in his.  "I know, I know&mdash;but
+you must try not to dwell on it.  If you throw yourself back, I shan't be
+allowed to come again."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy put a great restraint upon herself.  "They've told you:&mdash;poor granny
+is dead?" she whispered, but more calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;they've told me.  I believe I know the worst now.  I've one bit of
+comfort, though, for all of us.  I've just seen the doctor, and he says
+she was dead before the fire reached her.  She must have died almost as
+soon as she lay down."</p>
+
+<p>Then Lucy broke down and wept from sheer relief.  "Oh, thank God," she
+said, fervently, "for taking her to Himself, and sparing her the horrors
+of that awful night.  Thank Him, too, for Mona's sake.  The thought that
+granny perished in the fire because no one reached her in time would have
+been the worst of all the thoughts weighing on her mind.  She will be
+spared that now."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment, though, Mona was troubled by no thoughts at all.  She lay
+in her bed in the ward just as they had placed her there hours before,
+absolutely unconscious.  If it had not been for the faint beating of her
+heart she might have been taken for dead.  Doctors came and looked at her
+and went away again, the day nurses went off duty, and the night nurses
+came on and went off again, but still she showed no sign of life.
+With her head and her arms swathed in bandages, she lay with her eyes
+closed, her lips slightly parted.  It was not until the following day, the
+day Granny Barnes was laid to rest in the little churchyard on the hill,
+that she opened her eyes on this world once more, and glanced about her,
+dazed and bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"Where?" she began.  But before she had finished her sentence, her eyes
+closed.</p>
+
+<p>This time, though, it was not unconsciousness, but sleep that she drifted
+off into, and it was not until afternoon that she opened her eyes once
+more.</p>
+
+<p>"Where am I?"  She completed her question this time.  Then, at the sight
+of a nurse in uniform, a look of alarm crept into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you, dear?  Why, here in hospital, being taken care of, and
+your mother is here, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and we are looking after you so well!  You are both better already."</p>
+
+<p>The cheerful voice and smile, the kindly face, drove all Mona's fears away
+at once, and for ever.  But, as memory returned, other fears took their
+place.</p>
+
+<p>"Is&mdash;mother&mdash;hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but, oh, not nearly as badly as she might have been.  She will be
+well again soon.  You shall go into the ward with her when you are a
+little better.  You must keep very quiet now, and not talk."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;granny&mdash;and father?" faltered Mona.  "I <i>must</i> know&mdash;I can't rest&mdash;
+till&mdash;I do."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the Nurse hesitated.  It was very difficult to know what to
+do for the best.  "She will only fret and worry if I don't tell her,
+and imagine things worse than they are," she thought to herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Your father is home, and safe and well.  You shall see him soon.
+Your poor granny is safe, too, dear, and well.  So well, she will never
+suffer any more."</p>
+
+<p>"They&mdash;let her&mdash;die&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No one let her die, dear.  She had died in her sleep before the fire
+broke out.  She was mercifully spared that&mdash;and isn't that something to be
+thankful for, Mona?  There, there, don't cry, dear.  You mustn't cry, or
+you will be ill again, and, for your father's and mother's sake, you must
+try and get well.  Your father wants you home to take care of him until
+your mother can come.  Think of him, dear, and how badly he needs you, and
+try your best to get better.  He is longing to come to see you."</p>
+
+<p>Mercifully for Mona, she was too weak to weep much, or even to think,
+and before very long she had sunk into an exhausted sleep.
+Mercifully, too, perhaps, in the horror of her awakening, that terrible
+night, and the distracting hours that followed, it never entered her head
+that it was she who had brought about the disaster.  It was not till later
+that that dreadful truth came home to her, to be repented of through years
+of bitter regret.</p>
+
+<p>The next day her father came to see her, and a few days after that she was
+carried into the adjoining ward and put into the bed next to her mother.</p>
+
+<p>That was a great step forward.  For the first time a ray of sunshine
+penetrated the heavy cloud of sorrow which had overshadowed them all.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep them both as cheerful as possible," the doctor had said, "and don't
+let them dwell on the tragedy if you can help it."  So every day a visitor
+came to see them&mdash;Miss Grace Lester, Mrs. Row, and Patty, Millie Higgins,
+and Philippa&mdash;and as they all brought flowers and fruit, the little ward
+became a perfect garden, gay with bright colours and sweet scents.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grace brought a book for Mona, and a soft, warm shawl for Lucy.
+They were delighted.  "And please, Miss," said Lucy, "may I give you my
+best wishes for your happiness?  We heard you were going to be married
+before so very long."</p>
+
+<p>Grace Lester blushed prettily.  "Yes, but not till next spring," she said.
+"Thank you for your good wishes, Mrs. Carne.  It was very sweet of you to
+remember me through all the troubles you have been through lately.
+I am so glad my new home will be in Seacombe, where I know and love
+everyone.  I should have been very grieved if I had had to leave it.
+Mona, what are you thinking about, to make you look so excited?  You know
+the doctor ordered you to keep calm!  I don't know what he would say if he
+saw you now.  He would blame me for exciting you, and I should never be
+allowed to come again."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Miss Grace, I am calm&mdash;I really am.  I won't be excited, I won't be
+ill, but, oh, I must tell you&mdash;I thought of something as soon as ever I
+heard there was to be a wedding&mdash;and oh, I wish you would&mdash;I am sure it
+would be lovely.  We want&mdash;all your Sunday School girls, I mean, Miss
+Grace&mdash;to be allowed to come and strew flowers in your path as you come
+out of church, and we'd all be dressed in white, and&mdash;and some would have
+pink, and some blue in their hats, and&mdash;Oh, Miss Grace, do please think
+about it and try and say 'Yes!'"</p>
+
+<p>Grace Lester's eyes were misty with happy tears by the time Mona had done.
+"Why, you nice, kind children," she cried, "to have such plans for making
+my wedding day beautiful and happy! I had not thought of anything so
+charming."</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments she sat silent, thinking deeply, and Mona lay back on
+her pillow watching her face.  "Would she consent&mdash;Oh, would she?
+It would almost be too lovely, though," she concluded.  "It could not
+really come true."</p>
+
+<p>"Mona," said Miss Grace at last.  "Do you know what I thought you might be
+going to ask?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona shook her head, her eyes were full of questioning.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought, perhaps, you were going to ask if you might come and be my
+little housemaid in my new home!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;h&mdash;h!"  Mona and her mother both exclaimed aloud and in the same tone
+of delight.  "Oh, Miss Grace!"  Mona sprang up in her bed and clapped her
+hands, bandages and all.  "Oh, Miss Grace! do you really mean it?
+That would be better than anything, because that would be for always.
+Oh, mother," turning to Lucy, her face radiant, "wouldn't that be lovely!"</p>
+
+<p>"Lovely," said Lucy, her eyes full of deep pleasure.  "I wouldn't ask for
+anything better for you, Mona.  I think&mdash;I know, it'll be the best that
+can possibly happen."</p>
+
+<p>"How very nice of you, Mrs. Carne."  Grace Lester pressed Lucy's hand.
+"You make me feel&mdash;very, very proud&mdash;but&mdash;well, I will try to do my best
+for her.  Good-bye.  I must not stay any longer now, or Nurse will be
+coming to scold me, but," with a smile, "I must just stay long enough to
+say I engage Mona now to come to me in April.  We will talk about wages
+and uniform, and all those things later on, when you are both stronger,
+and I have had time to think.  Now, good-bye&mdash;and Mona, don't keep your
+mother awake, or I shall be in everyone's bad books."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm as excited as she is, I think," said Lucy, smiling up at Mona's
+future mistress, "and it will be a real pleasure to me to teach her and
+get her as ready as I can&mdash;and I can't tell you, Miss, how pleased her
+father'll be that she is going where she will be so happy and well looked
+after."</p>
+
+<p>Grace Lester clasped Lucy's hand again.  "It will be a great pleasure to
+me to have her," she said warmly, "and, trained by you, I know she will be
+a comfort to any mistress."</p>
+
+<p>With this new interest to lift her thoughts from her troubles, Mona
+regained health so rapidly that she was able to leave the hospital sooner
+than anyone had dared to hope.  Poor Lucy, who had to stay there some
+weeks longer, watched her departure with tearful eyes.  "I shall feel
+lonely without you, dear," she said, "but for your own sake, and father's,
+I am glad you are going home.  You will look after him, won't you, and see
+to his comforts&mdash;and I'll be back in about three weeks, they say, though
+I'll have to go about on crutches for a bit."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I'll look after father.  Don't you worry, mother, I'll see to
+things," Mona reassured her.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect you will find the house in a pretty mess, and the garden too.
+When I ran out that night, I little thought I wouldn't be back for nigh on
+two months.  It's a lesson to one to be always prepared."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you worry, mother, we'll soon get it all straight again.  I am sure
+your place was tidier than any other in Seacombe would be, left in a hurry
+like that, and in the middle of the night."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Mona, you mustn't do too much."  Lucy's anxieties took a new
+direction.  She knew how Mona could, and would work, when she was in the
+mood to.  "Don't be doing too much and making yourself ill.  That would
+trouble me ever so much more than having the house untidy.  You leave it
+all till I come home.  When I am able to move about again I'll soon get
+things nice."</p>
+
+<p>Mona nodded, with a laugh in her eyes.  "Why, of course, everything will
+be scrubbed inside and out, top and bottom, when you get home to do it,
+mother."  But in her mind she added, "if you can find anything needing
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Then she kissed her 'good-bye,' promising to come again soon.  "And I'll
+take her a few flowers out of her own garden," she thought.  "She will
+love that better than anything.  But I expect the garden has run wild by
+this time."</p>
+
+<p>She did not say as much to her mother, for she had learnt how much such
+thoughts worried her; but she did to her father when he came to fetch her.
+He only smiled though.  "You wait till you see it, my girl," he said
+mysteriously, "then you'll know how things have gone since you have been
+away."</p>
+
+<p>"There!" triumphantly, when they presently drew up at the gate.
+"Do you say now that a poor lone man can't keep his place tidy while his
+women-folk are away!" and Mona stared, wide-eyed with surprise, for,
+instead of bushes all beaten down and tangled, weedy paths, and stripped
+flower beds, as she had pictured, the whole garden seemed full.
+Geraniums, phlox, mignonette, roses, snapdragons, and pansies made the
+beds gay, while at the back of them great bushes of Michaelmas daisies and
+chrysanthemums stood erect, neatly tied up to stakes.</p>
+
+<p>"But how?&mdash;who&mdash;whenever did you find time, father?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've never put a hand to it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it must have been the fairies," she laughed.  "Flowers may grow by
+themselves, but paths can't pull up their own weeds&mdash;I wish they could&mdash;
+nor bushes tie themselves up to stakes."</p>
+
+<p>Her father laughed too.  "Well, never having seen a fairy, I can't
+contradict.  But I'm bound to say that Matthew Luxmore was never my idea
+of one."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Luxmore?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he's come two and three times a week, all the time your mother's
+been in hospital, and tended the garden the same as if it had been his
+own.  Don't you call that acting the real Christian?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do.  Oh, father, I wish mother could see it.  Wouldn't it make her
+happy."  Mona was touched almost to tears.  "And doesn't it make you want
+to do something nice for people in return!  But everybody has been so kind
+I don't know where to begin."</p>
+
+<p>"The only way to begin," said Peter Carne, as he led Mona slowly up the
+path, "is to take the first oppertoonity that comes along of doing a
+kindness to one of them, and to keep on taking all the oppertoonities you
+can.  I know that the folks that have been good to us would be cut to the
+heart if we were to talk about returns.  You can't return such things as
+they've done for us.  You can only let them know how grateful you are.
+And if a chance comes of doing anything for them&mdash;why, do it.  Now, you
+come along in, my girl, and sit down.  You've done enough for one while.
+You've got to sit there and rest while I make you a cup of tea.
+That's right, the fire's just proper for making a nice bit of toast."</p>
+
+<p>Mona sank down in the arm-chair, and stared about her in speechless
+surprise.  "Why, it's like a palace!  I came home meaning to clean it from
+top to bottom, and there's nothing for me to do.  Has Mr. Luxmore been
+acting the fairy here too, father!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, the fairies in this department were a smaller sort, and more like my
+idea of fairies.  It's Millie Higgins and Patty that have set this all to
+rights for you.  They came and begged of me to let them, till I couldn't
+refuse any longer.  Patty's mother has cooked for me and looked after me
+all the time.  There never was such folk as Seacombe folk I'm certain
+sure.  There, there's a nice bit of toast for you, child, and the kettle
+just going to boil right out over our shining fender.  We'll have a cup of
+tea in a brace of shakes now.  Then you will feel like a new woman."</p>
+
+<p>"I do that already," said Mona.  "I mean," she added softly, "I am going to
+try to be, father."</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0014"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3>
+
+
+<p>More than six months have passed away, and spring has come.
+Lucy Carne, strong and well again, is able to walk without even a trace of
+a limp.  Mona has grown an inch or two, has put up her hair, and
+lengthened her skirts.</p>
+
+<p>"You see I must learn to do it nicely by the time Miss Grace wants me,"
+she explained, when, on Christmas day, she appeared for the first time
+with it coiled about her head.  And, for a few weeks after, knew no peace
+of mind.  "I shall never keep it up," she sighed, "unless I take a hammer
+and nails and fix it to my head that way."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy complained that she spent a fortune in hairpins, and her father said
+he could always trace where Mona had been by the hairpins strewing the
+place.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and she had been busy since the New Year came in making her uniform,
+blue print frocks, and large white linen aprons for the mornings, and a
+brown cloth dress and muslin aprons for the afternoons.  She was to have
+muslin caps too, and white collars and cuffs.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think black is really more serviceable than any other colour,"
+Miss Lester had said when she came to talk to Lucy about Mona, "and I
+think I would like to have something new.  So I want my servants to wear
+a pretty warm brown."</p>
+
+<p>Mona was enraptured.  The idea of wearing a uniform was delightful enough,
+but to have one unlike what other servants wore was doubly attractive.
+And when, on top of that, Miss Grace had said she had been thinking a
+great deal about Mona's pretty suggestion for her wedding day, and would
+be very happy indeed if her Bible-class girls would carry it out, Mona
+thought that life was almost too full of happiness.  "I'm afraid I shall
+wake up and find it's all a dream," she said pathetically.  "Mother, I'm
+not dreaming, am I?"</p>
+
+<p>"And I would like to give you all the muslin to make your dresses of,"
+added Miss Grace.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy looked at her gratefully.  "It's too good of you, Miss, and you with
+so much else to think about, and such a lot to get.  I don't know how to
+thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then don't try," said Miss Grace.  "I understand.  I shall leave it to
+you," turning smilingly to Mona, "to provide the flowers you are going to
+throw."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we are all doing our best to get plenty of those," said Lucy.
+"There's a proper rivalry all through Seacombe, trying which of us can get
+the best.  There won't be any out-door roses, but we've all got bushes in
+our windows."</p>
+
+<p>Seacombe folk that spring tried to outdo each other in their cleaning,
+too.  As soon as the March winds died down, and the days grew light and
+fine such a fury of whitewashing and painting, scrubbing and polishing set
+in, as had never been known in Seacombe before.  By the middle of April
+there was not a whitewashing brush left, nor a yard of net for curtains.</p>
+
+<p>"It dazzles one to walk up the street when the sun shines," Dr. Edwards
+complained.  "What's the meaning of it all.  Is it any special year&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's your year, sir," laughed Lucy.  "That's the meaning of it!  It's all
+for your wedding day.  You see, sir, you have been so good to us all, we
+want to do what we can to show you and Miss Grace what we feel towards you
+both."</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Edwards was touched.  Seacombe folk did not talk much of their
+feelings, and he had never dreamed how much they felt.  "It is very, very
+kind of you all," he said, "and the knowledge will make us more happy than
+all our wedding presents put together."</p>
+
+<p>"And we are all praying, sir, that the day may be as perfect a one as ever
+anybody knew," chimed in Mrs. Row, who was standing close by.</p>
+
+<p>And surely no people ever had their prayers more graciously granted.
+The sun shone in a cloudless sky from morning till night.  A soft little
+breeze from the sea tempered the warmth, and set all the flags and
+streamers waving.  And as the bride walked down the churchyard path on her
+husband's arm, it blew the rose petals over her, pink, and crimson, and
+white.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, her wishes realised, wore a blue sash and forget-me-nots in her hat;
+Millie stood next her with pink roses in hers, and a pink sash.  Patty was
+a blue girl, and Philippa a pink one.  And though the baskets they carried
+held not so very many roses, they were flowing over with other flowers,
+for the girls had walked miles to gather bluebells and primroses, violets
+and delicate anemones, the air smelt sweetly of spring, and the joy of
+spring was in their faces, and in their hearts as well.</p>
+
+<p>And as the bride walked away down the path, Mona looked after her with
+tender, wistful eyes, and an unspoken prayer in her heart, that she might
+be given the grace, and the power to serve her new mistress well and
+loyally, and to do her share towards making her new life in her new home
+as happy as life could be.</p>
+
+
+
+<h2>THE END.</h2>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30402 ***</div>
+</body>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Making of Mona, by Mabel Quiller-Couch
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Making of Mona
+
+Author: Mabel Quiller-Couch
+
+Illustrator: E. Wallcousins
+
+Release Date: November 4, 2009 [EBook #30402]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAKING OF MONA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Lionel Sear
+
+
+
+
+THE MAKING OF MONA.
+
+BY MABEL QUILLER-COUCH.
+(Author of 'Troublesome Ursula,' 'A Pair of Red-Polls,' 'Kitty Trenire,'
+'The Carroll Girls', Etc., Etc.)
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY E. WALLCOUSINS.
+
+LONDON
+SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.
+NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
+
+
+[Illustration: Granny stood staring at her broken treasures.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The kettle sat on the hob, and Mona sat on the floor, both as idle as idle
+could be.
+
+"I will just wait till the kettle begins to sing," thought Mona; and
+became absorbed in her book again.
+
+After a while the kettle, at any rate, seemed to repent of its laziness,
+for it began to hum softly, and then to hum loudly, and then to sing, but
+Mona was completely lost in the story she was reading, and had no mind for
+repentance or anything else.  She did not hear the kettle's song, nor even
+the rattling of its cover when it boiled, though it seemed to be trying in
+every way to attract her attention.  It went on trying, too, until at last
+it had no power to try any longer, for the fire had died low, and the
+kettle grew so chilly it had not even the heart to 'hum,' but sat on the
+black, gloomy-looking stove, looking black and gloomy too, and, if kettles
+have any power to think, it was probably thinking that poor old granny
+Barnes' tea would be scarcely worth drinking when she came home presently,
+tired and hungry, from her walk to Milbrook, for Mona, even if she
+realised that the water had boiled, would never dream of emptying it away
+and filling the kettle afresh, as she should do.
+
+But Mona had no thought for kettles, or tea, or granny either, for her
+whole mind, her eyes, her ears, and all her senses were with the heroine
+of the fascinating story she was absorbed in; and who could remember fires
+and kettles and other commonplace things when one was driving through a
+lovely park in a beautiful pony carriage, drawn by cream-coloured ponies,
+and seated beside an exquisitely dressed little lady who had more money
+than she could count, and insisted on sharing all with her companion?
+
+Mona certainly could not.  She never could manage to remember two things
+at the same time; so, as all her thoughts were absorbed by her
+golden-haired friend in the blue silk frock, granny in her old black
+merino and heavy boots was forgotten as completely as the fire, and it was
+not until someone came stumbling up the garden path and a tired voice
+said, "Well, dearie, I'm come at last, how have you got on since I've been
+gone?" that she remembered anything about either; and when she did she
+felt almost sorry that granny had come quite so soon, for if she had only
+been a few minutes later Mona might just have finished the chapter.
+
+"Oh, I'm so tired!" groaned granny, dropping wearily into her arm-chair.
+"I have been longing for a nice cup of tea for this hour and more."
+Then, as her eyes fell on the black grate, her voice changed to one of
+dismay.  "Why, Mona!" she cried, "the fire's gone clean out!  Oh, dear!
+oh, dear!"  Granny's voice was full of disappointment.  With anyone but
+Mona she would have been very cross indeed, but she was rarely cross with
+her.  "I daresay it'll catch up again quickly with a few sticks,"
+she added patiently.
+
+Mona, really ashamed of herself, ran out to the little wood-rick which
+stood always in the back-yard.  "Stupid old fire," she muttered
+impatiently, "of course it must go out, just to spite me because I wanted
+to have a little read," and she jerked out the sticks with such force that
+a whole pile of faggots came tumbling down to the ground.  She did not
+stay, though, to pick them up again, for she really was sorry for her
+carelessness, and wanted to try and catch up the fire as quickly as
+possible.  She had fully meant to have a nice fire, and the tea laid,
+and the kettle on the point of boiling, and everything as nice as could be
+by the time her grandmother got back from the town.  But one never got any
+credit for what one meant to do, thought Mona with a feeling of self-pity.
+
+By the time she got back to the kitchen her grandmother had taken off her
+bonnet and shawl and was putting on her apron.  "My feet do ache," she
+sighed.  "The roads are so rough, and it's a good step to Milbrook and
+back--leastways it seems so when you're past sixty."
+
+Mona felt another pang of shame, for it was she who should have gone to
+the town to do the shopping; but she had not wanted to, and had complained
+of being tired, and so granny had gone herself, and Mona had let her.
+
+"Let me unlace your boots, granny, and get your slippers for you."
+She thought she would feel less guilty if she did something to make her
+grandmother more comfortable.  "You sit down in your chair, I'll do all
+that's got to be done."
+
+Mrs. Barnes leaned back with a sigh of relief.  "Bless the dear child,"
+she thought affectionately, "how she does think for her old granny!"
+She had already forgotten that Mona had let the fire go out, and neglected
+to make any preparations for her home-coming; and Mona, who could be very
+thoughtful and kind if she chose, knelt down and unlaced the heavy boots,
+and slipped the warm, comfortable slippers on to the tired old feet,
+laughing and chattering cheerfully the while.
+
+"Now you are to sit there, gran, and not to dare to move to do one single
+thing.  I'm going to talk to that fire, and you'll see how I'll coax him
+up in no time, and if that kettle doesn't sing in five minutes I'll take
+the poker to him."  And, whether it was because of her coaxing or not,
+the fire soon flamed cheerfully, and the kettle, being already warm, began
+to sing almost as soon as Mona had got the cloth spread.
+
+While she waited for it to come to boiling point, she sat down on her
+little stool by the fire, and took up her book again.  "Just to have a
+little look at the pictures for a minute," she explained.  "Oh, granny, it
+is such a lovely story, I must tell you about it."
+
+"Yes, dear, I'd like to--some day."
+
+But Mona did not hear the 'some day.' She was already pouring into
+granny's ear all she had read, and granny interjected patiently,
+"Yes, dearie," and "Oh my!" and "How nice!" though she was so faint and
+weary she could not take in half of Mona's chatter.
+
+Presently the kettle boiled again, but Mona was once more lost to
+everything but her story, and it was granny who got up and made the tea.
+
+"It's all ready, dearie," she said, as she sank into her chair once more.
+"You must tell me the rest while you are having it.  Oh, there's no butter
+out."  She had to get up again and drag her aching feet to the little
+larder for the butter, and as soon as she had settled herself again she
+had to get up and get a teaspoon.  Mona had forgotten a half of the things
+she should have laid, and she had forgotten, too, that granny was tired.
+
+"And oh, granny," she went on breathlessly, "on her birthday Pauline wore
+a muslin dress, with blue forget-me-nots worked all over it, and a blue
+sash, and--and a hat just covered with forget-me-nots."
+
+"She must have looked like a bed of them," remarked Granny.
+
+"Oh, _I_ think she looked perfectly sweet!  I'd love to have clothes like
+she had.  Of course, she didn't have to do _any_ work--nothing at all all
+day long."
+
+"Well, I know a little girl who doesn't do much," remarked granny quietly,
+but Mona did not hear her.
+
+"Granny, do you think I'll be able to have a new hat this summer?
+Mine is ever so shabby--and shall I have forget-me-nots on it?  I'd rather
+have forget-me-nots than anything.  I suppose I couldn't have a blue sash
+to wear with it, could I, Gran?  I don't think they cost very very much.
+Millie Higgins, in at Seacombe, had a plaid one, and she was sure it
+didn't cost a great deal, she said.  Her uncle brought it to her,
+but Millie never wears it.  She doesn't like plaid; she wishes it was
+pink.  I'd wear it if 'twas mine, but I'd rather have a blue one.  Do you
+think I can have a new hat, granny?"
+
+"We will see.  If your father is able to send some more money for you I
+might be able to manage it; but with your stepmother always ailing his
+money seems to be all wanted for doctor's bills and medicines.  It does
+seem hard."
+
+Mona's face fell.  "And I don't suppose the medicine does any good, do
+you, granny?"
+
+"Some folks believe in it, and I s'pose if you believe in it it does you
+good.  For my own part, I never had but two bottles in my life, and I
+don't see that I'm any the worse for going without.  In fact, I----"
+
+Mona, who always sat at the side of the table facing the window, sprang to
+her feet excitedly.  "Why, it's the postman! and he's coming in here,"
+she interrupted, and was at the door to meet him before he had power to
+knock.  She came back more slowly, carefully studying the one letter she
+held.  "It's from father," she said eagerly, as she at last handed it to
+her grandmother.  "Oh, granny!  I wonder if he has sent any money?"
+
+Granny was evidently surprised.  "A letter from your father!  Whatever can
+he be writing about?  I haven't written to him since I had his last.
+I hope he isn't having more trouble."
+
+"Perhaps he has written to know why you haven't," said Mona shrewdly.
+
+"Oh, granny, do make haste and open the letter, I am longing to know
+what's inside!"
+
+But letters did not come every day to Hillside Cottage, so when they did
+they must be made the most of.  Mrs. Barnes examined the envelope back and
+front; the handwriting, the stamp, the postmark; then she had to go to a
+drawer to get a skewer with which to slit the envelope, then her
+spectacles had to be found, polished, and put on, and at long last she
+took out the letter and began to read.
+
+Mona chafed with impatience as she watched her.  Her eyes looked ready to
+pop out of her head with eagerness.  "Why don't you let me read it to
+you?" she cried at last, irritably, and regretted her words as soon as
+they were spoken.  Granny laid the letter on the table beside her and
+fixed her eyes on Mona instead.  "I am not got past reading my own letters
+yet," she said sternly, looking out over the tops of her spectacles at
+her.  Mona was dreadfully afraid they would fall off, and then the
+polishing and fixing process would all have to be gone through again,
+but she had the wisdom to hold her tongue this time, and granny took up
+the letter again, and at last began to read it, while Mona tried hard to
+read granny's face.
+
+She did not utter aloud one word of what she was reading, but presently
+she gave a little half-suppressed cry.
+
+"Oh, granny, what's the matter?"  Mona could keep quiet no longer.
+
+"Oh, dear! oh, dear!  Here's a pretty fine thing.  Your father wants you
+to go home."
+
+Mona's face fell again.  Then he had not sent any money, and she would not
+be able to have her hat!  For the moment nothing else seemed to matter.
+
+"What does he want me home for?" she asked sullenly.
+
+"Your stepmother has been ill again, and the doctor says she mustn't be
+left alone, and must have someone to help her.  She's terrible nervous
+when your father's away to the fishing, so you've got to be fetched home."
+Mrs. Barnes spoke resentfully.  Her daughter, Mona's mother, had died when
+Mona was a sturdy little maiden of ten, and for eighteen months Mona had
+run wild.  Her father could not bear to part with her, nor would he have
+anyone to live with them.  So Mona had been his housekeeper, or rather,
+the house had kept itself, for Mona had taken no care of it, nor of her
+father's comforts, nor of her own clothes, or his.  She just let
+everything go, and had a gloriously lazy, happy time, with no one to
+restrain her, or make her do anything she did not want to do.
+
+She was too young, of course, to be put in such a position; but she did
+not even do what she might have done, and no one was surprised, and no one
+blamed her father--no one, at least, but Mrs. Barnes--when at the end of
+eighteen months he married pretty, gentle Lucy Garland, one of the
+housemaids at the Squire's.
+
+Mrs. Barnes, though, resented very strongly anyone being put in her dead
+daughter's place, with control over her daughter's child, and she had
+written angrily enough to Peter, demanding that Mona should be given up to
+her.  And though he doubted the wisdom of it, to please and pacify her,
+Peter Carne had let her have the child.  "Not for good," he said,
+"for I can't part with her altogether, but for a long visit."
+
+"If she puts Mona against Lucy, it'll be a bad job," he thought
+anxiously, "and mischief may be done that it'll take more than I know to
+undo."
+
+However, Mona felt none of the dislike of her stepmother that her
+grandmother felt.  In fact, she was too happy-go-lucky and fond of change
+to feel very strongly about anything.  She had got her father's home and
+all his affairs into such a muddle she was not sorry to go right away and
+leave it all.  She was tired of even the little housework she did.
+She hated having to get up and light the fire, and, on the whole, she was
+very glad for someone else to step in and take it all off her shoulders.
+And as she had left her home before her stepmother came to it, she had not
+experienced what it was to have someone in authority over her.
+
+So Mona felt no real grievance against her stepmother, and, with all her
+faults, she was too healthy-minded to invent one.  Her grandmother's not
+too kind remarks about her had fallen on indifferent ears, and,
+fortunately, had had no effect except to make Mona feel a sort of mild
+scorn for anyone so constantly ailing as Lucy Carne was.
+
+She felt no sympathy for the cause of the ill-health, even though she knew
+that it all began one bitter, stormy night when Lucy and the wives of the
+other men who were out at sea stood for hours watching for the first signs
+of the little storm-tossed boats, in the agony of their hearts, deaf and
+blind, and entirely unconscious of the driving sheets of rain and the
+biting east wind which soaked and chilled them to the bone.
+
+When at daybreak the storm lulled, and the boats, with all safe on board,
+were seen beating up before the wind, all the misery and wet and cold were
+forgotten as they hurried joyfully home to make up big fires and prepare
+hot food for the exhausted men.  But more than one woman paid heavily for
+the night's experience, and Lucy Carne was among them.
+
+For days she had lain writhing in the agony of rheumatic fever.  For days
+she had lain at the gates of death, and when at last she came back to
+life again, it was such a wreck of her old self that she was scarcely able
+to do anything.  And this in Granny Barnes' eyes had been an added
+grievance.
+
+It was a greater grievance than ever now, for it meant that her
+grandchild, her very own daughter's child, was to be taken from her, to
+work for the stranger who had taken her daughter's place.
+
+Fortunately, Mona had no such foolish thoughts.  Her only grievance was
+that the money which might have been spent on a new hat would have to be
+spent on the carrier.  "And nobody will be any the better for it, except
+Mr. Darbie, and he's got lots already.  They say he has a whole bagful in
+a box under his bed."
+
+"Your stepmother will be better off.  She'll have you," said Granny Barnes
+crossly.  "Well, the letter's spoilt my tea for me.  Anyway, I don't want
+anything more.  I've had enough for one while."
+
+Mona looked surprised.  "Oh, has it! I thought you were hungry, granny.
+I am," and she helped herself to another slice of bread and butter.
+"I wonder which day I'd better go?--and I must wear my best frock, mustn't
+I?  Such a lot of people go by the van, and you've got to sit so close you
+can't help seeing if anybody's clothes are shabby."
+
+"Um, you seem to have thought it all out, but you don't seem to think
+anything of leaving me, nor of what my feelings may be.  You'd better wear
+your best frock and your best hat too, then your father and your
+stepmother will see that you want something new for Sundays.  It's as well
+folk should learn that all the money can't be spent on doctors and
+physic--that there's other things wanted too!"
+
+But this speech only sent Mona's expectations higher, and lessened her
+regrets at leaving.  If going home to Seacombe and her new mother meant
+having a new hat and dress, she would only be the more pleased at having
+to go.  She was so occupied with these thoughts that she did not notice
+her grandmother rise and leave the kitchen, nor did she see the tears in
+the sad old eyes.  But her dreams of a journey, clad all in her best,
+were suddenly broken in upon by a sharp scream.  The scream came from the
+backyard.  Mona flew out at once.  It was getting dark out of doors now,
+but not too dark for her to see her grandmother stretched on the ground
+with faggots of wood lying all around her.
+
+For a moment Mona's heart seemed to stand still with fear.  She thought
+her grandmother was killed, or, at any rate, had broken her leg.  Then, to
+her intense relief, Mrs. Barnes groaned, and began to rouse herself.
+
+"However did these things come scattered about like this, I should like to
+know," she cried angrily.  But in her relief at knowing she was able to
+move and speak Mona did not mind granny's crossness.
+
+"Didn't you pull them down?"
+
+"I pull them down." Granny's voice was shrill with indignation.  "It was
+they pulled me down!  I wonder I wasn't killed outright.  It must have
+been those cats that knocked them over.  They are always ranging all over
+the yard.  I shall tell Mrs. Lane if she can't keep them in she'll have to
+get rid of them.  Oh, dear, what a shaking I've had, and I might have
+broke my leg and my head and everything.  Well, can't you try an' give me
+a hand to help me up?"
+
+But Mona was standing dumb-stricken.  It had come back to her at last.
+It was she who had pulled down the faggots and left them.  She had meant
+to go out again and pick them up, and, of course, had forgotten about
+them, and she might have been the cause of a terrible accident!
+She was so shocked and so full of remorse, she could not find a word to
+utter.  Fortunately, it was dark, and her grandmother was too absorbed to
+notice her embarrassment.  All her time was taken up in getting on to her
+feet again and peering about her to try and catch sight of the cats.
+
+Perhaps if granny had been less determined to wage war on the cats,
+Mona might have found courage to make her confession, but while she waited
+for a chance to speak her courage ebbed away.  She had done so many wrong
+things that afternoon, she was ashamed to own to more, and, after all, she
+thought, it would not make it better for granny if she did know who really
+scattered the faggots.  So in the end Mona held her tongue, and contented
+herself with giving what assistance she could.
+
+"This is Black Monday for me!" she said to herself as she helped her
+grandmother into the house again.  "Never mind, I'll begin better
+to-morrow.  There's one good thing, there's no real harm done."
+
+She was not so sure, though, that 'no harm was done' when she woke the
+next morning and heard loud voices and sound of quarrelling coming from
+the garden.  She soon, indeed, began to feel that there had been a great
+deal of harm done.
+
+"Well, what I say is," her grandmother cried shrilly, "your cats were
+nearly the death of me, and I'll trouble you to keep them in your own
+place."
+
+"And what I say is," cried her neighbour, "my cats were never near your
+faggot rick.  They didn't go into your place at all last night; they were
+both asleep by my kitchen fire from three in the afternoon till after we'd
+had our supper.  Me and my husband both saw them.  You can ask him
+yourself if you like."
+
+"I shan't ask him.  I wouldn't stoop to bandy words about it.  I know, and
+I've a right to my own opinion."
+
+"Do you mean to say you don't believe what I say?" cried Mrs. Lane
+indignantly.  "Do you mean to tell me I'm telling an untruth?
+Well, Mrs. Barnes, if you won't speak to my husband, and won't believe me,
+perhaps you'll ask your Mona!  I daresay she can tell you how the faggots
+got scattered.  She was out there, I saw her from----"
+
+"That's right! Try and put it off on the poor child! Do you expect me to
+believe that my Mona would have left those faggots----"
+
+"Ask her, that's all," said Mrs. Lane, meaningly.  "And now I've done.
+I ain't going to have anything more to say.  You're too vi'lent and
+onreasonable, Mrs. Barnes, and I'll trouble you not to address me again
+till you've 'pologised."
+
+Granny laughed, a short sarcastic laugh.  "'Pologise!" she cried shrilly,
+"and me in the right too!  No, not if I lived next door to you for fifty
+years, I wouldn't 'pologise.  When you've 'pologised to me, Mrs. Lane,
+I'll begin to think about speaking to you again."
+
+Mona, standing shivering by the window, listened to it all with a sick
+feeling of shame and dismay.  "Oh, why does granny say such dreadful
+things!  Oh, I wish I'd spoken out at once!  Now, when granny asks me,
+I shall have to tell her, and oh," miserably, "won't she be angry?"
+
+But Mona escaped that ordeal.  Her grandmother did not mention the
+subject, for one reason; she felt too unwell; an outburst of anger always
+made her ill; and for another, she was already ashamed of herself and of
+what she had said.  Altogether, she was so uncomfortable about the whole
+matter, and so ashamed, and vexed, she wanted to try to forget all about
+it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+John Darbie and his one-horse van journeyed from Milbrook to Seacombe
+every Tuesday and Friday, passing Mrs. Barnes' cottage on their way;
+and on Wednesdays and Saturdays he journeyed home again.  The two places
+were only ten miles apart, but, as John's horse 'Lion' never travelled
+faster than three miles an hour, and frequent stops had to be made to pick
+up passengers and luggage, and put down other passengers and other
+luggage, the journey was seldom accomplished in less than six hours.
+
+The day that Mona travelled to Seacombe the journey took longer than
+usual, for they had to stop at Barnes Gate--an old turnpike--to pick up a
+couple of young pigs, which were to be brought by a farm boy to meet them
+there; and as the pigs refused to be picked up, and were determined to
+race back to their home, it took John and the farmer's boy, and some of
+the passengers, quite a long time to persuade them that their fate lay in
+another direction.
+
+Mona, homesick and depressed, was quite glad of the distraction, though
+she felt sorry for the poor pigs.  At that moment she felt sorry for
+anyone or anything which had to leave its old home for a new one.
+
+Only a few days had elapsed since that evening when her father's letter
+had come, and her grandmother had fallen over the faggots, but such long,
+unhappy days they had been.  Her grandmother had been silent and
+depressed, and she herself had been very unhappy, and everything had
+seemed wrong.  Sometimes she had longed to be gone, and the parting over.
+Yet, when at last the day came, and she had to say good-bye to granny,
+and her own little bedroom, and the cottage, and to leave without saying
+good-bye to Mrs. Lane, it seemed almost more than she could bear.
+She looked out at the cottage and at granny, standing waving her
+handkerchief, but she could scarcely see either because of the mist in her
+eyes, and, when at last the van turned a corner which cut them off
+entirely from view, the mist in her eyes changed to rain.
+
+If it had not been for the other people in the van, Mona would have jumped
+out and run back again, and have confessed all to granny, and have been
+happy once more.  She knew that if she asked granny to forgive her,
+she would do so before long, even if she was vexed with her at first.
+
+But Mona's courage failed her.  The people in the van would try to stop
+her, and very likely would succeed, and there would be such a chattering
+and fuss.  Her spirit sank at the thought of it, and so she hesitated and
+wavered until it was too late.
+
+It was not to be wondered at that she welcomed the little scene with the
+pigs at the four cross-roads, and felt quite glad when Mr. Darbie asked
+her to get out and stand at the end of one of the roads to keep the poor
+little things from running down it.
+
+"We shan't get to Seacombe till nightfall," grumbled the old man when at
+last he had got the pair into two sacks, and had fastened them up securely
+on the tail-board of the van.
+
+"And I've got to catch the five o'clock train from there," said one of the
+passengers sourly.  "If ever you want to be a little bit earlier than
+usual, you're bound to be later.  It's always the way."
+
+Old John Darbie always recovered his temper when other people had lost
+theirs.  He realised how foolish they looked and sounded.  "Aw, don't you
+worry, missus," he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
+"She'll wait for me.  They wouldn't let no train start 'fore me and my
+passengers was in!"
+
+All the rest of the passengers laughed, Mona too, at which the sour-faced
+woman glared at them angrily.  Then they jogged on again, and by that time
+Mona had recovered sufficiently to be able to take more interest in her
+surroundings.
+
+She noticed that the woman beside her, and the woman opposite her, were
+looking her up and down, and she felt very glad that she had on her best
+hat and dress.  She did wish, though, that she had mended the hole in her
+gloves, for one of the women seemed more attracted by them than by
+anything else, and it was really rather embarrassing.  She longed to put
+her hands behind her back to hide them, but that would have looked too
+pointed; so, instead, she turned round and looked out of the window,
+pretending to be lost to everything but the view.
+
+It was a very pretty road that they were travelling, but very hilly,
+and Lion's pace grew, if possible, even slower.  One or two of the
+passengers complained loudly, but Mona was enjoying herself thoroughly
+now.  To her everything was of interest, from the hedges and the ploughed
+fields, just showing a tinge of green, to the cottages and farms they
+passed here and there.  To many people each mile would have seemed just
+like the last, but to Mona each had a charm of its own.  She knew all the
+houses by sight, and knew the people who dwelt in some of them, and when
+by and by the van drew near to Seacombe, and at last, between a dip in the
+land, she caught her first glimpse of the sea, her heart gave a great
+leap, and a something caught in her throat.  This was home, this was her
+real home.  Mona knew it now, if she had never realised it before.
+
+At Hillside something had always been lacking--she could hardly have told
+what, but somehow, she had never loved the place itself.  It had never
+been quite 'home' to her, and never could be.
+
+"I expect you're tired, dear, ain't you?" the woman beside her asked in a
+kindly voice.  The face Mona turned to her was pale, but it was with
+feeling, not tiredness.
+
+"Oh, no," she cried, hardly knowing what she felt, or how to put it into
+words.  "I was a little while ago--but I ain't now.  I--I don't think I
+could ever feel tired while I could see that!" She pointed towards the
+stretch of blue water, with the setting sun making a road of gold right
+across it and into the heaven that joined it.
+
+The woman smiled sadly.  "Are you so fond of it as all that!  I wish I
+was.  I can't abide it--it frightens me.  I never look at it if I can help
+it.  It makes me feel bad."
+
+"And it makes me feel good," thought Mona, but she was shy of saying so.
+"I think I should be ashamed to do anything mean when I was in sight of
+the sea," she added to herself.  And then the old horse drew up suddenly,
+and she saw that they had actually reached their journey's end.
+
+As she stepped down from the van and stood alone in the inn yard, where
+John Darbie always unloaded, and put up his horse and van, Mona for the
+first time felt shy and nervous.  She and her new mother were really
+strangers to each other.  They had met but once, and that for only a
+little while.
+
+"And p'raps we shan't get on a bit," thought Mona.  "P'raps she's very
+particular, and will be always scolding!" and she felt very miserable.
+And then, as she looked about her, and found that no one, as far as she
+could tell, had come to meet her, she began to feel very forlorn, and
+ill-used too.  All the sharp little unkind remarks about Lucy Carne, which
+had fallen from Granny Barnes' lips, came back to her mind.
+
+"I do think somebody might have come to meet me!" she said to herself, and
+being tired, and nervous, and a little bit homesick for granny, the tears
+rushed to her eyes.  Hastily diving in her pocket for her handkerchief,
+her fingers touched her purse, and she suddenly realised that she had not
+paid John Darbie his fare!  With a thrill and a blush at her own
+forgetfulness, she hurried back to where he was busy unloading his van.
+He had already taken down the pigs and some bundles of peasticks, and a
+chair which wanted a new cane seat, and was about to mount to the top to
+drag down the luggage which was up there, when he saw Mona waiting for
+him.
+
+"Please, here's my fare.  I'm sorry I forgot it, and how am I to get my
+box up to my house?"
+
+"Get your box up?  Why the same way as you'll get yourself up.  Hop inside
+again, and I'll drive 'ee both up in a minute.  I promised your mother I
+would.  You hold on to your money now, it'll be time enough to settle up
+when I've done my job," and the old man chuckled amiably at his little
+joke.
+
+But Mona did not want to get back into the close, stuffy van again, and
+sit there in solitary state, with everyone who passed by staring at her.
+So, as soon as John Darbie was safely on the top and busy amongst the
+boxes there, she walked quietly out of the yard and into the street.
+
+How familiar it all was, and how unchanged!  After Milbrook--the little
+ugly new town, scarcely worthy the name of town--and the hamlet where her
+granny lived, the street and houses looked small and old-fashioned, but
+they looked homelike and strong.  The Milbrook houses, with their walls
+half a brick thick, and their fronts all bow-windows, would not have
+lasted any time in little stormy, wind-swept Seacombe.  Experience had
+taught Seacombe folk that their walls must be nearly as solid as the
+cliffs on which many of them were built, and the windows must be small and
+set deep in the walls; otherwise they were as likely as not to be blown in
+altogether when the winter storms raged; that roofs must come well down to
+meet the little windows, like heavy brows protecting the eyes beneath,
+which under their shelter, could gaze out defiantly at sea and storm.
+
+To Mona, seeing them again after many months' absence, the houses looked
+rough and poor, and plain; yet she loved them, and, as she walked up the
+steep, narrow street, she glanced about her with eager, glowing eyes.
+For the time her loneliness and nervousness were forgotten.  Here and
+there someone recognised her, but at that hour there were never many
+people about.
+
+"Why, Mona Carne! is it really you!  Well, your mother and father'll be
+glad to have you home again." Mona beamed gratefully on the speaker.
+
+"Is it really Mona," cried another.  "Why, now, you've grown!  I didn't
+know you till Mrs. Row said your name!"
+
+Mona began to feel less forlorn and ill-used, and she was more glad than
+ever that she had on her best clothes, and had put her hair up in squibs
+the night before.
+
+Outside one of the few shops Seacombe possessed, she drew up and looked in
+at the windows with interest.  They had improved a little.  The draper's
+was particularly gay with new spring things, and to Mona who had not seen
+a shop lately, unless she walked the three miles to Milbrook, the sight
+was fascinating.  One window was full of ties, gloves, and ribbons; the
+other was as gay as a garden with flowers of every kind and colour, all
+blooming at once.  Many of them were crude and common, but to Mona's eyes
+they were beautiful.  There were wreaths of wall-flowers, of roses, and of
+lilacs, but the prettiest of all to Mona was one of roses and
+forget-me-nots woven in together.
+
+"Oh," she gasped, "how I'd love to have that one!  Oh, I'd love it!"
+There were hats in the window, too.  Pretty, light, wide-brimmed hats.
+Mona's eyes travelled backwards and forwards over them till she saw one of
+the palest green straw, the colour of a duck's egg.
+
+"Oh, wouldn't the roses and forget-me-nots look lovely on that, with just
+a bow of white ribbon at the back.  Oh, I wish----"
+
+"Why, it's Mona Carne!" cried a voice behind her, and Mona, wheeling
+swiftly round, found Millie Higgins at her elbow.
+
+"Why, who ever would have thought of meeting you strolling up the street
+just as though you had never been away!" cried Millie.  "But you've grown,
+Mona.  You are ever so much taller than when you went away, and your
+hair's longer too.  Do you think I am changed?"
+
+Mona was delighted.  She wanted to be tall, and she wanted to have nice
+long hair.  She had never cared for Millie Higgins before, but at that
+moment she felt that she liked her very much indeed, and they chattered
+eagerly to each other, lost to everything but the news they had to pour
+into each other's ears.
+
+After a little while, though, Millie tired of talking.  She wanted to get
+on, and what Millie wanted to do she generally did.  "I must fly--and
+there's your poor mother home worrying herself all this time to a
+fiddle-string, wondering what has become of you.  She expected the van an
+hour ago, and had got your tea all ready and waiting for you."
+
+Mona started guiltily, and then began to excuse herself.  "Well, we were
+late in coming, we were so long on the road.  Mr. Darbie said he'd drive
+me up, but I liked walking best.  If I had gone up by the van I shouldn't
+have been there yet, so it's all the same."
+
+"The van!  Why, it's gone by.  Only a minute ago, though.  If you run
+you'll be there almost as soon as he will."
+
+Without staying to say good-bye, Mona ran, but either Millie's minute had
+been a very long one, or 'Lion' had stepped out more briskly at the end of
+the day than at the beginning, for when Mona got to the house John Darbie
+was just coming away.  "Thank'ee, ma'am," he was saying, and Mona saw him
+putting some coins in his pocket.
+
+"I've got the----" she began to call out to him, but stopped, for her new
+mother came out to the gate, and looked anxiously down the hill.  She was
+looking for herself, Mona knew, and a fit of shyness came over her which
+drove every other thought from her mind.
+
+But almost as quickly as the shyness came it disappeared again, for Lucy's
+eyes fell on her, and, her face alight with pleasure, Lucy came forward
+with arms outstretched in welcome.  "Why, you poor little tired thing,
+you," she cried, kissing her warmly, "you must be famished!  Come in, do.
+I was quite frightened about you, for I've been expecting you this hour
+and more, and then when Mr. Darbie came, and brought only your box,
+it seemed as if I wasn't ever going to see you.  Come in, dear," drawing
+Mona's arm through her own, and leading her into the house.  "Sit down and
+rest a bit before you go up to see your room."
+
+Exhausted with excitement, and talking, and the extra exertion, Lucy
+herself had to sit down for a few minutes to get her breath.  Mona, more
+tired than she realised until she came to sit down, lay back in her
+father's big chair and looked about her with shy interest.  How familiar
+it all seemed, yet how changed.  Instead of the old torn, soiled drab
+paper, the walls were covered with a pretty blue one, against which the
+dresser and table and the old familiar china showed up spotless and
+dainty; the steel on the stove might have been silver, the floor was as
+clean and snowy as the table.
+
+Mona's memory of it all was very different.  In those days there had been
+muddle, dust, grease everywhere, the grate was always greasy and choked
+with ashes, the table sloppy and greasy, the floor unwashed, even unswept,
+the dressers with more dust than anything else on them.  Mona could
+scarcely believe that the same place and things could look so different.
+
+"Oh, how nice it all is," she said in a voice full of admiration, and Lucy
+smiled with pleasure.  She knew that many girls would not have admitted
+any improvement even if they had seen it.
+
+"Shall we go upstairs now?" she said.  "I've got my breath again," and she
+led the way up the steep little staircase, which Mona remembered so well.
+
+"You know the way to your old room, don't you?"
+
+Mona walked ahead to it, but at the door she drew up with a cry of
+delight.  "Oh, Mother!" she turned to say with a beaming face, and without
+noticing that she had called her by the name about which she and granny
+had debated so long.
+
+Lucy noticed it though, and coloured with pleasure.  She had felt more shy
+than had Mona, about suggesting what her stepchild should call her.
+"Thank you, dear, for calling me that," she said, putting her arm about
+her and kissing her.  "I didn't know, I wondered how you would feel about
+it."
+
+But Mona was too delighted with everything she saw to feel anything but
+pleasure and gratitude then.  The walls had been papered with a pretty
+rose-covered paper, the shabby little bed had been painted white.
+Pretty pink curtains hung at the window, and beside the bed stood a small
+bookcase with all Mona's own books in it.  Books that she had left lying
+about torn and shabby, and had thought would have been thrown away, or
+burnt, long ago.  Lucy had collected them, and mended and cleaned them.
+And Lucy, who had brought to her new house many of the ideas she had
+gathered while in service at the Squire's, had painted the furniture white
+too, to match the bed.
+
+Mona had never in her life before seen anything so pretty and dainty.
+"Isn't it lovely!" she cried, sitting down plump on the clean white quilt,
+and crushing it.  "I can't believe it's for me."  She looked about her
+with admiring eyes as she dragged off her hat and tossed it from her,
+accidentally knocking over the candlestick as she did so.
+
+Lucy stooped and picked up both.  The candlestick was chipped, the hat was
+certainly not improved.
+
+"The chipped place will not show much," said Lucy in her gentle, tired
+voice, "but you've crushed the flowers in your hat."
+
+Mona looked at the hat with indifferent eyes.  "Have I? Oh, well, it's my
+last year's one.  I shall want a new one for the summer."
+
+"Shall you, dear?"
+
+Mona did not notice the little anxious pucker of her mother's forehead.
+Carried away by all that had been done for her already, she had the
+feeling that money must be plentiful at Cliff Cottage.  Her father's boat
+had done well, she supposed.
+
+But before any more was said, a sound of footsteps reached them from
+below, and a loud voice, gruff but kindly, shouted through the little
+place "Lucy, where are you, my girl?  Has the little maid come?" and the
+next moment Mona was darting down the stairs and, taking the last in one
+flying leap, as in the old days, sprang into her father's arms.
+
+"My word!  What a big maid you are grown!" he cried, holding her a little
+way from him, and eyeing her proudly.  "Granny Barnes must have taken good
+care of you!  And now you've come to take care of Lucy and me.
+Eh!  Isn't that it?"
+
+"Yes, dad, that's it," cried Mona, excitedly, and sat back with all her
+weight on the pretty flowers and the fresh eggs that her grandmother had
+sent to Lucy by her.
+
+Her father looked vexed.  He knew how much his ailing wife enjoyed fresh
+eggs, and how seldom she allowed herself one, but he could not very well
+express his feelings just when Mona had come back to her home after her
+long absence, so he only laughed a little ruefully, and said, "Same as
+ever, Mona!  Same as ever!"
+
+But, to his surprise, tears welled up into Mona's eyes.  "I--I didn't mean
+to be," she said tremulously.  "I meant to try to be careful--but I--I've
+done nothing but break things ever since I came.  You--you'll be wishing
+you had never had me home."
+
+"We shan't do that, I know," said Lucy kindly.  "There's some days when
+one seems to break everything one touches--but they don't happen often.
+Now I'll make the tea.  I'm sure we all want some.  Come, Peter, and take
+your own chair.  There's no moving around the kitchen till we've put you
+in your corner.  Mona, will you sit in the window?"
+
+"I think I ought to stand," said Mona tragically.  "I've sat down once too
+often already."
+
+At which they all burst out laughing, and drew round the table in the
+happiest of spirits.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+From the moment she lay down in her little white bed, Mona had slept the
+whole night through.  She had risen early the day before--early at least,
+for her, for her grandmother always got up first, and lighted the fire and
+swept the kitchen before she called Mona, who got down, as a rule, in time
+to sit down to the breakfast her grandmother had got ready for her.
+
+On this first morning in her home she woke of her own accord, and
+half-waking, half-sleeping, and with not a thought of getting up, she
+turned over and was about to snuggle down into the cosy warmth again,
+when across her drowsy eyes flashed the light from her sunny window.
+
+"Why, how does the window get over there?" she asked herself, and then
+recollection came pouring over her, and sleepiness vanished, for life
+seemed suddenly very pleasant and interesting, and full of things to do,
+and see, and think about.
+
+Presently the clock in the church-tower struck seven.  "Only seven!
+Then I've got another hour before I need get up!  But I'll just have a
+look out to see what it all looks like.  How funny it seems to be back
+again!"  She slipped out of bed and across the floor to draw back the
+curtains.  Outside the narrow street stretched sunny and deserted.
+The garden, drenched with dew, was bathed in sunshine too.  But it was not
+on the garden or the street that her eyes lingered, but on the sea beyond
+the low stone wall on the opposite side of the way.  Deep blue it
+stretched, its bosom gently heaving, blue as the sky above, and the jewels
+with which its bosom was decked flashed and sparkled in the morning
+sunshine.
+
+"Oh-h-h!" gasped Mona.  "Oh-h-h!  I don't know how anyone can ever live
+away from the sea!"
+
+In spite of the sun, though, the morning was cold, with a touch of frost
+in the air which nipped Mona's toes, and sent her scuttling back to her
+bed again.  She remembered, joyfully, from the old days, that if she
+propped herself up a little she could see the sea from her bed.
+So she lay with her pillow doubled up under her head, and the bedclothes
+drawn up to her chin, and gazed and gazed at the sea and sky, until
+presently she was on the sea, in a boat, floating through waves covered
+with diamonds, and the diamonds came pattering against the sides of the
+boat, as though inviting her to put out her hands and gather them up,
+and so become rich for ever.  Strangely enough, though, she did not heed,
+or care for them.  All she wanted was a big bunch of the forget-me-nots
+which grew on the opposite shore, and she rowed and rowed, with might and
+main, to reach the forget-me-nots, and she put up a sail and flew before
+the wind, yet no nearer could she get to the patch of blue and green.
+
+"But I can smell them!" she cried.  "I can smell them!" and then
+remembered that forget-me-nots had no scent and realised that the scent
+was that of the wallflowers growing in her own garden; and suddenly all
+the spirit went out of her, for she did not care for what she could reach,
+but only for the unattainable; and the oars dropped out of her hands, and
+the diamonds no longer tapped against the boat, for the boat was still,
+and Mona sat in it disappointed and sullen.  The sun went in too,
+and nothing was the same but the scent of the flowers.  And then, through
+her sullen thoughts, the sound of her father's voice came to her.
+
+"Mona! Mona!  It's eight o'clock.  Ain't you getting up yet? I want you to
+see about the breakfast.  Your mother isn't well."
+
+Mona jumped up with a start, and felt rather cross in consequence.
+"All right, father," she called back.  "I'll come as soon as I can,"
+but to herself she added, in an injured tone, "I s'pose this is what I've
+been had home for!  Hard lines, I call it, to have to get up and light the
+fire the very first morning."
+
+Her father called through the door again.  "The fire's lighted, and
+burning nicely, and I've put the kettle on.  I lighted it before I went
+out.  I didn't call 'ee then, because I thought I heard you moving."
+
+Then her father had been up and dressed for an hour or two, and at work
+already!  A faint sense of shame crossed Mona's mind.  "All right,
+father," she called back more amiably, "I'll dress as quick as I can.
+I won't be more than a few minutes."
+
+"That's a good maid," with a note of relief in his voice, and then she
+heard him go softly down the stairs.
+
+It always takes one a little longer than usual to dress in a strange
+place, but it took Mona longer than it need have done, for instead of
+unpacking her box the night before, and hanging up her frocks, and putting
+her belongings neatly away in their places, she had just tumbled
+everything over anyhow, to get at her nightdress, and so had left them.
+It had taken her quite as long to find the nightdress as it would have to
+lift the things out and put them in their proper places, for the garment
+was almost at the bottom of the box, but Mona did not think of that.
+Now, though, when she wanted to find her morning frock and apron, she grew
+impatient and irritable.  "Perhaps if I tip everything out on the floor
+I'll find the old things that way!" she snapped crossly.  "I s'pose I
+shan't find them until they've given me all the trouble they can,"
+and she had actually thrown a few things in every direction, when she
+suddenly stopped and sat back on her heels.
+
+"I've half a mind to put on my best dress again, then I can come and look
+for the old one when I ain't in such a hurry."  The dress--her best one--
+was lying temptingly on a chair close beside her.  She hesitated,
+looked at it again, and picked it up.  As she did so, something fell out
+of the pocket.  It was her purse, the little blue one her granny had
+bought for her at Christmas.  She picked it up and opened it, and as she
+did so the colour rushed over her face.  In one of the pockets was the
+eighteenpence which had been given to her to pay John Darbie with.
+"I--I suppose I ought to have given it to mother, but it went right out of
+my head."  She completed her dressing in a thoughtful mood, but she did
+find, and put on, her old morning dress.  "I suppose I had better tell
+her--about the money."  She put the blue purse in a drawer, however,
+and tossed in a lot of things on top of it.
+
+When at last she got downstairs it was already past half-past eight,
+and the fire was burning low again.  "Oh, dear," she cried, irritably,
+"how ever am I going to get breakfast with a fire like that and how am I
+to know what to get or where anything is kept. I think I might have had a
+day or two given me to settle down in.  I s'pose I'd better get some
+sticks first and make the fire up.  Bother the old thing, it only went out
+just to vex me!"
+
+She was feeling hungry and impatient, and out of tune with everything.
+At Hillside she would have been just sitting down to a comfortable meal
+which had cost her no trouble to get.  For the moment she wished she was
+back there again.
+
+As she returned to the kitchen with her hands full of wood, her mother
+came down the stairs.  She looked very white and ill, and very fragile,
+but she was fully dressed.
+
+"I thought you were too bad to get up," said Mona, unsmilingly.
+"I was going to bring you up some breakfast as soon as I could,
+but the silly old fire was gone down----"
+
+"I was afraid it would.  That was why I got up.  I couldn't be still,
+I was so fidgeted about your father's breakfast.  He'll be home for it in
+a few minutes.  He's had a busy morning, and must want something."
+
+Mona looked glummer than ever.  "I never had to get up early at granny's,"
+she said in a reproachful voice.  "I ain't accustomed to it.  I s'pose I
+shall have to get so."
+
+"Did you let your grandmother--did your grandmother come down first and
+get things ready for you?" asked Lucy, surprised; and something in her
+voice, or words, made Mona feel ashamed, instead of proud of the fact.
+
+"Granny liked getting up early," she said, excusingly.  Lucy did not make
+any comment, and Mona felt more ashamed than if she had.
+
+"Hasn't father had his breakfast yet?" she asked presently.  "He always
+used to come home for it at eight."
+
+"He did to-day, but you see there wasn't any.  The fire wasn't lighted
+even.  He thought you were dressing, and he wouldn't let me get up.
+When he'd lighted the fire he went off to work again.  He's painting his
+boat, and he said he'd finish giving her her first coat before he'd stop
+again; then she could be drying.  I'll manage better another morning.
+I daresay I'll feel better to-morrow."
+
+Lucy did look very unwell, and Mona's heart was touched.  "I wish father
+had told me earlier," she said in a less grumbling tone.  "I was awake at
+seven, and got up and looked out of the window.  I never thought of
+dressing then, it seemed so early, and I didn't hear father moving."
+
+"Never mind, dear, we will manage better another time.  It's nice having
+you home, Mona; the house seems so much more cheerful.  You will be a
+great comfort to us, I know."
+
+Mona's ill-temper vanished.  "I do want to be," she said shyly, "and I am
+glad to be home.  Oh, mother, it was lovely to see the sea again.
+I felt--oh, I can't tell you how I felt when I first caught a glimpse of
+it.  I don't know how ever I stayed away so long."
+
+Lucy laughed ruefully.  "I wish I loved it like that," she said, "but I
+can't make myself like it even.  It always makes me feel miserable."
+
+A heavy step was heard on the cobbled path outside, and for a moment a big
+body cut off the flood of sunshine pouring in at the doorway.
+"Is breakfast ready?" demanded Peter Carne's loud, good-tempered voice.
+"Hullo, Lucy!  Then you got up, after all!  Well--of all the obstinate
+women!"
+
+Lucy smiled up at him bravely.  "Yes, I've got down to breakfast.
+I thought I'd rather have it down here with company than upstairs alone.
+Isn't it nice having Mona home, father?"
+
+Peter laughed.  "I ain't going to begin by spoiling the little maid with
+flattery, but yet, 'tis very," and he beamed good-naturedly on both.
+"Now, then, let's begin.  I'm as hungry as a hunter."
+
+By that time the cloth was laid, a dish of fried bacon and bread was
+keeping hot in the oven, and smelling most appetisingly to hungry folk,
+and the kettle was about to boil over.  Through the open doorway the
+sunshine and the scent of wallflowers poured in.
+
+"Them there wallflowers beat anything I ever came across for smell,"
+remarked Peter as he finished his second cup of tea.
+
+"I dreamed about wallflowers," said Mona, "and I seemed to smell them
+quite strong," and she told them her dream--at least a part of it.
+She left out about the forget-me-nots that she rowed and rowed to try and
+get.  She could not have told why she left out that part, but already a
+vague thought had come to her--one that she was ashamed of, even though it
+was so vague, and it had to do with forget-me-nots.
+
+All the time she had been helping about the breakfast, and all the time
+after, when she and her stepmother were alone again, she kept saying to
+herself, "Shall I give her the money, shall I keep it?" and her heart
+would thrill, and then sink, and inside her she kept saying, "There is no
+harm in it?--It is all the same in the end."  And then, almost before
+she knew what she was doing, she had taken the easy, crooked, downhill
+path, with its rocks and thorns so cleverly hidden.
+
+"Mona, haven't you got any print frocks for mornings, and nice aprons?"
+
+Mona's thoughts came back suddenly from "Shall I?  Shall I not?" and the
+eyes with which she looked at her mother were half shamed, half
+frightened.  "Any--any what?" she stuttered.
+
+"Nice morning aprons and washing frocks?  I don't like to see shabby,
+soiled ones, even for only doing work in."
+
+"I hadn't thought about it," said Mona, with more interest.  "What else
+can one wear?  I nearly put on my best one, but I thought I hadn't
+better."
+
+"Oh, no, not your best."
+
+"Well, what else is there to wear?  Do you always have a print one like
+you've got on now?"
+
+"Yes, and big aprons, and sleeves.  Then one can tell when they are
+dirty."
+
+"Oh, I thought you put on that 'cause you were wearing out what you'd got
+left over.  You were in service, weren't you, before you married father?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I haven't got any print dresses.  I haven't even got a white one.
+I've two aprons like this," holding out a fanciful thing trimmed with
+lace.  "That's all, and I never saw any sleeves; I don't know what they
+are like."
+
+"I'll have to get you some as soon as father has his next big haul.
+You'd like to wear nice clean prints, if you'd got them, wouldn't you?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" eagerly.  But after a moment she added: "I do want a summer
+hat, though, and I don't s'pose I could have both?"  Her eyes sought her
+mother's face anxiously.  Lucy looked grave and a little troubled.
+"Wasn't that your summer hat that you had on yesterday?  It was a very
+pretty one.  I'm so fond of wreaths of daisies and grasses, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes--I was--I'm tired of them now.  I wore that hat a lot last summer."
+
+"Did you?  Well, you kept it very nicely.  I thought it was a new one, it
+looked so fresh and pretty."
+
+"I'd like to have one trimmed with forget-me-nots this year," Mona went on
+hurriedly, paying no heed to her mother's last remarks.
+
+"They are very pretty," agreed Lucy, absently.  In her mind she was
+wondering how she could find the money for all these different things.
+
+"I've got eighteenpence," broke in Mona, and the plunge was taken.
+She was keeping the eighteen-pence, though she knew it belonged either to
+her granny or to Lucy.  As soon as the words were spoken she almost wished
+them back again, but it was too late, and she went on her downhill way.
+
+"Mother, if you'll get me the hat, I'll buy the wreath myself.  They've
+got some lovely ones down at Tamlin's for one and five three.  There are
+some at one and 'leven three, but that's sixpence more, and I haven't got
+enough."
+
+"Very well, dear, we'll think about it.  It's early yet for summer hats."
+She was trying to think of things she could do without, that Mona might
+have her hat.  If she had been her own child, she would have told her
+plainly that she did not need, and could not have a new one, but it was
+not easy--as things were--to do that.
+
+Mona's heart leaped with joy.  Though she had known Lucy such a little
+while, she somehow felt that she could trust her not to forget.
+That when she said she would think about a thing, she would think about
+it, and already she saw with her mind's eye, the longed-for hat, the blue
+wreath, and the bow of ribbon, and her face beamed with happiness.
+
+"I can do without the aprons and the print frocks," she said, in the
+generosity of her heart, though it gave her a wrench.  But Lucy would not
+hear of that.  She had her own opinion about the grubby-looking blue
+serge, and the fancy apron, which were considered 'good enough' for
+mornings.
+
+"No, dear, you need them more than you need the hat.  If ever anyone
+should be clean it's when one is making beds, and cooking, and doing all
+that sort of thing, I think, don't you?"
+
+Mona had never given the subject a thought before.  In fact, she had done
+so little work while with her grandmother, and when she 'kept house'
+herself had cared so little about appearance or cleanliness, or anything,
+that it had never occurred to her that such things mattered.  But now that
+her stepmother appealed to her in this way she felt suddenly a sense of
+importance and a glow of interest.
+
+"Oh, yes! and I'll put my hair up, and always have on a nice white apron
+and a collar; they do look so pretty over pink frocks, don't they?"
+
+"Yes, and I must teach you how to wash and get them up."
+
+"Oh!"  Mona's interest grew suddenly lukewarm.  "I hate washing and
+ironing, don't you, mother?"
+
+"I like other kinds of work better, perhaps.  I think I should like the
+washing if I didn't get so tired with it.  I don't seem to have the
+strength to do it as I want it done.  It is lovely, though, to see things
+growing clean under one's hand, isn't it?"
+
+But Mona had never learnt to take pride in her work.  "I don't know,"
+she answered indifferently.  "I should never have things that were
+always wanting washing."
+
+Lucy rose to go about her morning's work.  "Oh, come now," she said,
+smiling, "I can't believe that.  Don't you think your little room looks
+prettier with the white vallance and quilt and the frill across the window
+than it would without?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" Mona agreed enthusiastically.  "But then I didn't have to wash
+them and iron them."
+
+"Well, I had to, and I enjoyed it, because I was thinking how nice they
+would make your room look, and how pleased you would be."
+
+"I don't see that.  If you were doing them for yourself, of course, you'd
+be pleased, but I can't see why anyone should be pleased about what other
+people may like."
+
+"Oh, Mona! can't you?"  Lucy looked amazed.  "Haven't you ever heard the
+saying, 'there is more pleasure in giving than in receiving'?"
+
+"Yes, I think I've heard it," said Mona, flippantly, "but I never saw any
+sense in it.  There's lots of things said that ain't a bit true."
+
+"This is true enough," said Lucy quietly, "and I hope you'll find it so
+for yourself, or you will miss half the pleasure in life."
+
+"Well, I don't believe in any of those old sayings," retorted Mona,
+rising too.  "Anyway, receiving's good enough for me!" and she laughed
+boisterously, thinking she had said something new and funny.
+
+A little cloud rested for a moment on Lucy's face, but only for a moment.
+"It isn't nice to hear you speak like that, Mona," she said quietly,
+a note of pain in her voice, "but I can't make myself believe yet that you
+are as selfish as you make out.  I believe," looking across at her
+stepdaughter with kindly, smiling eyes, "that you've got as warm a heart
+as anybody, really."
+
+And at the words and the look all the flippant, silly don't-careishness
+died out of Mona's thoughts and manner.
+
+Yet, presently, when in her own little room again, she opened her little
+blue purse and looked in it, a painful doubt arose in her mind.  It was
+nice to be considered good-hearted, but was she really so?
+And unselfish?  "If I was, wouldn't I make my last year's hat do?
+Wouldn't I give back the eighteenpence?"  What tiresome questions they
+were to come poking and pushing forward so persistently.  Anyhow, her
+mother knew now that she wanted a hat, and she knew that she had the
+money, and that she was going to spend it on herself--and yet she had
+called her unselfish!
+
+And downstairs, Lucy, with an anxious face, and a weight at her heart, was
+thinking to herself, "If Mona had lived much longer the idle, selfish life
+she has been living, her character would have been ruined, and there is so
+much that is good in her!  Poor child, poor Mona!  She has never had a
+fair chance yet to learn to show the best side of her, and I doubt if I'm
+the one to teach her.  I couldn't be hard with her if I tried, and being
+her stepmother will make things more difficult for me than for most.
+I couldn't live in the house with strife.  I must try other means, and,"
+she added softly, "ask God to help me."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+For a while, after that talk with her mother, Mona worked with a will.
+She swept, and scrubbed, and polished the stove and the windows and helped
+with the washing and ironing, until Lucy laughingly declared there would
+soon be nothing left for her to do.
+
+"That's just what I want," declared Mona.  "I want you not to have
+anything to do.  Perhaps I can't manage the cooking yet, but I'll learn to
+in time."  Excited by the novelty and change, and buoyed up by the
+prospect of her new hat, and new frocks and aprons too, she felt she could
+do anything, and could not do enough in return for all that was to be done
+for her, and, when Mona made up her mind to work, there were few who could
+outdo her.  She would go on until she was ready to drop.
+
+As the spring days grew warmer, she would get so exhausted that Lucy
+sometimes had to interfere peremptorily, and make her stop.  "Now you sit
+right down there, out of the draught, and don't you move a foot till I
+give you leave.  I will get you a nice cup of tea, and one of my new
+tarts; they're just this minute ready to come out of the oven."
+
+A straight screen, reaching from floor to ceiling, stood at one side of
+the door, to keep off some of the draught and to give some little privacy
+to those who used the kitchen.  Mona dried her hands and slipped
+gratefully into the chair that stood between the screen and the end of the
+table.
+
+"Oh, mother, this is nice," she sighed, her face radiant, though her
+shoulders drooped a little with tiredness.
+
+"Isn't it beautiful?  I love these sunny, quiet afternoons, when
+everything is peaceful, and the sea quite calm."  Her eyes looked beyond
+the little kitchen to the steep, sunny street outside, and beyond that
+again to where the blue sea heaved and glittered in the distance.
+The little window, as well as the door, stood wide open, letting in the
+scent of the sun-warmed wallflowers, and box, and boy's love.
+The bees buzzed contentedly over the beds.  One made his way in to Lucy's
+plants in the window.
+
+"I seem to smell the sea even through the scent of the flowers,"
+said Lucy.
+
+"I am sure I do.  I can't think how people can choose to live inland, can
+you, mother?"
+
+"I don't suppose they choose, they just live where God has seen fit to
+place them--where their work lies."
+
+"Well, I hope my work will always be in some place near the sea," said
+Mona decidedly.  "I don't think I could live away from it."
+
+Lucy smiled.  "I think you could, dear, if you made up your mind to it!
+I am sure you are not a coward."
+
+"I don't see that it has got anything to do with being a coward or not,"
+objected Mona.
+
+"But indeed it has.  If people can't face things they don't like without
+grumbling all the time they are cowards.  It is as cruel and cowardly to
+keep on grumbling and complaining about what you don't like as it is brave
+to face it and act so that people never guess what your real feelings are.
+Think of my mother now.  She loved living in a town, with all that there
+is to see and hear and interest one, and, above all, she loved London.
+It was home to her, and every other place was exile.  Yet when, after they
+had been married a couple of years, her husband made up his mind to live
+right away in the country, she never grumbled, though she must have felt
+lonely and miserable many a time.  Her mother, and all belonging to her,
+lived in London, and I know she had a perfect dread of the country.
+She was afraid of the loneliness.  Then my father tried his hand at
+farming and lost all his savings, and after that there was never a penny
+for anything but the barest of food and clothing, and sometimes not enough
+even for that.  Well, I am quite sure that no one ever heard a word of
+complaint from mother's lips, and when poor father reproached himself,
+as he did very often, with having brought ruin on her, she'd say,
+'Tom, I married you for better or worse, for richer or poorer.  I didn't
+marry you on condition you stayed always in one place and earned so much a
+week.'"
+
+"Mother didn't think she was being brave by always keeping a cheerful face
+and a happy heart--but father did, and I do, now.  I understand things
+better than I did.  I can see there's ever so much more bravery in denying
+yourself day after day what you want, and bearing willingly what you don't
+like, than there is in doing some big deed that you carry through on the
+spur of the moment."
+
+Mona sat silent, gazing out across the flowers in the window to the sky
+beyond.  "There's ever so much more bravery in denying yourself what you
+want."  The words rang in her head most annoyingly.  Could Lucy have
+spoken them on purpose?  No, Mona honestly did not think that, but she
+wished she had not uttered them.  She tried to think of something else,
+and, unconsciously, her mother helped her.
+
+"I want to go to see mother on Monday or Tuesday, if I can.  Do you think
+you'll mind being left here alone for a few hours?"
+
+Mona looked round at her with a smile.  "Why, of course not!  I used to
+spend hours here alone.  I'll find plenty to do while you're gone.
+I'll write to granny, for one thing.  I promised I would.  I could take up
+some of the weeds in the garden, too."
+
+She was eager to do something for her stepmother, so that she herself
+would feel more easy in her mind about the one thing she could not summon
+up courage to do.
+
+"Yes, if you'll do a little weeding it'll be fine.  I'm ashamed to see our
+path, and the wallflowers are nearly choked, but I daren't do it.
+I can't stoop so long."
+
+On Sunday Mona went to Sunday school for the first time, and was not a
+little pleased to find that her last year's hat, with the daisy wreath,
+was prettier than any other hat there.  With every admiring glance she
+caught directed at it her spirits rose.  She loved to feel that she was
+admired and envied.  It never entered her head that she made some of the
+children feel mortified and discontented with their own things.
+
+"If they think such a lot of this one, I wonder what they'll think of me
+having another new one soon!"  To conceal the elation in her face,
+she bent over her books, pretending to be absorbed in the lesson.
+Miss Lester, the teacher, looked at her now and again with grave,
+questioning eyes.  She was wondering anxiously if this little stranger was
+going to bring to an end the peace and contentment of the class.
+"Is she going to make my poor children realise how poor and shabby their
+clothes are, and fill their heads with thoughts of dress?"  She said
+nothing aloud, however.  She was only a little kinder, perhaps, to the
+most shabby of them all.
+
+Mona, who had been quite conscious of her teacher's glances, never doubted
+but that they were glances of admiration, and was, in consequence,
+extremely pleased.  She returned home quite elated by her Sunday
+afternoon's experiences.
+
+The next day, at about eleven, Lucy started on her three mile walk to her
+mother's.
+
+"Isn't it too far for you?" asked Mona, struck anew by her stepmother's
+fragile appearance.  "Hadn't you better put it off till you're stronger?"
+
+But Lucy shook her head.  "Oh, no, I shall manage it.  If I go to-day I
+shall be able to have a lift home in Mr. Lobb's cart.  It's his day.
+So I shall only have three miles to walk, and I do want to see mother.
+She has been so bad again."
+
+Mona did not try any more to stop her, but bustled around helping her to
+get ready.  "If you hadn't been going to drive back, I'd have come to meet
+you.  Never mind, I expect I'll be very busy," and she smiled to herself
+at the thought of all she was going to do, and of the nice clean kitchen
+and tempting meal she would have ready by the time Mr. Lobb's cart
+deposited Lucy at the door again.
+
+"Now, don't do too much, and tire yourself out, dear," said Lucy,
+warningly.  "There isn't really much that needs doing," but Mona smiled
+knowingly.
+
+As soon as Lucy had really started and was out of sight, she washed and
+put away the few cups and plates, and swept up the hearth.  Then, getting
+a little garden fork and an old mat, she sallied forth to the garden.
+There certainly were a good many weeds in the path, and, as the ground was
+trodden hard, they were not easy to remove.  Those in the flower beds were
+much easier.
+
+"I'll do the beds first," thought Mona.  "After all, that's the right way
+to begin."  So she dug away busily for some time, taking great care to dig
+deep, and lift the roots right out.  "While I am about it, I may as well
+turn all the earth over to make it nice and soft for the flowers.
+I don't know how they ever manage to grow in such hard, caked old stuff,
+poor little things."
+
+Here and there a 'poor little thing' came up root and all, as well as the
+weed, or instead of it, but Mona quickly put it back again, and here and
+there one had its roots torn away and loosened.  In fact, most of Lucy's
+plants found themselves wrenched from the cool, moist earth they loved,
+and their hold on life gone.  Presently Mona came to a large patch of
+forget-me-nots.  The flowers were not yet out, but there was plenty of
+promise for by and by.  It was not, though, the promise of buds, nor the
+plant itself which caused Mona to cease her work suddenly, and sit back on
+her heels, lost in thought.
+
+"I've a good mind to go down now this minute and get it," she exclaimed
+eagerly, "while mother's away.  Buying a hat won't seem much if she hasn't
+got to buy the trimmings.  And--and if--if I don't get the wreath,
+Mr. Tamlin may--may sell it before mother goes there."
+
+This fear made her spring from her knees.  Without any further hesitation,
+she rushed, into the house, washed and tidied herself, got her blue purse
+from the drawer in which it was still hidden, and in ten minutes from the
+moment the thought first struck her she was hurrying down the street,
+leaving the mat and the fork where she had been using them.  But she could
+think of nothing.  Indeed, she could scarcely breathe for excitement until
+she reached Tamlin's shop, and, to her enormous relief, saw the blue
+wreaths still hanging there.
+
+"Of course, it is much the best way to buy it now and take it home,"
+Mona argued with herself.  "It will only get dirty and faded where it is."
+
+She felt a little nervous at entering the big shop by herself, especially
+as she seemed to be the only customer, and the attendants had no one else
+at whom to stare.  She went up to the one who had the pleasantest smile
+and looked the least grand of them all.
+
+"Forget-me-nots?  Oh, yes, dear, we have some lovely flowers this season,
+all new in.  Perhaps you'd prefer roses.  We have some beautiful roses,
+pink, red, yellow, and white ones--and wreaths, we have some sweet
+wreaths, moss and rose buds, and sweet peas and grasses."  She proceeded
+to drag out great boxes full of roses of all shapes and kinds.
+Mona looked at them without interest.  "No, thank you I want
+forget-me-nots."
+
+"Oh, well, there's no harm in looking at the others, is there?  I've got
+some sweet marg'rites too.  I'll show you.  P'raps you'll change your mind
+when you see them.  Blue ties you so, doesn't it?"
+
+"I've got daisies on a hat already.  I'm tired of them.  I want something
+different."
+
+"Of course, we all like a change, don't we?  I'll show you a wreath--
+perfectly sweet it is, apple-blossom and leaves; it might be real, it's so
+perfect."  And away she went again for another box.
+
+Mona felt as though her eighteenpence was shrivelling smaller and smaller.
+It seemed such a ridiculously small sum to have come shopping with, and
+she wished she had never done so.  The girl dropped a huge box on the
+counter, and whipped the cover off.  She was panting a little from the
+weight of it.  Mona longed to sink out of sight, she was so ashamed of the
+trouble she was giving, and only eighteenpence to spend after all!
+
+"There, isn't that sweet, and only three and eleven three."
+
+But Mona was by this time feeling so ashamed and bothered and
+uncomfortable, she would not bring herself to look at the flowers.
+"Yes, thank you, it's very pretty, but--but--it's too dear--and--I want
+forget-me-nots."
+
+Then, summoning up all the courage she had left,  "You've got some wreaths
+for one and fivepence three-farthings; it's one of those I want."
+
+The girl's face changed, and her manner too.  "Oh, it's one of the cheap
+wreaths you want, like we've got in the window," and from another box she
+dragged out one of the kind Mona had gazed at so longingly, and, without
+handing it to her to look at, popped it into a bag, screwed up the top,
+and pushed it across the counter.  "One and five three," she snapped
+rudely, and, while Mona was extracting her eighteenpence from her purse,
+she turned to another attendant who had been standing looking on and
+listening all the time.
+
+"Miss Jones, dear, will you help me put all these boxes away."
+
+Mona noticed the sneer in her voice, the glances the two exchanged.
+She saw, too, Miss Jones's pitying smile and toss of her head, and she
+walked out of the shop with burning cheeks and a bursting heart.
+She longed passionately to throw down the wreath she carried and trample
+on it--and as for Tamlin's shop!  She felt that nothing would ever induce
+her to set foot inside it again.
+
+Poor Mona, as she hurried up the street with her longed-for treasure--now
+detestable in her eyes--all the sunshine and happiness seemed to have gone
+out of her days.  She went along quickly, with her head down.  She felt
+she did not want to see or speak to anyone just then.  She hurried through
+the garden, where the patch of newly-turned earth was already drying under
+the kiss of the sun, and the wallflowers were beginning to droop, but she
+saw nothing of it all.  She only wanted to get inside and shut and bolt
+the door, and be alone with herself and her anger.
+
+"There!" she cried passionately, flinging the wreath across the kitchen,
+"take that! I hate you--I hate the sight of you!"  She would have cried,
+but that she had made up her mind that she would not.  "I'll never wear
+the hateful thing--I couldn't!  If I was to meet that girl when I'd got it
+on I--I'd never get over it!  And there's all my money gone; wasted, and--
+and----"  At last the tears did come, in spite of her, and Mona's heart
+felt relieved.
+
+She picked out the paper bag from inside the fender, and, carrying it
+upstairs, thrust it inside the lid of her box.  "There! and I hope I'll
+never see the old thing ever any more, and then, p'raps, in time I'll
+forget all about it."
+
+As she went down the stairs again to the kitchen she remembered that her
+father would be home in a few minutes to his dinner, and that she had to
+boil some potatoes.  "Oh, dear--I wish--I wish----"  But what was the use
+of wishing!  She had the forget-me-nots she had so longed for--and what
+was the result!
+
+"I'll never, never wish for anything again," she thought ruefully,
+"but I suppose that wishing you'd got something, and wishing you
+hadn't forgot something, are two different things, though both make you
+feel miserable," she added gloomily.
+
+For a moment she sat, overwhelmed by all that she had done and had left
+undone.  The emptiness and silence of the house brought to her a sense of
+loneliness.  The street outside was empty and silent too, except for two
+old women who walked by with heavy, dragging steps.  One of the two was
+talking in a patient, pathetic voice, but loudly, for her companion was
+deaf.
+
+"There's no cure for trouble like work, I know that.  I've had more'n my
+share of trouble, and if it hadn't been that I'd got the children to care
+for, and my work cut out to get 'em bread to eat, I'd have give in;
+I couldn't have borne all I've had to bear----"
+
+The words reached Mona distinctly through the silence.  She rose to her
+feet.  "P'raps work'll help me to bear mine," she thought bitterly.
+"When my man and my two boys was drowned that winter, I'd have gone out of
+my mind if I hadn't had to work to keep a home for the others----"
+The voices died away in the distance, and Mona's bitterness died away too.
+
+"Her man, and her two boys--three of them dead, all drowned in one day--
+oh, how awful!  How awful!"  Mona's face blanched at the thought of the
+tragedy.  The very calmness with which it was told made it seem worse,
+more real, more inevitable.  Even the sunshine and peace about her made it
+seem more awful.  Compared with such a trouble, her own was too paltry.
+It was not a trouble at all.  She felt ashamed of herself for the fuss she
+had been making, and without more ado she bustled round to such good
+purpose that when her father returned to his meal she had it all cooked
+and ready to put on the table.
+
+"That's a good maid," he said, encouragingly.  "Why, you've grown a
+reg'lar handy little woman.  You'll be a grand help to your poor mother."
+
+"I do want to be," said Mona, but she did not feel as confident about it
+as her father did.  "I'm going to have everything ready for her by the
+time she gets home."
+
+"That's right, I shan't be home till morning, most likely, so you'll have
+to take care of her.  She'll be fairly tired out, what with walking three
+miles in the sun, and then being rattled about in Mr. Lobb's old cart.
+The roads ain't fit for a horse to travel over."
+
+"I should think she'd be here about six, shouldn't she, father?"
+
+"Yes, that's about the old man's time, but there's no reckoning on him for
+certain.  He may have to go a mile or more out of his way, just for one
+customer."
+
+Apparently that was what he had to do that day, for six came and went, and
+seven o'clock had struck, and darkness had fallen before the cart drew up
+at Cliff Cottage, and Lucy clambered stiffly down from her hard,
+uncomfortable seat.
+
+She was tired out and chilly, but at the sound of the wheels the cottage
+door was flung open, letting out a wide stream of cheerfulness, which made
+her heart glow and drove her weariness away.  Inside, the home all was
+neat and cosy, the fire burned brightly, and the table was laid ready
+for a meal.  Lucy drew a deep breath of happiness and relief.
+
+"Oh, it is nice to get home again," she sighed contentedly, "and most of
+all to find someone waiting for you, Mona dear."
+
+And Mona's heart danced with pleasure and happy pride.  She felt well
+repaid for all she had done.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+When Mona woke the next morning she felt vaguely that something was
+missing.  "Why it's the smell of the wallflowers!" she cried, after lying
+for some minutes wondering what it could be.  But in her new desire to get
+dressed and downstairs early she did not give the matter another thought.
+
+Lucy, coming down later, stepped to the door for a moment to breathe in
+the sunshine and sweet morning air.  "Oh," she cried, and her voice rang
+out sharply, full of dismay, "Oh, Mona, come quick.  Whatever has happened
+to our wallflowers!  Why, look at them!  They are all dead!  Oh, the poor
+things!  Someone must have pulled them up in sheer wickedness!  Isn't it
+cruel?  Isn't it shameful!"
+
+Mona, rushing to the door to look, found Lucy on her knees by the dying
+plants, the tears dropping from her eyes.  Only yesterday they were so
+happy and so beautiful, a rich carpet of brown, gold, tawny, and crimson,
+all glowing in the sunshine, and filling the air with their glorious
+scent--and now!  Oh, it was pitiful, pitiful.
+
+"I'll fill a tub with water and plunge them all in," cried Lucy,
+frantically collecting her poor favourites--then suddenly she dropped
+them.  "No, no, I won't, I'll bury them out of sight.  I could never give
+them new life.  Oh, who could have been so wicked?"
+
+Mona was standing beside her, white-faced and silent.  At her mother's
+last question, she opened her lips for the first time.  "I--I did it,"
+she gasped in a horrified voice.  "I--didn't know, I must have done it
+when I was weeding.  Oh, mother, I am so sorry.  What can I do--oh,
+what can I do!"
+
+"You!  Oh, Mona!"  But at the sight of Mona's distress Lucy forgot her
+own.
+
+"Never mind.  It can't be helped.  'Twas an accident, of course, and no
+one can prevent accidents.  Don't fret about it, dear.  Of course,
+you wouldn't have hurt them if you'd known what you were doing!"
+
+But her words failed to comfort Mona, for in her inmost heart she knew
+that she should have known better, that she could have helped it.
+It was just carelessness again.
+
+"They wouldn't have lasted more than a week or two longer, I expect,"
+added Lucy, consolingly, trying to comfort herself as well as Mona.
+"Now, we'll get this bed ready for the ten-weeks stocks.  It will do the
+ground good to rest a bit.  I daresay the stocks will be all the finer for
+it later on."  But still Mona was not consoled.
+
+"If I hadn't run away and left them to go and buy that hateful wreath,"
+she was thinking.  "If only I had remembered to press the earth tight
+round them again--if--if only I'd been more careful when I was weeding,
+and--if, if, if!  It's all ifs with me!"  Aloud, she said bitterly,
+"I only seem to do harm to everything I touch.  I'd better give up!
+If I don't do anything, p'raps I shan't do mischief."
+
+Lucy laughed.  "Poor old Paddy," she cried.  "Why, you couldn't live and
+not do anything.  Every minute of your life you are doing something, and
+when you are doing what you call 'nothing' you will be doing mischief,
+if it's only in setting a bad example.  And you can work splendidly if you
+like, Mona, and you _do_ like, I know.  I shan't forget for a long while
+how nice you'd got everything by the time I came home last night, and how
+early you got up this morning."
+
+Mona's face brightened.
+
+"You've got to learn to think, that's all, dear; and to remember to finish
+off one thing before you leave it to go to another.  It's just the want of
+that that lies at the root of most of your trouble."
+
+A sound of many feet hurrying along the street and of shouting voices made
+Lucy break off suddenly, and sent them both running to the gate.
+
+"Boats are in sight, missis.  Fine catch!" called one and another as they
+hurried along.
+
+Lucy and Mona looked at each other with glad relief in their eyes.
+There had been no real cause for anxiety because the little fishing fleet
+had not been home at dawn, yet now they knew that they had been a little
+bit anxious, Lucy especially, and their pleasure was all the greater.
+For a moment Mona, in her excitement, was for following the rest to the
+quay where the fish would be landed.  It was so exciting, such fun, to be
+in all the bustle of the unloading, and the selling--and to know that for
+a time, at any rate, money would not be scarce, and rent and food and
+firing would be secure.
+
+Mona loved nothing better than such mornings as this--but her first step
+was her last.  "I won't remember 'too late' this time," she said to
+herself determinedly, and turning, she made her way quickly into the
+house.  There would be more than enough to do to get ready.  There would
+be hot water, dry clothes, and a hot breakfast to get for the tired, cold,
+famished father.
+
+"Now you sit down, mother, and stoke the fire, I'll see to the rest," and
+for the next hour she flew around, doing one thing after another, and as
+deftly as a woman.  She was so busy and so happy she forgot all about the
+beach and the busy scene there, the excitement, and the fun.
+
+But before Lucy did any 'stoking' she went out with a rake and smoothed
+over the rough earth of the empty wallflower bed.  "If it's looking tidy,
+perhaps he won't notice anything's wrong when he first comes home,"
+she thought.  "When he's less tired he'll be able to bear the
+disappointment better."  She knew that if he missed his flowers one of his
+chief pleasures in his homecoming would be gone, and she almost dreaded to
+hear the sound of his footsteps because of the disappointment in store for
+him.  Because she could not bear to see it, she stayed in the kitchen,
+and only Mona went out to meet him.  Lucy heard his loved voice, hoarse
+and tired, but cheerful still.  "Hullo, my girl!" he cried, "how's mother,
+and how 'ave 'ee got on?  I was 'fraid she'd be troubling.  Hullo!  Why,
+what's happened to our wallflowers?"
+
+At the sound of the dismay in his voice, Lucy had to go out.  "Poor Mona,"
+she thought, "it's hard on her!  Why, father!" she cried brightly,
+standing in the doorway with a glad face and happy welcome.  "We're so
+glad to see you at last.  Make haste in, you must be tired to death, and
+cold through and through.  Mona's got everything ready for you, as nice as
+can be.  She's worked hard since we heard the boats were come.  We've all
+got good appetites for our breakfast, I guess."
+
+Then, in his pleasure at seeing his wife and child again, Peter Carne
+forgot all about his flowers.  Putting his arms around them both, he gave
+them each a hearty kiss, and all went in together.  "I ain't hardly fit
+to," he said, laughing, "but you're looking as fresh and sweet as two
+daisies this morning."
+
+Diving his hand deep into his pocket, he drew out a handful of gold and
+silver.  "Here, mother, here's something you'll be glad of!  Now, Mona, my
+girl," as he dropped into his arm-chair, "where's my old slippers?"
+
+Mona picked them up from the fender, where they had been warming, and,
+kneeling down, she pulled off his heavy boots.  Once more she was filled
+with the feeling that if she could only do something to make up for the
+harm she had done she would not feel so bad.
+
+"Thank'ee, little maid.  Oh, it's good to be home again!"  He leaned back
+and stretched his tired limbs with a sigh of deep content.  "But I mustn't
+stop here, I must go and have a wash, and change into dry things before I
+have my breakfast.  I can tell you, I'm more than a bit hungry.  When I've
+had it I've got to go down and clean out the boat."
+
+"Oh, not till you've had a few hours' sleep," coaxed Lucy.  "You must have
+some rest, father.  I've a good mind to turn the key on you."
+
+Her husband laughed too.  "There's no need for locks and keys to-day,"
+he said, ruefully.  "If I was to start out I believe I'd have to lie down
+in the road and have a nap before I got to the bottom of the street.
+I'll feel better when I've had a wash."
+
+As he stumbled out of the kitchen Lucy picked up the coins lying on the
+table, and put them in a little locked box in the cupboard.  Mona, coming
+back into the kitchen from putting her father's sea-boots away, saw that
+there seemed to be quite a large sum.
+
+"Shall I have my new hat?" she wondered eagerly.  "There's plenty of money
+now."  But Lucy only said, "I'll have to get wool to make some new
+stockings for your father, and a jersey, and I'll have to go to Baymouth
+to get it.  Mr. Tamlin doesn't keep the right sort.  Can you knit
+stockings, Mona?"
+
+"Ye--es, but I hate----"  She drew herself up sharply.  "Yes, I can, but
+I'd rather scrub, or sweep, or--or anything."
+
+"Never mind, I'll make them.  I'm fond of all that kind of work.
+I'll have to be quick about the jersey, for I see that one he's got on has
+a great hole in the elbow, and he's only got his best one besides.
+I'd better go to Baymouth on Wednesday.  It won't do to put it off."
+
+"I wish I could take you with me," she said to Mona regretfully when the
+Wednesday came, and she was getting ready to start.  "I would, only your
+father thinks he'll be back about tea-time, and he'll need a hot meal when
+he comes.  Never mind, dear, you shall go next time."
+
+"Oh--h--that's all right." Mona tried to speak cheerfully, but neither
+face nor voice looked or sounded all right!  The thought uppermost in her
+mind was that there was no chance of her having her new hat.  Her mother
+could not get that unless she was there to try it on.
+
+She saw her mother off, and she did try to be pleasant, but she could not
+help a little aggrieved feeling at her heart.
+
+"Granny would have bought me one before now," she said to herself.
+She did really want not to have such thoughts.  She still felt mean and
+uncomfortable about the wreath, and in her heart she knew that her
+stepmother was kinder to her than she deserved.
+
+When she had done the few things she had to do, and had had her dinner,
+and changed her frock, she went out into the garden.  It would be less
+lonely there, she thought, and she could weed the path a little.
+She would never touch one of the flower beds again!  Before she had been
+out there long, Millie Higgins came down the hill.  At the sight of Mona,
+Millie drew up.  "So you ain't gone to Baymouth too?" she said, leaning
+over the low stone wall, and evidently prepared for a talk.  "I saw your
+mother starting off.  Why didn't she take you with her?  You'd have liked
+to have gone, wouldn't you?"
+
+"Yes," Mona admitted.
+
+"Well, why didn't you?"
+
+"Somebody had to be here to look after father.  He'll be home before
+mother gets back."
+
+Millie Higgins snorted sarcastically.  "Very nice for some people to be
+able to go off and enjoy themselves and leave others to look after things
+for them!  If I were you I'd say I'd like to go too."
+
+Mona resented Millie's tone.  A sense of fairness rose within her too.
+"If I'd said I wanted to go, I daresay I could have gone," she retorted
+coldly.  "I'm going another time."
+
+"Oh, are you?  Well, that's all right as long as you are satisfied,"
+meaningly.  "Good-bye," and with a nod Millie took herself off.
+But before she had gone more than a few paces she was back again.
+
+"Come on out and play for a bit, won't you?"
+
+"I'd like to," Mona hesitated, "but I don't know for certain what time
+father'll get back."
+
+"Well, I do!  I know they won't be home yet awhile.  They'll wait till the
+tide serves.  Come along, Mona, you might as well come out and play for
+half an hour as stick moping here.  You might spend all your life waiting
+about for the old boats to come in, and never have a bit of pleasure if
+you don't take it when you can.  We'll go down to the quay, then you'll be
+able to see the boats coming.  After they're in sight there'll be heaps of
+time to run home and get things ready."
+
+The temptation was great, too great.  Mona loved the quay, and the life
+and cheerfulness there.  Towards evening all the children in the place
+congregated there, playing 'Last touch,' 'Hop-Scotch,' and all the rest of
+the games they loved, to a chorus of shouts, and screams, and laughter.
+Then there was the sea to look at too, so beautiful and grand, and
+awe-inspiring in the fading light.  Oh, how dearly she loved it all!
+
+In her ears Millie's words still rang: "You might spend all your life
+waiting about for the old boats, and never have a bit of pleasure, if you
+don't take it when you can."
+
+"Wait a minute," she said eagerly, "I'll just put some coal on the fire
+and get my hat."
+
+She banked up a good fire, unhung her hat, and, pulling the door after
+her, ran out to Millie again, "I'm ready now," she said excitedly.
+
+When they arrived at the quay they received a very warm welcome; they were
+just in time to take part in a game of 'Prisoners.'  After that they had
+one of 'Tip,' and one or two of 'Hop-Scotch,' then 'Prisoners' again; and
+how many more Mona could never remember, for she had lost count of time,
+and everything but the fun, until she was suddenly brought to her senses
+by a man's voice saying, "Well, it's time they were in, the clock struck
+seven ten minutes agone."
+
+"Seven!" Mona was thunderstruck.  "Did you say seven?" she gasped, and
+scarcely waiting for an answer she took to her heels and tore up the
+street to her home.  Her mind was full of troubled thoughts.  The fire
+would be out, the house all in darkness.  She had only pulled the front
+door behind her, she had not locked it.  Oh, dear! what a number of things
+she had left undone!  What a muddle she had made of things.  When, as she
+drew near the house, she saw a light shining from the kitchen window, her
+heart sank lower than ever it had done before.
+
+"Father must have come!  Oh! and me not there, and--and nothing ready.
+Oh, I wouldn't have had it happen for anything."  She rushed up to the
+house so fast and burst into the kitchen so violently that her mother, who
+was sitting in her chair, apparently lost in thought, sprang up in alarm.
+
+"Oh, Mona! it's you!  You frightened me so, child.  Where's your father,"
+she asked anxiously.  "Haven't you seen him?"
+
+"No, he hasn't come yet."
+
+Lucy's face grew as white as a lily.  Her eyes were full of terror, which
+always haunted her.  "P'raps he came home while you were out, and went out
+again when he found the house empty."
+
+"He couldn't.  I've been on the quay all the time.  The boats couldn't
+have come in without my seeing them.  I was waiting for him.  Everybody
+was saying how late they were.  They couldn't think why."
+
+"Yes--they are dreadfully late--but I--I didn't think you'd have gone out
+and left the house while I was away," said Lucy with gentle reproach.
+"But, as you did, you should have locked the door behind you.  I s'pose
+Mr. King called before you left?"
+
+"He hasn't been," faltered Mona, her heart giving a great throb.  She had
+entirely forgotten that the landlord's agent was coming for his rent that
+afternoon.  "The money's on the dresser.  I put it there."
+
+"Is it? I couldn't see it.  I looked for it at once when I found the door
+wide open and nobody here."
+
+"Open!  I shut it after me.  I didn't lock it, but I pulled the door fast
+after me.  You can't have looked in the right place, mother.  I put it by
+the brown jug."  And, never doubting but that her mother had overlooked
+it, Mona searched the dressers herself.  But there was no money on them,
+not even a farthing for the baker.  "But I put it there!  I put it there
+myself!" she kept repeating more and more frantically.  She got upon a
+chair and searched every inch of every shelf, and turned every jug and cup
+upside down.  "It _must_ be somewhere."
+
+"Yes, somewhere!  But it isn't here, and it isn't in Mr. King's pocket."
+Poor Lucy sank back in her chair looking ready to faint.  Five shillings
+meant much to her.  It was so horrible, too, to feel that a thief had been
+in, and had perhaps gone all over the house.  Who could say what more he
+had taken, or what mischief he had done.
+
+She was disappointed also in her trust in Mona, and she was tired and
+faint from want of food.  All her pleasure in her day and in her
+homecoming was gone, changed to worry and weariness and disappointment.
+
+"But who can have been so wicked as to take it!" cried Mona passionately.
+"Nobody had any right to open our door and come into our house.
+It's hard to think one can't go out for a few minutes but what somebody
+must come and act dishonest----"
+
+"We can't talk about others not doing right if we don't do right
+ourselves!  Your father and I left you here in charge, and you undertook
+the charge.  We trusted you."
+
+Mona got down from the chair.  "It's very hard if I can't ever go
+anywhere--I only went for a little while.  Millie said father wouldn't be
+here--the boats weren't in sight.  And you see she was right!  They are
+ever so late."
+
+"Well, I suppose we are all made differently, but I couldn't have played
+games knowing that the boats ought to have been in, and not knowing what
+might have happened to my father."
+
+"I get tired of always sticking around, waiting on the old boats.  I never
+thought of there being any danger, they're so often late.  It was only
+towards the end that people came down looking for them and wondering."
+
+Lucy groaned.  "Well, I'm thankful you don't suffer as I do, child.
+P'raps I'm foolish, but I'm terrified of the sea, and I never get
+accustomed to the danger of it."  And she looked so white and wan, Mona's
+heart was touched, and some of the sullenness died out of her face and
+voice.
+
+"I never thought--there was only a little wind," she began, when a sharp
+rap at the door interrupted her, then the latch was raised, and the door
+opened briskly.  "Boats are in sight, Mrs. Carne! and all's well!" cried a
+voice cheerfully, and old Job Maunders popped his grizzled head round the
+screen.  "I thought you might be troubling, ma'am, so I just popped 'fore
+to tell 'ee.  I'm off down to see if I can lend a hand."
+
+And before Lucy could thank him, the kindly old man was hurrying away
+through the garden and down the street.
+
+But what changed feelings he had left behind him!  Tired though she was,
+Lucy was on her feet in a moment and her face radiant.  "Come, dear, we've
+got to bustle round now for a bit.  You run and get some sticks and make a
+good fire, and I'll get out his clean, dry things.  Then while I'm cooking
+the supper you can be laying the cloth."
+
+While she spoke she was gathering up a lot of parcels which were lying
+scattered over the table.
+
+"I'm longing to show you what I've bought."
+
+"Yes," thought Mona, "and I am longing to see!"
+
+"I wonder if you'll like what I've chosen for you."
+
+"I wonder, too!" thought Mona.
+
+"We'll have a good look at everything when we've had supper.  Then we
+needn't be hurrying and scurrying all the time, and there'll be more
+room."
+
+In spite of the upset to her feelings, Mona was interested, but all real
+pleasure was gone.  She knew that probably there was something for her in
+one of the fat parcels, but the thought of taking any more kindness from
+Lucy, to whom she had behaved so badly, was painful.  She wanted, instead,
+to make amends to replace the lost five shillings.  She longed to have the
+money to pay back, but she had not one penny!  All she could do was to
+work, and to go without things she wanted.  She could do the first better
+than the last, and she would rather.  She did not really mind working,
+but she did mind denying herself things she had set her heart on.
+"But I will, I will," she thought to herself while the shock of the theft
+was still on her.
+
+Before very long the fire was burning brightly, the kettle was beginning
+to sing, and Lucy was cooking the sausages and bacon she had brought back
+with her from Baymouth.  The savoury smell of them wafted through the
+kitchen and reached the hungry, weary man trudging heavily up the garden.
+Then Mona caught the sound of his coming, and rushed out, while Lucy stood
+behind her with radiant face and glowing eyes.
+
+"You must be chilled to the bone, and dead beat," she cried.  "Ain't you,
+father?"
+
+"I thought I was--but I ain't now.  It's worth everything just for the
+pleasure of coming back to a home like mine, my girl."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Mona was growing more and more impatient.  "Grown-ups do take so long over
+everything," she thought irritably.  "If it gets much later mother will
+say, 'there isn't time to open the parcels to-night, we must wait till
+morning!'  Oh, dear!"
+
+It was long past eight before they had sat down to their meal, and then,
+her father and mother both being very tired, they took it in such a
+leisurely fashion that Mona thought they never would have finished.
+They, of course, were glad to sit still and talk of their day's doings,
+but Mona, as soon as her hunger was satisfied, was simply longing to be up
+and examining the contents of the tempting-looking parcels which had
+waited so long on the side-table.
+
+She fidgeted with her knife and fork, she rattled her cup and shuffled
+her feet, but still her father went on describing his adventures,
+and still Lucy sat listening eagerly.  To them this was the happiest and
+most restful time of the day.  The day's work was done, duty would not
+call to them again until morning.  The kitchen was warm and comfortable.
+It was just the right time for a leisurely talk, but Mona did not realise
+this.
+
+At last, disturbed by her restlessness, her mother and father broke off
+their talk and got up from the table.
+
+"Now you have a pipe, father, while Mona and I put away the supper things.
+After that I'll be able to sit down and hear the rest of it.  I expect
+Mona's tired and wants to be off to bed."
+
+"No, I am not," said Mona sharply.  In her heart she grumbled, "Work,
+work, always work--never a bit of fun."  She had forgotten the hours she
+had spent playing on the quay only a little while before.  She would not
+remind her mother of the parcels, but sulked because she had forgotten
+them.  Lucy looked at her anxiously now and again, puzzled to know why her
+mood had changed so suddenly.  She was still puzzling over the matter,
+when, in putting something back on the side-table, she saw the pile of
+parcels.
+
+"Why, Mona," she cried, "I'd forgot all about my shopping, and the things
+I was going to show you.  Make haste and dry your hands and come and look.
+We'll be able to have a nice, quiet little time now before we go to bed!"
+
+Mona's face changed at once, and her whole manner too.  It did not take
+her long after that to finish up and be ready.
+
+"That," said Lucy, putting one big roll aside, "that's the blue wool for
+father.  We needn't open that now.  Oh, and this, is for you, dear,"
+pushing a big box towards Mona.  "I hope you will like it.  I thought it
+sweetly pretty.  Directly I saw it I thought to myself, now that'll just
+suit our Mona!  I seemed to see you wearing it."
+
+Mona's heart beat faster, her cheeks grew rosy with excitement.
+"Whatever can it be!" she wondered, and her fingers trembled so with
+eagerness, she was ever so long untying the string.
+
+"If you don't like it," went on Lucy, busy untying the knots of another
+parcel, "Mr. Phillips promised he'd change it, if it wasn't damaged at
+all."
+
+How tantalising Lucy was!  Whatever could it be!  Then at last the knot
+gave way, and Mona lifted the lid, and pushed the silver paper aside.
+"Oh, mother!"  She clapped her hands in a rapture, her eyes sparkled with
+joy.  "Oh, mother!  It's--it's lovely.  I didn't know, I didn't think you
+could get me a hat to-day--oh--h!"
+
+"Then you like it?"
+
+"It's lovely!"
+
+"Try it on, and let us see if it suits you.  That's the chief thing, isn't
+it?"  Lucy tried to look grave, but she was nearly as excited and
+delighted as Mona herself.
+
+Mona put it on and looked at her mother with shy questioning.  She hoped
+so much that it did suit her, for she longed to keep it.
+
+Lucy gazed at her critically from all sides, then she nodded with grave
+approval.  "Yes, I never saw you in one that suited you better, to my
+mind.  Go and see for yourself--but wait a minute," as Mona was hurrying
+away to the scullery, where hung a little mirror about a foot square.
+"Don't treat that poor box so badly," as she rescued it from the floor,
+"there's something else in amongst all that paper.  Look again."
+
+Mona opened the box again, but her heart had sunk suddenly.  Yes, there it
+was, the very thing she had dreaded to see--a wreath of blue
+forget-me-nots and soft green leaves!  There was a piece of black ribbon
+velvet too, to make the whole complete.
+
+It was a charming wreath.  Compared with it, her own purchase seemed poor
+and common.
+
+Mona held it in her hand, gazing at it with lowered lids.  Then suddenly
+her eyes filled with tears.  "Oh, mother," she stammered brokenly.
+There was such real pain in her voice that Lucy looked at her in anxious
+surprise.  "Don't you like it?" she asked, disappointed.  She had hoped
+for a rapturous outburst of pleasure, and, instead, Mona stood silent,
+embarrassed, evidently on the verge of tears.
+
+"Don't you like it, dear?" she asked again.  "I thought you would have
+been pleased.  The blue on that silvery white straw looks so pretty,
+I think.  Don't you?"
+
+Mona nodded, but did not speak.  "Mona, dear, what is it?  Tell me what's
+wrong?  I am sure there is something.  Perhaps I can help you, if I know."
+
+Tears had been near Mona's eyes for some moments, and the kindness in her
+mother's face and voice broke down all restraints.  Tossing the hat one
+way and the wreath another, Mona ran into Lucy's arms, sobbing bitterly.
+
+"Oh--I must tell.  I can't keep it in any longer!  Oh, mother, I've got a
+wreath already, I bought it myself, and I hate it--oh, I hate it!
+I--I can't tell you how bad I've felt about it ever since I got it!"
+And then the whole of the miserable story came pouring out.  She kept
+nothing back.  She told of her keeping the eighteenpence, of her dream, of
+her mortification in the shop.  "And--and it seemed as if my dream came
+true," she said, when presently the worst was told.  "I was so crazy for
+the forget-me-nots that I couldn't get, that I never thought anything of
+the wallflowers close beside me, and then, when I had got forget-me-nots,
+I was disappointed; and when I lost the wallflowers, I began to think all
+the world of them!"
+
+Lucy, with her head resting against Mona's, as she held her in her arms,
+smiled sadly.  "It's the same with all of us, dear.  We're so busy looking
+into our neighbour's garden patch, envying them what they've got, that we
+don't see what we've got in our own, and, as like as not, trample it down
+with reaching up to look over the wall, and lose it altogether.  Now, pick
+up your hat and your flowers and try to get all the pleasure you can out
+of them.  I hoped they'd have brought you such a lot.  Or would you rather
+change the wreath for another?"
+
+But Mona would not hear of that.  "Oh, no, I wanted blue forget-me-nots,
+and these are lovely.  I'd rather have them than anything, thank you,
+mother."
+
+"You couldn't have anything prettier," said Peter Carne, rousing suddenly
+from his nap.
+
+Lucy laughed.  "Now, father, whatever do you know about it!  You go to
+sleep again.  Mona and I are talking about finery."  She was busy undoing
+a large parcel of drapery.  "I've got the print here for your frocks,"
+she turned to Mona again.  "I'd have liked to have had both dark blue,
+but I thought you might fancy a pink one, so I got stuff for one of each.
+There, do you like them?"
+
+"Like them!  Oh, mother, are they really both for me!  And what pretty
+buttons!  Are those for me, too?"
+
+"Yes, it's all for you, dear."  Lucy's voice had begun to sound tired and
+faint.  She had had a long, wearying day, and the parcels had been heavy.
+Mona, though, did not notice anything.  She was busy arranging the wreath
+round the crown of her hat.  "If I only had a white dress, wouldn't it
+look nice with this!  Oh, I'd love to have a white dress.  If I'd stayed
+with granny, she was going to get me one this summer."
+
+Her father turned and looked across at them.  "What've you bought for
+yourself, Lucy, my girl?" he asked suddenly.  Lucy looked up in surprise.
+"I--oh, I didn't want anything, father," she said, somewhat embarrassed.
+"I don't need anything new this summer.  My dove-colour merino is as good
+as it was the day I bought it.  It seems foolish to--to buy new when one
+doesn't need it," she added hastily.  "It is only a trouble to keep."
+
+"Do you mean the one you were married in?" asked Peter shrewdly.
+
+Lucy nodded.  "Yes--the one you liked.  I'll get myself a new pair of
+gloves.  I can get those at Tamlin's."
+
+"Um!" There was a deal of meaning in Peter Carne's 'Um.'  "Well, you'll
+never get one that's prettier, but you ought to have something new and
+nice, too.  And what about your medicine?"
+
+"Oh!"  Lucy coloured.  "Oh, I--I'm trying to do without it.  It isn't good
+for anyone to be taking it too often."
+
+"That's what granny always says," chimed in Mona.  "She says if people get
+into the way of taking medicine they get to think they can't do without
+it."
+
+Lucy's pale cheeks flushed pink, and a hurt look crept into her eyes.
+Her husband was deeply annoyed, and showed it.  "I think, my girl,"
+he said, in a sterner voice than Mona had ever heard before, "you'd better
+wait to offer your opinion until you are old enough to know what you are
+talking about.  You are more than old enough, though, to know that it's
+wrong to repeat what's said before you.  After all your mother's bought
+for you, too, I'd have thought," he broke off, for Mona's eyes were once
+more full of tears.  Never in her life before had her father spoken to her
+so severely.
+
+"I--I didn't mean any harm," she stammered, apologetically.
+
+"Then you should learn to think, and not say things that may do harm.
+If what's on your tongue to say is likely to hurt anybody's feelings, or
+to make mischief, then don't let it slip past your tongue.  You'll get on
+if you keep that rule in your mind."
+
+Lucy put her arm round her little stepdaughter, and drew her close.
+"I know that our Mona wouldn't hurt me wilfully," she said kindly.
+"She's got too warm a heart."
+
+Peter Carne patted Mona's shoulder tenderly.  "I know--I know she has.
+We've all got to learn and you can't know things unless they are pointed
+out to you.  I'm always thankful to them that helped me in that way when I
+was young.  Mona'll be glad, too, some day."
+
+"Grown-ups always say things like that," thought Mona, wistfully.  She did
+not feel at all glad then.  In fact, she felt so ashamed and so mortified,
+she thought gladness could never enter into her life again.
+
+It did come, though, for the hurt was not as deep as she thought.  It came
+the next day when her mother trimmed the new hat.  Lucy had good taste,
+and when living at the Grange she had often helped the young ladies with
+their millinery.
+
+"If I put the velvet bow just where the wreath joins, and let the ends
+hang just ever so little over the edge of the brim, I think it'll look
+nice and a little bit out of the common.  Don't you, dear?"  She held up
+the hat to show off the effect.  Mona thought it was lovely.
+
+"Then, as soon as ever I can I'll cut out your dresses, and, if you'll
+help me with the housework, I'll make them myself.  It won't take me so
+very long, with my machine."
+
+She spoke of it so lightly that Mona did not realise in the least what the
+fatigue of it would be to her.
+
+"Oh, I'll do everything," she said, cheerfully.  "You leave everything to
+me, mother, and only do your sewing, I can manage."
+
+And she did manage, and well, too, in the intervals of trying on, and
+admiring, and watching the frocks growing into shape and beauty under
+Lucy's hands.  They were quite plain little frocks, but in Mona's eyes
+they were lovely.  She could not decide which of them she liked best.
+
+Lucy finished off the pink one first, and as soon as it was completed Mona
+took it upstairs and put it on.  New dresses very seldom came her way, and
+she was in a great state of excitement.  She had never in her life before
+had one that she might put on on a week day and wear all day long.
+As a rule, one had to wait for Sunday, and then the frock might only be
+worn for a few hours, if the weather was fine, and as soon as ever church
+and Sunday school were over it had to be changed.
+
+"Doesn't it look nice!" she cried, delightedly, running downstairs to show
+her mother.  "And it fits me like a glove!"  Her cheeks were almost as
+pink as her gown.  Her blue eyes glowed with pleasure.  She looked like a
+pretty pink blossom as she stood with the sunshine pouring in on her.
+
+Lucy smiled at the compliment to her skill.  "You do look nice, dear."
+
+Holding out her crisp, pink skirt, Mona danced gaily round the kitchen,
+the breeze blowing in at the open door ruffled her hair a little.
+She drew herself up, breathless, and glanced out.  Everything certainly
+looked very tempting out of doors.  She longed to go and have a run,
+the breeze and the sunshine seemed to be calling her.  She scarcely liked,
+though, to leave her mother, tired as she was, and still busy at the blue
+frock.
+
+While she was standing looking out, her father appeared at the gate,
+a letter in his hand.  He came up the path reading it.  When he came to
+the porch he looked up and saw Mona.
+
+"Oh, my!  How smart we are!"
+
+"Do you like it, father?  Isn't it pretty?"
+
+"Fine!  And now I s'pose you're longing to go out and show it off!"
+He laughed, and pinched her cheeks.  Mona felt quite guilty at his quick
+reading of her thoughts, but before she could reply he went on, more
+gravely, "I've got a letter from your grandmother.  She sends her love to
+you."  He went inside and put the letter down on the table before Lucy.
+
+"She doesn't seem very well," he said, with a pucker on his brow, "and she
+complains of being lonely.  I'm very glad she's got nice neighbours handy.
+They'd be sure to run in and see her, and look after her a bit if she's
+bad.  I shouldn't like to feel she was ailing, and all alone."
+
+Mona's face dropped, and her heart too.  She felt horribly guilty.
+"Would Mrs. Lane go in and sit with her for company?  Would she look after
+her if she was bad?  Had they made up their quarrel?" she wondered,
+"or were they still not on speaking terms?"  She did not know whether to
+tell her father of the quarrel or not, so she said nothing.
+
+Lucy had been busy trying to frame an excuse for sending Mona out.
+She knew she was longing to go.
+
+"Mona," she said, when at last they had finished discussing the letter and
+its contents, "would you like to go down to Mr. Henders' for some tea and
+sugar, and go on to Dr. Edwards for my medicine?  He said it would be
+ready whenever anyone could come for it."
+
+Mona beamed with pleasure.  "I'll go and put on my hat and boots now this
+minute," and within ten she was ready, and walking, basket in hand, and
+very self-conscious, down the hill to the shops.
+
+The church clock struck twelve as she reached the doctor's.  In a few
+minutes the children would all be pouring out of school, and wouldn't they
+stare when they saw her!  She felt almost shy at the thought of facing
+them, and gladly turned into Mr. Henders' out of their way.  She would
+dawdle about in there, she told herself, until most of them had gone by.
+
+She did dawdle about until Mrs. Henders asked her twice if there was
+anything more that she wanted, and, as she could not pretend that there
+was, she had to step out and face the world again.  Fortunately, though,
+only the older and sedater girls were to be seen.  Philippa Luxmore and
+Patty Row, each carrying her dinner bag, Winnie Maunders, and Kitty
+Johnson, and one or two Mona did not know to speak to.
+
+Philippa and Patty always brought their dinner with them, as the school
+was rather far from their homes.  Sometimes they had their meal in the
+schoolroom, but, if the weather was warm and dry, they liked best to eat
+it out of doors, down on the rocks, or in a field by the school.
+
+When they caught sight of Mona they rushed up to her eagerly.  "Oh, my!
+How nice you look, Mona.  What a pretty frock!  It's new, isn't it?
+Are you going to wear it every day or only on Sundays?"
+
+"Oh, every day." Mona spoke in a lofty tone.  "It's only one of my working
+frocks.  I've got two.  The other's a blue one.  Mother's made them for
+me."
+
+"Um! Your mother is good to you, Mona Carne!  I wish I'd got frocks like
+that for working in.  I'd be glad to have them for Sundays.  Where are you
+going?"
+
+"Home."
+
+"Oh, don't go home yet.  Patty and me are going down to eat our dinner on
+the rocks.  Come on down too.  You won't hurt your frock."
+
+"I don't think I can stay--I ought to go back.  I've got mother's medicine
+here.  It's getting on for dinner-time, too, and father's home to-day."
+Glancing up the road, she caught sight of Millie Higgins and another girl
+in the distance.  She particularly did not want to meet Millie just then.
+She made such rude remarks, and she always fingered things so.  Mona had
+not forgiven her either for leading her astray the day her mother went
+into Baymouth.
+
+She hesitated a moment and was lost.  She turned and walked away from her
+home.  Philippa slipped her arm through hers on one side, and Patty on the
+other, and almost before she knew where she was she was racing with them
+to the shore.
+
+The wind had risen somewhat, so it took them some minutes to find a nice
+sheltered spot in the sunshine and out of the wind, and they had to sit on
+the land side of the rocks, with their backs to the sea.  It was very
+pleasant, though, and, once settled, Mona told them all about her new hat,
+and they gave her a share of their dinner.
+
+After that they told her of the new summer frocks they were to have, and
+the conversation grew so interesting and absorbing, they forgot everything
+else until the church clock struck two!
+
+With a howl of dismay, they all sprang to their feet, and then they howled
+again, and even more loudly.
+
+"Oh, Mona, look!  The tide's right in!  We'll have to get back through the
+fields, and, oh, shan't we be late!"  Patty and Philippa began to scramble
+back as fast as ever they could.  "Good-bye," they called over their
+shoulders.  "Oh, Mona, look out for your basket, it's floating."
+
+They could not have stayed to help her, but it did seem heartless of them
+to run away and leave her alone to manage as best she could.
+Mona looked about her helplessly, her heart sinking right down, down.
+The tide at that point had a way of creeping up gently, stealthily, and
+then, with one big swirl would rush right in and around the group of rocks
+on which she stood.  If the wind was high and the sea at all rough, as
+likely as not it would sweep right over the rocks and back again with such
+force that anyone or anything on them was swept away with it.  There was
+not wind enough to-day for that.  At least, Mona herself was safe, but her
+basket!--already that was swamped with water.  At the thought of the
+ruined tea and sugar her eyes filled.  Her mother's medicine was in the
+basket too.  She would save that!  At any rate, she would feel less guilty
+and ashamed if she could take that back to her.  She made a dash to seize
+the basket before the next wave caught it, slipped on the slimy rock, and
+fell face forward--and at the same moment she heard the crash of breaking
+glass.  The medicine was mingling with the waves, the basket was riding
+out on the crest of them!
+
+Poor Mona!  At that minute the hardest heart would have felt sorry for
+her.  Her dress was ruined, her hands were scraped and cut, her mother's
+tonic was gone!  The misery which filled her heart was more than she could
+bear.  "I can't go home!" she sobbed.  "I can't, I never can any more."
+Big sobs shook her, tears poured down her cheeks.  "I can't go home,
+I can't face them.  Oh, what shall I do!  What shall I do!"  She looked
+down over her wet, green-slimed frock, so pretty and fresh but an hour
+ago, and her sobs broke out again.  "I'll--I'll run away--they won't want
+me after this, but p'raps they'll be sorry for me when they miss me.
+Oh, I wish I'd never come, I wish I'd never met Phil and Patty--they'd no
+business to ask me to come with them--it was too bad of them.  I wish I'd
+gone straight home.  If it hadn't been for Millie Higgins I should have,
+and all this would have been saved.  Oh, what shall I do?"
+
+As there was no one but a few gulls to advise her, she received no
+comfort, and had, after all, to settle the question for herself.
+
+For a few moments all she did was to cry.  Then, "I'll go to granny," she
+decided.  "She'll be glad to have me, and she won't scold.  Yes, I'll go
+to granny.  Father and mother will be glad to be rid of me--I--I'm nothing
+but a trouble to them!"  But, all the same, she felt so sorry for herself
+she could scarcely see where she was going for the tears which blinded
+her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Mona's first thought was to avoid being seen by anyone who would recognise
+her; her second--that she must keep out of sight as much as possible until
+her dress was dry, and her face less disfigured, for anyone meeting her
+now would stop her to enquire if she had met with an accident.
+
+By keeping along the shore for some little distance it was possible to get
+out on to the high road to Milbrook, but it was not an easy path to
+travel.  It meant continued climbing over rocks, ploughing through loose,
+soft sand, or heavy wet sand, clinging to the face of a cliff and
+scrambling along it, or wading through deep water.
+
+What her new pink frock would be like by the time she reached the road
+Mona did not care to contemplate.  "It will be ruined for ever--
+the first time of wearing, too," and a sob caught in her throat as she
+remembered how her mother had toiled to get the material, and then to make
+the dress.  Now that she was losing her she realised how much she had
+grown to love her mother in the short time she had lived with her, and how
+good and kind Lucy had been.  It never occurred to her that she was
+doubling her mother's trouble by running away in this cowardly fashion.
+Indeed, she would have been immensely surprised if anyone had hinted at
+such a thing.  She was convinced that she was doing something very heroic
+and self-denying; and the more she hurt herself clambering over the rough
+roads, the more heroic and brave she thought herself.  And when, at last,
+she stepped out on the high road, and realised that she had seven miles to
+walk to her grandmother's house, she thought herself bravest of all,
+a perfect heroine, in fact.
+
+Already she was feeling hungry, for breakfast had been early, and Patty
+and Philippa had only been able to spare her a slice of bread and butter
+and a biscuit.
+
+On she trudged, and on, and on.  A distant clock struck three, and just at
+the same moment she passed a sign-post with 'Milbrook, 6 miles,' painted
+on one arm of it, and 'Seacombe, 1 mile,' on another.
+
+"Then she had six long tiresome miles to walk before she could get a
+meal!" she thought.  "If she did not get on faster than she was doing,
+it would be dark night before she reached Hillside Cottage, and granny
+would be gone to bed.  She always went to bed as soon as daylight began to
+go.  How frightened she would be at being called up to let Mona in!"
+
+The thought quickened her steps a little, and she covered the next mile in
+good time.  She ran down the hills, and trotted briskly along the level.
+She got on faster in that way, but she very soon felt too tired to
+continue.  Her legs ached so badly she had no heart left for running.
+Now and again she leaned back against the hedge for a little rest, and oh,
+how she did wish that it was the blackberry season!  She was starving, or
+felt as though she was.
+
+By and by, when she had quite despaired of ever reaching granny's that
+night, she caught sight of a cart lumbering along in the distance, and a
+man sitting up in it driving.  It was the first sight of a human being
+that she had seen since she started, and she welcomed it gladly.
+"Perhaps it's going my way, and will give me a lift."
+
+The thought so cheered her that she went back a little way to meet the
+cart.  When she drew nearer she saw that it was a market cart, and that
+the driver was a kindly-looking elderly man.  Every now and again he
+talked encouragingly to his horse to quicken its pace.  Between whiles he
+sang snatches of a hymn in a loud, rolling bass.
+
+As soon as he saw that Mona was waiting to speak to him, he stopped his
+singing and drew up the horse.
+
+"Good evening, missie," he said civilly.  "Are you wanting a lift?"
+
+"Oh, please--I wondered if you would--I am so tired I can hardly walk."
+
+"Um!  Where were you thinking of going?"
+
+"To Hillside----"
+
+"Um!  You've got a brave step to go yet.  We're a good three miles from
+Hillside.  Have 'ee come far?"
+
+"From Seacombe," Mona admitted reluctantly.
+
+"My word!  It's a brave long walk for a young thing like you to take
+alone.  Why, you wouldn't reach Hillside till after dark--not at the rate
+you could go.  You look tired out already."
+
+"I am," sighed Mona, pathetically.
+
+"Here, jump up quick, or my old nag'll fall asleep, and I'll have the
+works of the world to wake un up again."
+
+Mona laughed.  "Thank you," she said, eyes and voice full of gratitude as
+she clambered up the wheel, and perched herself on the high, hard seat
+beside her new friend.  "I'm very much obliged to you, sir.  I don't
+believe I'd ever have got there, walking all the way.  I didn't know seven
+miles was so far."
+
+"I don't believe you would.  A mile seems like two when you ain't in good
+trim for it, and the more miles you walk, the longer they seem.
+Gee up, you old rogue you!"  This to the horse, who, after much coaxing,
+had consented to move on again.
+
+"I never felt so tired in all my life before," sighed Mona, in a voice so
+faint and weary that her companion looked at her sharply.
+
+"Had any dinner?" he asked.
+
+Mona shook her head.  "No, I--I missed my dinner.  I--I came away in a
+hurry."
+
+"That's always a bad plan."  He stooped down and pulled a straw bag
+towards him.  "I couldn't eat all mine.  My wife was too generous to me.
+P'raps you could help me out with it.  I don't like to take any home--it
+kind of hurts my wife's feelings if I do.  She thinks I'm ill, too.
+Can you finish up what's left?"
+
+He unrolled a clean white cloth and laid it and its contents on Mona's
+lap.
+
+"Could she!"  Mona's eyes answered for her.
+
+"Do you like bread and ham?  It may be a trifle thick----"
+
+"Oh!" gasped Mona, "I think bread and ham, _thick_ bread and ham is nicer
+than anything else in the world!"
+
+"Um! Peg away, then.  And there's an orange, in case you're thirsty."
+
+"Oh, you are kind!" cried Mona, gratefully.  "And oh, I am so glad I met
+you, I don't believe I'd have got much further, I was feeling so faint."
+
+"That was from want of food.  Here, before you begin, hadn't you better
+put something about your shoulders.  It's getting fresh now the sun's gone
+down, and when we get to the top of that hill we shall feel it.  Have you
+got a coat, or a shawl, or something?"
+
+"No, I haven't.  I--I came away in a hurry--but I shall be all right.
+I don't mind the cold."
+
+"I should think you were in too much of a hurry--to have forget your
+shawl, and your dinner, too.  Wasn't there anybody to look after you,
+and see you started out properly?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You ain't an orphan, are you?"
+
+"Oh, no, I've got a father and a stepmother----"
+
+"Oh-h!" meaningly.  "Is that the trouble?"
+
+Mona fired up at once in defence of Lucy.  "No, it isn't.  She's just the
+same as my own mother.  She's so kind to me--if she hadn't been so kind
+I--I wouldn't have minded so much.  She sat up last night to--to finish
+making my frock for me."  Her words caught in her throat, and she could
+say no more.
+
+Her companion eyed first her disfigured face, and then her bedraggled
+frock.  "It seems to have seen trouble since last night, don't it?" he
+remarked drily, and then the words and the sobs in Mona's throat poured
+out together.
+
+"That's why--I--I'm here.  I can't go home and show her what I've done.
+It was so pretty only this morning--and now----"  Then bit by bit
+Mona poured forth her tale of woe into the ears of the kindly stranger,
+and Mr. Dodds sat and listened patiently, thoughtfully.
+
+"And what about your poor father and mother and their feelings," he asked
+when Mona had done.
+
+"Oh--oh--they'll be glad to be rid of me.  They'll be better without me,"
+said Mona, with the air and voice of a martyr.
+
+"Um!  If you're certain sure of that, all well and good, but wouldn't it
+have been better to have went back and asked them?  It does seem a bit
+hard that they should be made to suffer more 'cause they've suffered so
+much already.  They won't know but what you've been carried out to sea
+'long with your poor mother's tonic."
+
+Mona did not reply.  In her inmost heart she knew that he was right,
+but she hadn't the courage to face the truth.  It was easier, too, to go
+on than to go back, and granny would be glad to see her.  She would be
+sorry for her, and would make much of her.  Granny always thought that all
+she did was right.
+
+In spite of her feelings, though, Mona finished her meal, and felt much
+better for it, but she presently grew so sleepy she could not talk and
+could scarcely keep on her seat.  Mr. Dodds noticed the curly head sink
+down lower and lower, then start up again with a jerk, then droop again.
+
+"Look here--what's your name, my dear?"
+
+"Mona--Carne," said Mona, sleepily, quite oblivious of the fact that she
+had given away her identity.
+
+"Well, Mona, what I was going to say was, you'll be tumbling off your seat
+and find yourself under the wheel before you know where you are; so I'd
+advise you to get behind there, and curl down into the straw.  Then, if
+you draw my top-coat over you, you'll be safe and warm both."
+
+Mona needed no second bidding.  She almost tumbled into the clean,
+sweet-smelling straw.  "Thank you," she was going to say, as she drew the
+coat up over her, but she only got as far as 'thank,' and it seemed to her
+that before she could say 'you,' she was roused again by the cart drawing
+up, and there she was at her grandmother's gate, with granny standing on
+the doorstep peering out into the dimness.  She thought she had closed her
+eyes for only a minute, and in that minute they had travelled three miles.
+
+"Is that you, Mr. Dodds?"  Granny called out sharply.  "Whatever made 'ee
+come at this time of night?  'Tis time your poor 'orse was 'ome in his
+stable, and you in your own house!"
+
+"I've come on purpose to bring you something very valuable, Mrs. Barnes.
+I've got a nice surprise for 'ee here in my cart.  Now then, little maid,
+you've come to the end of your journey--and I've got a brave way to go."
+
+Mona was still so sleepy that she had to be almost lifted out of the cart.
+
+"What! Why! Mona!"  Then, as Mona stumbled up the path she almost fell
+into her grandmother's arms.  "What's the meaning of it?  What are they
+thinking about to send 'ee back at this time of night!  In another few
+minutes I'd have been gone to bed.  I don't call it considerate at all."
+
+"They don't know," stammered Mona.  "I wasn't sent, I came.  Oh, granny,
+don't ask about it now--let me get indoors and sit down.  I'm so tired I
+can't stand.  I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."
+
+But tired though she was, she turned back and thanked her rescuer.
+"I'd have been sleeping under a hedge to-night, if it hadn't been for
+you," she said gratefully.
+
+"Oh, what I did isn't anything," he said amiably.  "'Tisn't worth speaking
+about.  I don't doubt but what you'd do as much for me, if I wanted it.
+Good night, Mrs. Barnes.  Take care of yourself, ma'am, it's a bit fresh
+to-night.  Good night, little maid.  Gee-up, Nettle, my son."
+
+What he had done was a mere nothing, as he said.  But what he did do
+before the night was over was a very big something.  Between two and three
+hours later he was in Seacombe, and knocking at Peter Carne's door.
+
+"I knew you'd be anxious, so I thought I'd just step along and let 'ee
+know that your little maid's all right," he said quietly, making no
+mention of the seven long miles he had tramped after he had fed and
+stabled his horse for the night.
+
+"Anxious!"  Lucy lay half fainting in her chair.  Peter's face was white
+and drawn with the anguish of the last few hours.  Neither of them could
+doubt any longer that Mona had been swept off the rock and out to sea.
+Nothing else could have kept her, they thought.  Patty and Philippa had
+told where they had last seen her, but it was four o'clock before they had
+come out of school and heard that she was missing.  So the crowds
+clustering about the shore had never any hope of finding her alive.
+
+Peter Carne almost fainted, too, with the relief the stranger's words
+brought him.  The best he had dared to hope for when the knock came was
+the news that Mona's body had been washed in.  The revulsion of feeling
+from despair to joy sent him reeling helpless into a chair.
+
+Humphrey Dodds put out his arms and supported him gently.  "I didn't know,
+I ought to have thought, and told 'ee more careful like."
+
+"Where is she?" gasped Lucy.
+
+"Safe with her grandmother--and there I'd let her bide for a bit, if I was
+you," he added, with a twinkle in his eye.  "It'll do her good."
+
+They tried to thank him, but words failed them both.  They pressed him to
+stay the night, he must be so tired, and it was so late, but he refused.
+A walk was nothing to him, and he had to be at work by five the next
+morning.  "But I wouldn't say 'no' to a bit of supper," he said, knowing
+quite well that they would all be better for some food.
+
+Then, while Lucy got the meal ready, Peter went down to tell his good
+news, and send the weary searchers to their homes.
+
+Over their supper Mr. Dodds told them of Mona's pitiful little confession.
+"It doesn't seem hardly fair to tell again what she told me, but I thought
+it might help you to understand how she came to be so foolish.  It don't
+seem so bad when you know how it all came about."
+
+When he had had his supper and a pipe, he started on his homeward way,
+with but the faintest chance of meeting anyone at that hour who could give
+him a lift over some of the long miles.
+
+Little dreaming of the trouble she was causing, Mona, clad in one of her
+grandmother's huge, plain night-gowns, and rolled up in blankets, slept on
+the old sofa in the kitchen, as dreamlessly and placidly as though she
+hadn't a care on her mind.
+
+Overhead, Grannie Barnes moaned and groaned, and tossed and heaved on her
+bed, but Mona slept on unconcerned and happy.  Even the creaking of the
+stairs when granny came down in the morning did not rouse her.  The first
+thing that she was conscious of was a hand shaking her by the shoulders,
+and a voice saying rather sharply, "Come, wake up.  Don't you know that
+it's eight o'clock, and no fire lit, nor nothing!  I thought I might have
+lain on a bit this morning, and you'd have brought me a cup of tea,
+knowing how bad I've been, and very far from well yet.  You said you did
+it for your stepmother.  It's a good thing I didn't wait any longer!"
+
+Mona sat up and stretched, and rubbed her eyes.  "Could this be granny
+talking?  Granny, who had never expected anything of her!"
+
+No one feels in the best of tempers when roused out of a beautiful sleep,
+and to be greeted by a scolding when least of all expecting it, does not
+make one feel more amiable.
+
+"I was fast asleep," she mumbled, yawning.  "I couldn't know the time if I
+was asleep.  You should have called me."  She dropped back on her pillow
+wearily.  "Oh, I'm so tired and I am aching all over.  I don't believe
+I'll ever wake up any more, granny.  Why--why must I get up?"
+
+"To do some work for once.  I thought you might want some breakfast."
+
+This was so unlike the indulgent granny she had known before she went
+away, that Mona could not help opening her eyes wide in surprise.
+Then she sat up, and, as granny did not relent, she put her feet over the
+edge of the sofa and began to think about dressing.
+
+"What frock can I put on, granny?"  It suddenly struck her that it would
+not be very pleasant to be living in one place while all her belongings
+were in another.
+
+"The one you took off, I s'pose."
+
+"But I can't.  It isn't fit to wear till it has been washed and ironed.
+It wants mending, too.  I tore it dreadfully."
+
+"Um!  And who do you think is going to do all that?"
+
+Mona stared again at her granny with perplexed and anxious eyes.
+There used to be no question as to who would do all those things for her.
+"I don't know," she faltered.
+
+"Well, I can't.  I haven't hardly got the strength to stand and wash my
+own few things, and I'm much too bad to be starching and ironing frocks
+every few days.  Better your stepmother had got you a good stuff one than
+such a thing as that.  If she had, it wouldn't have been spoilt by your
+falling on the seaweed.  Nonsense, I call it!"  Granny drew back the
+curtains sharply, as though to give vent to her feelings.  The perplexity
+in Mona's mind increased.  She was troubled, too, by the marked change in
+her grandmother.  In the bright morning light which now poured in, she
+noticed for the first time a great difference in her appearance as well as
+in her manner.  She was much thinner than she used to be, and very pale.
+Her face had a drawn look, and her eyes seemed sunken.  She seemed,
+somehow, to have shrunken in every way.  Her expression used to be smiling
+and kindly.  It was now peevish and irritable.
+
+For the first time Mona realised that her grandmother had been very ill,
+and not merely complaining.
+
+"I'll light the fire, granny, in a minute--I mean, I would if I knew what
+to put on."
+
+"There's one of your very old frocks upstairs, hanging behind the door in
+your own room.  It's shabby, and it's small for you, I expect, but you'll
+have to make it do, if you haven't got any other."
+
+"It'll do for the time, till my pink one is fit to wear again."
+
+"Yes--but who's going to make it fit?  That's what I'd like to know.
+Can you do it yourself?  I s'pose you'd have to if you was with your
+stepmother."
+
+"No, I can't do it.  Do you think Mrs. Lane would?  I'd do something for
+her----"
+
+Her grandmother turned to her with a look so full of anger that Mona's
+words died on her lips.  For the moment she had forgotten all about the
+quarrel.
+
+"Mrs. Lane!  Mrs. Lane!  After the things she said about you--you'd ask
+her to do you a favour?  Well, Mona Carne, I'm ashamed of you!  Don't you
+know that I've never spoken to her nor her husband since that day she said
+you'd pulled down the faggots that threw me down, and then had left her
+cats to bear the blame of it.  I've never got over that fall, and I've
+never got over her saying that of you, and, ill though I've been,
+I've never demeaned myself by asking her to come in to see me.
+I don't know what you can be thinking of.  I'm thankful I've got more
+self-respect."
+
+Mona's face was crimson, and her eyes were full of shame.  Oh, how
+bitterly she repented now that she had not had the courage to speak out
+that day and say honestly, "Granny, Mrs. Lane was right, I did pull over
+the faggots and forgot them.  It was my fault that you tripped and fell--
+but I never meant that the blame should fall on anyone else."
+
+She longed to say it now, but her tongue failed her.  What had been such a
+little thing to start with had now grown quite serious.
+
+When her father had wanted her to come home, he had consoled himself for
+taking her from granny by the thought that she had neighbours and friends
+about her for company, but now it seemed that she would rather die alone
+than ask their help, or even let them know that she was ill.
+
+Mona turned despondently away, and slowly mounted the stairs.  "If you do
+ever so little a thing wrong, it grows and grows until it's a big thing!
+Here's granny all alone, 'cause of me, and mother all alone, 'cause of me,
+and worrying herself finely by now, I expect, and--and I shouldn't wonder
+if it makes her ill again," Mona's eyes filled at the thought, "and--and I
+never meant to be a bad girl.  I--I seem to be one before I know it--it is
+hard lines."
+
+She unhung her old frock from behind the door, and in the chest of drawers
+she found an old apron, "I shall begin to wonder soon if I've ever been
+away," she thought to herself, as she looked at herself in the tiny
+mirror.
+
+"Puss, puss, puss," called a voice.  "Come along, dears.  Your breakfast
+is ready."
+
+Mona stepped to the window and peeped out.  Mrs. Lane was standing with a
+saucer of bread and milk in each hand.  At the sound of her voice her two
+cats came racing up the garden, chattering as they went, and she gave them
+their meal out there in the sunshine.  As she turned to go back to the
+house she glanced up at Granny Barnes', and at the window where Mona
+stood.  Perhaps she had been attracted by the feeling that someone was
+looking at her, or she may have heard something of Mona's arrival the
+night before.
+
+For a second a look of surprise crossed her face, and a half-smile--then
+as quickly as it came it vanished, and a look of cold disapproval took its
+place.
+
+Mona felt snubbed and hurt.  It was dreadful to have sunk so low in
+anyone's opinion.  It was worse when it was in Mrs. Lane's, for they used
+to be such good friends, and Mrs. Lane was always so kind to her, and so
+patient, and, oh, how Mona had loved to go into her house to play with her
+kittens, or to listen to her stories, and look at the wonderful things
+Captain Lane had brought home with him from some of his voyages.
+
+Captain Lane, who had been a sailor in the Merchant Service, had been to
+all parts of the world, and had brought home something from most.
+
+Mona coloured hotly with the pain of the snub, and the reproof it
+conveyed.
+
+"I can't bear it," she thought.  "I can't bear it--I'll have to tell."
+
+She went down to the kitchen in a very troubled state of mind.
+Life seemed very sad and difficult just now.
+
+Granny was sitting by the fire, a few sticks in her hand.  "It's taken me
+all this time to get these," she said pathetically, "and now I can't stoop
+any more.  What time we shall get any breakfast I don't know, I'm sure,
+and I'm sinking for the want of something."
+
+"I'll get you a cup of tea soon.  I won't be any time."  It cheered her a
+little to have something to do, and she clutched at anything that helped
+her not to think.  She lighted the fire, swept the hearth up, and laid the
+cloth.  Then she went out to sweep the doorstep.  It was lovely outside in
+the sweet sunshine.  Mona felt she could have been so happy if only----
+While she was lingering over her task, Mrs. Lane came out to sweep her
+step and the tiled path, but this time she kept her head steadily turned
+away.
+
+"I'll go right in and tell granny now this minute," thought Mona, her lip
+quivering with pain.  "Then, perhaps, we'll all be friends again.
+I can't bear to live here like this."
+
+But when she turned into the kitchen the kettle was boiling, and her
+grandmother was measuring the tea into the pot.  "Get the loaf and the
+butter, child, I feel I can eat a bit of bread and butter this morning."
+
+Mona got them, and the milk, and some more coal to make up the fire, and
+all the time she was saying over and over to herself different beginnings
+of her confession.  She was so deeply absorbed in her thoughts that she
+did not notice the large slice of bread and butter that her grandmother
+had put on her plate.
+
+"Don't you want it?" Granny asked sharply.  "Why, how red you are, child!
+What have you been doing to make your colour like that.  You haven't
+broken anything, have you?"
+
+Her tone and her sharpness jarred on Mona cruelly, and put all her new
+resolutions to flight.  "No, I haven't," she said, sullenly.
+"There wasn't anything to break but the broom, and you saw me put that
+right away."
+
+Granny looked at her for a moment in silence.  "Your manners haven't
+improved since you went home," she said severely.  "If I'd spoken to my
+grandmother like that, I'd have been sent to bed."
+
+A new difficulty opened before Mona's troubled mind.  If she was rude, or
+idle, or disagreeable, the blame for it would fall upon Lucy, and that
+would be an injustice she could not bear.  Now that she had lost her she
+realised how good Lucy had been to her, and how much she loved her.
+For her sake, she would do all she could to control her temper and her
+tongue.
+
+She had coloured again--with indignation this time--hot words had sprung
+to her lips in defence of Lucy, but she closed them determinedly, and
+choked the words back again.  She felt that she could say nothing; she
+felt, too, that Lucy would not wish her to say anything.  She could not
+explain so as to make her granny understand that it was not Lucy's fault
+that she was rude and ill-tempered.  It was by acts, not words, that she
+could serve Lucy best.  And for her sake she _would_ try.  She would try
+her very hardest to control her temper and her tongue.  The determination
+brought some comfort to her poor troubled heart.  At any rate, she would
+be doing something that Lucy would be glad about.
+
+Her confession, though, remained unspoken.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Mona did try to be good, she tried hard, but she was very, very unhappy.
+She missed her home, she missed Lucy, and her father, and her freedom.
+She longed, too, with an intolerable longing, for the sight and the sound
+of the sea.  She had never, till now that she had lost them, realised how
+dearly she loved the quaint little steep and rambling village, with the
+sea at its foot, and the hills behind it.  She was always homesick.
+
+Perhaps if she had been sent to Hillside, and it had been her plain duty
+to live there, and nowhere else, she might have felt more happy and
+settled.  Or, if granny had been the same indulgent, sympathetic granny as
+of old, but she had placed herself where she was by her own foolish,
+unkind act, which she now bitterly repented; and she was there with a
+cloud resting on her character and motives.  She had shown herself
+ungrateful and unkind; she had played a coward's part, and had bitterly
+pained her father and Lucy.
+
+They did not reproach her--she would have felt better had they done so--
+but she knew.  And, after all, granny did not want her, or so it seemed!
+
+Mona did not realise that her grandmother was really seriously unwell,
+and that her irritability she could not help.  Mrs. Barnes did not know it
+herself.  Mona only realised that she was almost always cross,
+that nothing pleased her, that she never ran and fetched and carried,
+as she used to do, while Mona sat by the fire and read.  It was granny who
+sat by the fire now.  She did not read, though.  She said her eyes pained
+her, and her head ached too much.  She did not sew, either.  She just sat
+idly by the fire and moped and dozed, or roused herself to grumble at
+something or other.
+
+The day after she came to Hillside, Mona had written to her mother.
+She told her where she was, and why, and tried to say that she was sorry,
+but no reply had come, and this troubled her greatly.
+
+"Were they too angry with her to have anything more to say to her?
+Was Lucy ill?"
+
+Every day she went to meet the postman, her heart throbbing with eager
+anxiety, and day after day she went back disappointed.  If it had not been
+for very shame, she would have run away again and gone home, and have
+asked to be forgiven, but she could not make up her mind to do that.
+Probably they would not want her at home again, after all the trouble and
+expense she had been to them.  Perhaps her father might even send her back
+to Hillside again.  The shame of that would be unbearable!
+
+She was uncomfortable, too, as well as unhappy.  She wanted her clothes,
+her brush and comb, her books, and all her other belongings.  She had,
+after a fashion, settled into her old room again, but it seemed bare and
+unhomelike after her pretty one at Cliff Cottage.
+
+Then one day, after long waiting and longing, and hope and disappointment,
+her father came.  For a moment her heart had leaped with the glad wild
+hope that he had come to take her back with him.  Then the sight of the
+box and parcel he carried had dashed it down again.  He had brought her
+all her possessions.
+
+"Well, Mona," he said quietly, as she stood facing him, shy and
+embarrassed.  "So you prefer Hillside to Seacombe!  Well, it's always best
+to be where you're happiest, if you feel free to make your choice.
+For my own part, I couldn't live away from the sea, but tastes differ."
+
+"But--mine--don't differ," stammered Mona.  "I am not happier."  She was
+so overcome she could hardly speak above a whisper, and her father had
+already turned to Mrs. Barnes.
+
+"Well, mother," he cried, and poor Mona could not help noticing how much
+more kindly his voice sounded when he spoke to granny.  "How are you?
+You don't look first rate.  Don't 'ee feel up to the mark?"  He spoke
+lightly, but his eyes, as they studied the old woman's face, were full of
+surprise and concern.  Granny shook her head.  "No, I ain't well,"
+she said, dully.  "I'm very, very far from well.  I don't know what's the
+matter.  P'raps 'tis the weather."
+
+"The weather's grand.  It's bootiful enough to set everybody dancing,"
+said her son-in-law cheerfully, but still eyeing her with that same look
+of concern.
+
+"P'raps 'tis old age, then.  I'm getting on, of course.  It's only what I
+ought to expect; but I seem to feel old all of a sudden; everything's a
+burden to me.  I can't do my work as I used, and I can't walk, and I can't
+get used to doing nothing I'm ashamed for you to see the place as it is,
+Peter if I'd known you was coming I'd have made an effort----"
+
+"That's just why I didn't tell 'ee, mother.  I came unexpected on purpose,
+'cause I didn't want 'ee to be scrubbing the place from the chimney pots
+down to the rain-water barrel.  I know what you are, you see."
+
+Poor old Granny Barnes smiled, but Mona felt hurt.  She did her best to
+keep the house clean and tidy, and she thought it was looking as nice as
+nice could be.  "What I was, you mean," said granny.  "I don't seem to
+have the strength to scrub anything now-a-days."
+
+"Oh, well, there's no need for 'ee to.  You've got Mona to do that kind of
+thing for 'ee."
+
+Mona's heart sank even lower.  "Then he really had no thought of having
+her home again!"
+
+"I've brought your clothes, Mona," he said, turning again to her.
+"Lucy was troubled that they hadn't been sent before.  She thought you
+must be wanting them."
+
+"Thank you," said Mona, dully, and could think of nothing more to say,
+though she knew her father waited for an answer.
+
+"I've brought 'ee some fish, mother," picking up the basket.  "It come in
+last night.  I thought you might fancy a bit, and Lucy sent a bit of
+bacon, her own curing, and a jelly, or something of that sort."
+Granny's face brightened.  Though she had not approved of Mona's being
+given a stepmother, she appreciated Lucy's kindness, and when they
+presently sat down to dinner and she had some of the jelly, she
+appreciated it still more.  Her appetite had needed coaxing, but there had
+been nothing to coax it with.  "It tempts anyone to eat," she remarked,
+graciously.  "When one is out of sorts, one fancies something out of the
+common."
+
+"Lucy'll be rare and pleased to think you could take a bit," said Peter,
+delighted for Lucy's sake.
+
+"Yes, thank you.  She's made it very nice.  A trifle sour, perhaps, but I
+like things rather sharpish."
+
+"Mother," said Peter suddenly, "I wish you'd come to Seacombe to live.
+It'd be nice to have you near."  His eyes had been constantly wandering to
+his mother-in-law's face, and always with the same anxious look.
+The change in her since last he had seen her troubled him greatly.
+Her round cheeks had fallen in, her old rosiness had given place to a grey
+pallor.  She stooped very much and looked shrunken too.
+
+"Oh, granny, do!" cried Mona, eagerly.  It was almost the first time she
+had spoken, but the mere suggestion filled her with overwhelming joy and
+relief.
+
+"Then I could look in pretty often to see how you was, and bring you in a
+bit of fresh fish as often as you would care to have it.  Lucy would take
+a delight, too, in making 'ee that sort of thing," nodding towards the
+jelly, "or anything else you fancied.  We'd be at hand, too, to help 'ee
+if you wasn't very well."
+
+Granny Barnes was touched, and when she looked up there were tears in her
+eyes.  The prospect was tempting.  She had felt very forlorn and old, and
+helpless lately.  She had often felt too that she would like:
+
+    "A little petting
+        At life's setting."
+
+"It's good of you to think of it, Peter," she said, hesitatingly.
+Then, fearing that he might have spoken on the impulse of the moment,
+and that she was showing herself too anxious for his help and Lucy's,
+she drew herself up.  "But--well, this is _home_, and I don't fancy I
+could settle down in a strange place, and amongst strangers, at my time of
+life."
+
+"You'd be with those that are all you've got belonging to you in this
+world," said Peter.  But granny's mood had changed.  She would not listen
+to any more coaxing, and her son-in-law, seeming to understand her,
+changed the subject.
+
+Poor Mona, who did not understand so well, felt only vexed and impatient
+with the poor perverse old woman, for not falling in at once with a plan
+so delightful to herself.  Mona learned to understand as time went on,
+but she was too young yet.
+
+"But, granny, it would be ever so much nicer than this dull old place,
+and--and you'd have mother as well as me to look after you.  I like
+Seacombe ever so much better than Hillside.  Why won't you go, granny?"
+
+Peter Carne groaned.  Mona, by her tactlessness, was setting her
+grandmother dead against such a plan, and undoing all the good he had
+done.  Granny Barnes would never be driven into taking a step, but she
+would see things in her own time and in her own way, if she felt that no
+one was trying to force her.  He held up his hand for silence.
+
+"Your grandmother knows best what'll suit her.  It isn't what you like,
+it's what's best for her that we've all got to think about."
+
+But granny's anger had been roused.  "It may be a dull old place, but it's
+home," she said sharply.  "You can't understand what that means.
+You don't seem to have any particular feeling or you wouldn't be so ready
+to leave first one and then the other, without even a heartache.  I wonder
+sometimes, Mona, if you've got any heart.  Perhaps it's best that you
+shouldn't have; you're saved a lot of pain."  Granny began to whimper a
+little, to her son-in-law's great distress.  "Anyway, you were ready
+enough to run to the 'dull old place' when you were in trouble," she added, reproachfully, and Mona had no answer.
+
+She got up from the table, and, collecting the dishes together, carried
+them to the scullery.  "Oh, dear!" she sighed, irritably, "I seem to be
+always hurting somebody--and somebody's always hurting me.  I'd better go
+about with my mouth fastened up--even then I s'pose I'd be always doing
+something wrong.  People are easily offended, it's something dreadful."
+
+She felt very much aggrieved.  So much aggrieved that she gave only sullen
+words and looks, and never once enquired for Lucy, or sent her a message,
+or even hinted at being sorry for what she had done.
+
+"She didn't send any message to me," she muttered to herself, excusingly.
+"She never sent her love, or--or anything, so why should I send a message
+to her?"  She worked herself up into such a fine state of righteous anger
+that she almost persuaded herself that her behaviour had been all that it
+should be, and that she was the most misunderstood and ill-treated person
+in the whole wide world.
+
+In spite, though, of her being so perfect, she felt miserably unhappy,
+as she lay awake in the darkness, and thought over the day's happenings.
+She saw again her father's look of distress as she snapped at her
+grandmother, and answered him so sulkily.  She pictured him, too, walking
+away down the road towards home, without even a smile from her, and only a
+curt, sullen, good-bye!  Oh, how she wished now that she had run after him
+and kissed him, and begged him to forgive her.
+
+A big sob broke from her as she pictured him tramping those long lonely
+miles, his kind face so grave and pained, his heart so full of
+disappointment in her.
+
+"Oh how hateful he will think me--and I am, I am, and I can't tell him I
+don't really mean to be," and then her tears burst forth, and she cried,
+and cried until all the bitterness and selfishness were washed from her
+heart, and only gentler feelings were left.
+
+As she lay tired out, thinking over the past, and the future, a curious,
+long cry broke the stillness of the night.
+
+"The owl," she said to herself.  "I do wish he'd go away from here.
+He always frightens me with his miserable noise."  She snuggled more
+closely into her pillow, and drew the bedclothes up over her ear.
+"I'll try to go to sleep, then I shan't hear him."
+
+But, in spite of her efforts, the cry reached her again and again.
+"It can't be the owl," she said at last, sitting up in bed, the better to
+listen.  "It sounds more like a person!  Who can it be?"
+
+Again the cry came, "Mo--na!  Mo--o--na!"
+
+"Why, it's somebody calling me.  It must be granny!  Oh, dear!
+Whatever can be the matter, to make her call like that."
+
+Shaking all over with fear, she scrambled out of bed, and groped her way
+to the door.  As she opened it the cry reached her again.
+
+"Mo--na!"  This time there could be no doubt about it.  It came from her
+grandmother's room.
+
+"I'm coming!" she called loudly.  "All right, granny, I'm coming."
+She ran across the landing, guided by the lights shining through the
+chinks in her grandmother's door.
+
+"What's the matter?--are you feeling bad, granny?  Do you want something?"
+
+"Yes, I'm feeling very bad.  I'm ill, I'm very ill--oh, dear, oh dear,
+what shall I do?  Oh, I've no one to come and do anything for me.
+Oh, dear, oh what can I do?"  Granny's groans were dreadful.  Mona felt
+frightened and helpless.  She had not the least idea what to do or say.
+What did grown-ups do at times like this? she wondered.  She did not know
+where, or how, her grandmother suffered, and if she had she would not have
+known how to act.
+
+"Do you want me to fetch the doctor?  I'll go and put on my clothes.
+I won't be more than a minute or two, then I'll come back again----"
+
+"No--no, I can't be left alone all the time, I might die--here, alone;
+oh dear, oh dear, what a plight to be left in!  Not a living creature to
+come to me--but a child!  Oh, how bad I do feel!"
+
+"But I must do something, or call somebody," cried Mona desperately.
+She had never seen serious illness before, and she was frightened.
+Poor old Mrs. Barnes had always been a bad patient, and difficult to
+manage, even when her ailments were only trifling; now that she really
+felt ill, she had lost all control.
+
+"Granny," said Mona, growing desperate.  "I must get someone to come and
+help us, you must have the doctor, and I can't leave you alone, I am going
+to ask Mrs. Lane to come, I can't help it--I can't do anything else.
+I'll slip on my shoes and stockings, I won't be more than a minute."
+
+Granny Barnes stopped moaning, and raised herself on her elbow.
+"You'll do no such thing," she gasped.
+
+"But granny, I must--you must have help, and you must have somebody to go
+for the doctor, and--and, oh, granny, I'm afraid to be here alone,
+I don't know what to do, and you're looking so bad."
+
+"Am I?" nervously.  "Well--if I've got to die alone and helpless, I will,
+but I won't ask Mrs. Lane to come to me.  Do you think I'd--ask a favour
+of her, after all her unneighbourliness--not speaking to me for weeks and
+weeks----"
+
+Mona burst into tears, confession had to come.  "Granny," she said,
+dropping on her knees beside the bed.  "I--I've got to tell you
+something--Mrs. Lane was right----"
+
+"What!" Granny's face grew whiter, but she said no more.  If she had done
+so, if she had but spoken kindly and helped her ever so little, it would
+have made things much easier for poor Mona.
+
+"I--I--it was me that pulled the faggots down that night, and not Mrs.
+Lane's cats, and she won't look, or speak to me because I didn't tell,
+and I let her cats bear the blame.  I--I didn't mean to do any harm, I was
+in such a hurry to light up the fire, and the old things all rolled down,
+and I forgot to go out and pick them up again.  I didn't think you'd be
+going out there that night, but you went out, and--and fell over them.
+If you hadn't gone out it would have been all right, I'd have seen them in
+the morning and have picked them up."
+
+But Granny Barnes was not prepared to listen to excuses, she was very,
+very angry.  "And fine and foolish you've made me look all this time,
+Mona Carne, and risked my life too.  For bad as I was a little while back,
+I wouldn't bring myself to ask Mrs. Lane to come to me, nor Cap'en Lane to
+go and fetch the doctor, and--and if I'd died, well, you know who would
+have been to blame!"
+
+Granny's cheeks were crimson now, and she was panting with exhaustion.
+"Now what you've got to do is--to go in--and tell her the truth yourself."
+
+"I'm going," said Mona, the tears streaming down her face.  But as she
+hurried to the door, the sight of her, looking so childlike and forlorn in
+her nightgown, with her tumbled hair and tear-stained face, touched her
+grandmother's heart, and softened her anger.
+
+"Mona," she cried, "come back--never mind about it now, child----"
+But Mona was already in her own room tugging on her shoes and stockings.
+Granny heard her come out and make her way stumbling down the stairs;
+she tried to call again, but reaction had set in, and she lay panting,
+exhausted, unable to do anything but listen.  She heard Mona pulling back
+the heavy wooden bolt of the front door, then she heard her footsteps
+hurrying through the garden, growing more distant, then nearer as she went
+up Mrs. Lane's path.  Then came the noise of her knocking at Mrs. Lane's
+door, first gently, then louder, and louder still--and then the exhausted,
+over-excited old woman fainted, and knew no more.
+
+Mona, standing in the dark at Mrs. Lane's door, was trembling all over.
+Even her voice trembled.  When Mrs. Lane at last opened her window and
+called out "Who's there?" it shook so, she could not make herself heard
+until she had spoken three times.
+
+"It's me--Mona Carne.  Oh, Mrs. Lane, I'm so frightened!  Granny's very
+ill, please will you--come in?--I--I don't know what to do for her."
+
+"Mona Carne!  Oh!" Mona heard the surprise in Mrs. Lane's voice,
+and feared she was going to refuse her.  Then "Wait a minute," she said,
+"I'll come down."
+
+Mona's tears stopped, but she still trembled.  Help was coming to granny--
+but she still had her confession to make, and it seemed such an awful
+ordeal to face.  All the time she stood waiting there under the stars,
+with the scent of the flowers about her, she was wondering desperately how
+she could begin, what she could say, and how excuse herself.
+
+She was still absorbed, and still had not come to any decision, when the
+door behind her opened, and a voice said kindly, "Come inside, Mona, and
+tell me what is the matter," and Mona stepped from the starlit night into
+the warm, dimly lighted kitchen, and found herself face to face with her
+old kind friend.
+
+"Now, tell me all about it," said Mrs. Lane again catching sight of Mona's
+frightened, disfigured face.  "Why, how you are trembling, child, have you
+had a shock?  Were you in bed?"
+
+Mona nodded.  "Yes, I'd been in bed a good while when I heard a cry,
+such a funny kind of cry!  At first I thought it must be the owl, but when
+I heard it again and again I thought it must be granny, and I got up and
+went to her.  And, oh, I was frightened, she was lying all crumpled up in
+the bed, and she was groaning something dreadful.  She was very ill, she
+said, and she must have the doctor--but she wouldn't let me go to fetch
+him, 'cause she was afraid to be left alone.  I was frightened to be there
+by myself, and I didn't know what to do for her and I said I'd run in and
+ask you to come--but she said she'd rather die--she said I mustn't
+because--because--oh you know," gasped Mona, breathless after her
+outpouring of words, "and--and then--I--told her--about--about that--that
+'twas me pulled down the faggots, and you were right, and she looked--oh
+she looked dreadful, she was so angry!  And then I came in to tell you;
+and, oh Mrs. Lane, I am so sorry I behaved so, I--I never meant to,
+I never meant Tom and Daisy to have the blame.  And, please Mrs. Lane,
+will you forgive me, and speak to me again?  I've been so--so mis'rubble,
+and I didn't know how to set things right again."  But here Mona's voice
+failed her altogether, and, worn out with the day's events, and the
+night's alarm, and all the agitation and trouble both had brought,
+she broke down completely.  Mrs. Lane was quite distressed by the violence
+of her sobs.
+
+"There, there, don't cry so, child, and don't worry any more," she said
+gently, putting her arm affectionately round Mona's shaking shoulders,
+"It's all over now! and we are all going to be as happy and friendly again
+as ever we used to be.  Mona, dear, I am so glad, so thankful that you
+have spoken.  It hurt me to think that I had been deceived in you,
+but I know now that you were my own little Mona all the time.  There,
+dear, don't cry any more; we must think about poor granny.  Come along,
+we will see what we can do to help her."
+
+They stepped out into the starlit night, hand in hand, and though her
+grandmother's illness filled Mona with anxiety, she felt as though a heavy
+care had been lifted from her heart, a meanness from her soul; and, as she
+hurried through the scented gardens, she lifted up her face to the starry
+sky, and her heart to the God who looked down on her through Heaven's
+eyes.
+
+In the house, when they reached it, all was as she had left it, except
+that now a deep, deep silence reigned; a silence that, somehow, struck a
+chill to both hearts.
+
+"How quiet it is!  She was making such a noise before," Mona whispered,
+hesitating nervously at the foot of the stairs.
+
+"I expect she has fallen asleep, I'll go up first and see; you light the
+lamp in the kitchen, and bring me up a glass of cold water.  Or would you
+rather come with me?"
+
+"I--I will come with you."  She could not rid herself of the feeling that
+her granny was dead--had died angry with her, at the last.  She felt sure
+of it, too, when she saw her lying so still and white on her pillow.
+
+Mrs. Lane placed her hand over the tired, faintly-beating heart.
+"She is only faint," she said assuringly, a note of intense relief in her
+voice.  "She is coming round.  Run and fetch me some water, dear,
+and open that window as you pass."
+
+So granny, when she presently opened her eyes and looked about her,
+found Mona on one side of her and her old friend on the other; and both
+were looking at her with tender anxious eyes, and faces full of gladness
+at her recovery.
+
+The old feud was as dead as though it had never existed.
+
+"It's like going to sleep in a world of worries and waking up in a new
+one."  The poor old soul sighed contentedly, as she lay with the stars
+looking in on her, and the scent of the flowers wafting up to her through
+the open window.  "It was too bad, though, to be calling you up in the
+night--out of your bed.  I'm very much obliged to you, Mrs. Lane,
+I--I'm very glad to see you."
+
+"Not as glad as I am to come, I reckon," her neighbour smiled back at her,
+"we are all going to start afresh again from to-day, ain't we?  So it's as
+well to begin the day early, and make it as long as we can!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+Granny was much better, and was downstairs again, but she was weak and
+very helpless still.  She was sad too, and depressed.  The last few weeks
+had shaken her confidence in herself, her spirit was strong enough still,
+but more than once lately her body had failed her.  When, in her old way,
+she had said that she would do this, or that, or the other thing, she had
+found out after all, that she could not.  Her body had absolutely refused
+to obey her.
+
+"I ain't dependent on other folks yet!" she had said sharply, and had
+afterwards found out that she was, and the discovery alarmed her.
+It saddened her, and broke her spirit.
+
+"I ought to be in a home.  I'd rather be in one, or--or be dead, than be a
+burden on other folks," she moaned.
+
+Granny was very hard to live with in those days.  Even a grown-up would
+have found it difficult to know what to say in answer to her complainings.
+
+"Granny, don't talk like that!" Mona would plead, and she would work
+harder than ever that there might be nothing for granny to do, or to find
+fault with.  But however hard she worked, and however nice she kept
+things, she always found that there were still some things left undone,
+and that those were the very things that, in granny's opinion, mattered
+most.
+
+As for reading, or play-time, Mona never found any for either now, and oh,
+how often and how longingly her thoughts turned to the Quay, and to the
+rocks, and the games that were going on there evening after evening!
+Sometimes it almost seemed that she could hear the laughter and the calls,
+the voice of the sea, the rattle of the oars in the rowlocks, the cries of
+the gulls, and then she would feel as though she could not bear to be away
+from them all another moment.  That she must race back to them then and
+there; never, never to leave them any more!
+
+The loneliness, and the hard work, and the confinement to the house told
+on her.  She became thin, the colour died out of her cheeks, and the
+gladness from her eyes, and all the life and joyousness seemed to go out
+of her.  She grew, and grew rapidly, but she stooped so much she did not
+look as tall as she really was.
+
+Granny Barnes, looking at her sweeping out the path one day, had her eyes
+suddenly opened, and the revelation startled her.  She did not say
+anything to Mona, she just watched her carefully, but she did not again
+blame her for laziness; and while she watched her, her thoughts travelled
+backwards.  A year ago Mona had been noisy, lively, careless, but
+cheerful, always full of some new idea.  She had been round and rosy too,
+and full of mischief.  Now she was listless, quiet, and apparently
+interested in nothing.
+
+"Have you got a headache, Mona?"
+
+"No," said Mona indifferently, "I don't think so."
+
+"Is your back aching?"
+
+"It always is."
+
+"Then why didn't you say so, child?"
+
+"What's the good?  The work has to be done."
+
+"If you're bad you must leave it undone.  You can't go making yourself
+ill."
+
+"I ain't ill, and I'd sooner do the work.  There's nothing else to do."
+
+"Can't you read sometimes?  You used to be so fond of reading."
+
+"If I read I forget to do things, and then----"  She was going to say
+"there's a row," but she stopped herself just in time.  "I've read all my
+books till I know them by heart nearly."  Even while she spoke she was
+getting out the ironing cloth, and spreading it on the table.
+The irons were already hot on the stove.
+
+Granny Barnes did not say any more, but sat for a long time gazing into
+the fire, apparently deep in thought.  Mona looking up presently,
+attracted by the silence, was struck by her weary, drooping look, by the
+sadness of the tired old eyes.  But she did not say anything.
+Presently granny roused herself and looked up.  "Put away your ironing,
+child," she said kindly, "and go out and have a game of play.  The air
+will do you good."
+
+"I don't want to go out, granny.  There's no one to play with--and I'm
+afraid to leave you; what could you do if you were to faint again?"
+
+Granny sighed.  The child was right.  "I--I could knock in to Mrs. Lane,
+perhaps," she said, but there was doubt in her voice, and she did not
+press Mona any further.
+
+Mona went on with her ironing, and granny went on staring into the fire,
+and neither spoke again for some time.  Not until Mona, going over to take
+up a fresh hot iron, saw something bright shining on her grandmother's
+cheek, then fall on to her hand.
+
+"Are you feeling bad again, granny?" she asked anxiously.  The sight of
+the tear touched her, and brought a note of sympathy into her voice, and
+the sympathy in her voice in turn touched her granny, and drew both
+together.
+
+"No--I don't know that I'm feeling worse than usual, but--but, well I feel
+that it'd be a good thing if my time was ended.  I'm only a trouble and a
+burden now--no more help for anybody."
+
+"Granny! Granny!  You mustn't say such things!"  Mona dropped her iron
+back on the stove again, and threw herself on the floor beside her
+grandmother.  "You mustn't talk like that!  You're weak, that's all.
+You want to rest for a bit and have some tonics.  Mrs. Lane says so."
+
+"Does she?  I seem to want something," leaning her weary head against
+Mona's, "but it's more than tonics--it's a new body that I'm needing,
+I reckon.  I daresay it's only foolishness, but sometimes I feel like a
+little child, I want to be took care of, and someone to make much of me,
+and say like mother used to, 'Now leave everything to me.  I'll see to it
+all!'  It seems to me one wants a bit of petting when one comes to the end
+of one's life, as much as one does at the beginning--I don't know but what
+a little is good for one at any age."
+
+Mona slipped down till she sat on the floor at her granny's feet, her head
+resting against granny's knee.  "I think so too," she said wistfully.
+Silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire within
+and the buzz of insects, and the calling of the birds, outside in the
+garden.
+
+"Mona, how would you like it if we went into Seacombe to live?"
+
+Mona was up in a moment, her face alight with eagerness, but some instinct
+stopped her from expressing too much delight.  In the softened feeling
+which had crept into her heart, she realised that to her grandmother the
+move would mean a great wrench.
+
+"She must love Hillside as much, or _nearly_ as much as I love Seacombe,"
+she told herself.  Aloud she said, "I'd like it, but you wouldn't, would
+you, granny?"
+
+"I think I would.  I'd like to be nearer your father, and--and you would
+be happy there, and perhaps you'd feel stronger.  I'm getting to feel,"
+she added after a little pause, "that one can be happy anywhere, if those
+about one are happy.  Or, to put it another way, one can't be happy
+anywhere if those about one ain't happy."
+
+Mona felt very guilty.  "Granny," she said, but in rather a choky voice,
+"I'll be happy here, if you'd rather stay here--I will really.  I do love
+Hillside--it's only the sea I miss, and the fun, and--and the excitement
+when the boats come in--but I shall forget all about it soon, and I'll be
+happy here too, if you'd like to stay."
+
+She did try to put aside her own feelings, and speak cheerfully, and she
+succeeded--but, to her surprise, her grandmother did not jump at her
+offer.
+
+"No, child, I wouldn't rather stay.  I'd like to go.  I feel I want to be
+near my own, and your father and you are all I've got.  I think I'll ask
+him if he can find a little house that'll suit us."
+
+"Won't you live with us, granny? You can have my room."
+
+But granny would not hear of that.  "I've always had a home of my own, and
+I couldn't live in anybody else's," she said decisively.  "Your
+stepmother's too much of an invalid herself too, to be able to look after
+another."
+
+"Then you'd want me to live with you?" asked Mona, with a little break in
+her voice.  She was disappointed, but she tried not to show it.
+
+"Yes, dearie," her eyes scanning Mona's face wistfully, "wouldn't you like
+that?"
+
+Mona hesitated for only a second, then "Yes, granny, I should," she said,
+and then as the idea became more familiar, she said more heartily,
+"Yes, I'd love to, and oh, granny, if we could only get one of the little
+houses down by the Quay it would be lovely!  I'm sure you'd like it----"
+
+"I couldn't live down by the Quay," granny interrupted sharply,
+"I wouldn't live there if a house was given me rent free.  It is too
+noisy, for one thing, and you feel every breath of wind that blows."
+
+"But you're close, when the boats come in----"
+
+"Aye, and when they don't come in," said granny.  "I ain't so fond of the
+sea as you are, and I should never know any rest of mind down close by it.
+Every time the wind blew I'd be terrified."
+
+Mona looked vexed.  "It isn't often that there's any place at all to let,"
+she said crossly.  "If we don't take what we can get, we shall never go at
+all."
+
+But Granny Barnes was not alarmed.  "Don't you trouble yourself about
+that.  Your father'll find us something for certain.  He'd got his eye on
+a little place when he was here, he wanted me to take it then.  I almost
+wish I had, now.  Never mind, I'll write to him to-night or to-morrow.
+If I was well I would go in by John Darbie's van and have a look about for
+myself."
+
+All this sounded so much like business, that Mona sat up, all her glumness
+falling from her.  When Granny Barnes once made up her mind to do a thing,
+she did not let the grass grow under her feet.  There was, after all, much
+of Mona's nature in her, and when once she had made up her mind to leave
+her old home, it almost seemed as though she could not get away quickly
+enough.
+
+Perhaps it was that she felt her courage might fail her if she gave
+herself much time to think about things.  Perhaps she felt she could not
+face the pain and the worry if she gave herself time to worry much.
+ Or, it may have been that she really did feel anxious about Mona's health
+and her own, and wanted to be settled in Seacombe as soon as possible.
+
+At any rate she so managed that within a fortnight all her belongings were
+mounted on to two of Mr. Dodd's waggons and were carried off to the new
+home, while she and Mona followed in John Darbie's van, seen off by Mrs.
+Lane.  Mrs. Lane was very tearful and sad at parting with them.
+
+"I know it's for the best for both of you--but I feel as if I can't bear
+the sight nor the thought of the empty home."  Then she kissed them both,
+and stood in the road in the sunshine, waving her hand to them till they
+were out of sight.
+
+"Wave your handkerchief to her, Mona; blow another kiss to her, child."
+But granny kept her own head turned away, and her eyes fixed on the bit of
+white dusty road which lay ahead of them.  Neither could she bear the
+sight of the empty house, nor of the neighbour she was leaving.
+
+Mona's eyes were full of tears, but granny's were dry, though her sorrow
+was much deeper than Mona's.  John Darbie tactfully kept his tongue quiet,
+and his eyes fixed on the scenery.  He understood that his old friend was
+suffering, and would want to be left alone for a while.  So, for the first
+part of the way, they jogged along in silence, except for the scrunching
+of the gravel beneath the wheels, and the steady thud, thud of the old
+horse's hoofs, Granny Barnes looking forward with sad stern eyes, and a
+heart full of dread; Mona looking back through tears, but with hope in her
+heart; the old driver staring thoughtfully before him at the familiar way,
+along which he had driven so many, old and young; happy and sad, some
+willing, some unwilling, some hopeful, others despondent.  The old man
+felt for each and all of them, and helped them on their way, as far as he
+might travel it with them, and sent many a kind thought after them, which
+they never knew of.
+
+"I suppose," he said at last, speaking his thoughts aloud, "in every
+change we can find some happiness.  There's always something we can do for
+somebody.  So far as I can see, there's good to be got out of most
+things."
+
+Mrs. Barnes' gaze came back from the wide-stretching scene beside her, and
+rested enquiringly on the old speaker.  "Do 'ee think so?" she asked
+eagerly.  "'Tis dreadful to be filled with doubts about what you're
+doing," she added pathetically.
+
+"Don't 'ee doubt, ma'am.  Once you've weighed the matter and looked at it
+every way, and have at last made up your mind, don't you let yourself
+harbour any doubts.  Act as if you hadn't got any choice, and go straight
+ahead."
+
+"But how is anyone to know?  It may be that one took the way 'cause it was
+the easiest."
+
+"Very often it's the easiest way 'cause it's the way the Lord has opened
+for us," said the old man simply, and with perfect faith.  "Then I count
+it we're doubting Him if we go on questioning."
+
+The look of strained anxiety in Granny Barnes' eyes had already given way
+to one more peaceful and contented.
+
+"I hadn't thought of that," she said softly, and presently she added, "It
+takes a load off one's mind if one looks at it that way."
+
+Mona, who had been listening too, found John Darbie's words repeating
+themselves over and over again in her mind.  "There's always something we
+can do--there's good to be got out of most things."  They set themselves
+to the rhythm of the old horse's slow steps--"There is always something--
+there is always something--we can do--we can do, there is always something
+we can do."
+
+Throughout that long, slow journey on that sunshiny day they rang in her
+head, and her heart chanted them.  And though in the years that followed
+she often forgot her good resolutions, and many and many a time did wrong
+and foolish things, knowing them to be wrong and foolish, though she let
+herself be swayed by her moods, when she should have fought against them,
+she never entirely forgot old John Darbie's simple, comforting words, nor
+the lesson they had taught her that day, and unconsciously they helped her
+on her life's road, just as he himself helped her along her road to her
+new home.
+
+There was indeed a great deal that she could do, as she discovered
+presently, when the van deposited them and their parcels at the door of
+their new home, for the furniture had arrived but a couple of hours
+earlier, and though her father and the man had lifted most of the heavier
+things into their places, and Lucy had done all that she could to make the
+little house look habitable, there was much that Mona, knowing her
+grandmother's ways as well as she did, could do better than anyone else.
+
+As soon as the van drew near, Lucy was at the door to greet them, and in
+the warmth and pleasure of her welcome, Mona entirely forgot the
+circumstances under which they had last parted: and it never once occurred
+to her to think how different their meeting might have been had Lucy not
+been of the sweet-tempered forgiving nature that she was.
+
+Lucy had forgotten too.  She only remembered how glad she was to have them
+there, and what a trying day it must have been for poor old Granny Barnes.
+And when, instead of the stern, cold, complaining old woman that she had
+expected, she saw a fragile, pale-faced little figure, standing looking
+forlorn, weary, and half-frightened on the path outside her new home,
+Lucy quite forgot her dread of her, and her whole heart went out in
+sympathy.
+
+Putting her arms round her, she kissed her as warmly as though it had been
+her own mother, and led her tenderly into the house.
+
+"Don't you trouble about a single thing more, granny, there are plenty of
+us to see to everything.  The fire is burning, and your own armchair is
+put by it, and all you've got to do is to sit there till you're rested and
+tell us others what you'd like done."
+
+Granny Barnes did not speak, but Lucy understood.  She took up the poker
+and stirred the coals to a more cheerful blaze.  "It's a fine little stove
+to burn," she said cheerfully, "and it is as easy as possible to light."
+
+Granny was interested at once, "Is it?  How beautiful and bright it is.
+Did you do that, Lucy?"
+
+Lucy nodded.  "I love polishing up a stove," she said with a smile,
+"it repays you so for the trouble you take.  Don't you think so?"
+
+"Yes, I used to spend hours over mine, but I don't seem to have the
+strength now.  Mona does very well though.  Where's Peter?  Out fishing?"
+
+"No, he's upstairs putting up your bed.  He has nearly done.  Mona's is up
+already.  You've got a sweet little room, Mona.  You'll love it, I know."
+
+Mona ran upstairs at once to inspect.  She was bubbling over with
+excitement and happiness.  Her room was, she knew, at the back of the
+house, so she went to it straight.  It was in a great muddle, of course,
+but the bed was in place, and the chest of drawers.  The walls had been
+newly papered, the paper had little bunches of field daisies all over it,
+white and red-tipped, each bunch was tied with a blade of green grass.
+Mona thought it perfectly exquisite, but it was the window which took her
+fancy captive.  It was a lattice window, cut deep in the wall, and before
+it was a seat wide enough for Mona to sit in--and beyond the window was
+the sea!
+
+"I'll be able to sit there, and read, and sew, and watch the boats going
+by," she thought delightedly, "and I'll have little muslin curtains tied
+back with ribbons, and a flounce of muslin across the top.  Oh, I shall
+love it up here!  I shall never want to go out.  It's nicer even than my
+room at father's, and ever so much nicer than the 'Hillside' one!"
+
+A sound of hammering and banging came from the other side of the tiny
+landing.
+
+"That must be father, putting up granny's bed," she hurried out, and
+across to him.  He had just finished, and was pushing the bed into place.
+Two great bundles tied up in sheets filled up most of the rest of the
+floor.  One held Granny Barnes' feather-tie, the other her pillow-cases,
+sheets and blankets.
+
+"I do hope your grandmother'll be well and comfortable here," he said
+anxiously, "and happy.  If it rests with us to make her so, she shall be.
+Mona, you'd better make up her bed soon.  Don't leave it for her to do
+herself.  She'll most likely be glad to go to bed early to-night, she must
+be tired.  There's no moving round the room, either, with those great
+bundles there.  I'll lift the feather-tie on to the bed for you."
+
+"All right--in a minute, father."
+
+Granny's bedroom window looked out on the hill.  Further up the hill, on
+the opposite side, was Cliff Cottage.  It could be just seen from granny's
+new home.  How small and strange it all looked, thought Mona, and how
+narrow the hill was, but how homelike and beautiful.
+
+While she gazed out Millie Higgins and Philippa Luxmore appeared, they
+were coming down the hill together.  Millie had on a pink dress almost
+exactly like Mona's.
+
+"Why--why, she's copied me!" thought Mona indignantly, a wave of hot anger
+surging up in her heart.  "She's a regular copy-cat!  She can't think of a
+thing for herself, but directly anyone else has it, she must go and copy
+them.  I'd be ashamed if I was her.  Now I shan't like my pink frock any
+more!"
+
+As though attracted by the gaze on her, Millie looked up at the window,
+and straight into Mona's eyes, but instead of feeling any shame, she only
+laughed.  She may not have remembered her own frock, or Mona's, she was
+probably not laughing at Mona's annoyance, it is very likely that she was
+amused at something she and Philippa were talking about, but Mona thought
+otherwise, and only glared back at her with angry, contemptuous eyes.
+She saw Millie's face change, and saw her whisper in Philippa's ear,
+then she heard them both laugh, and her heart was fuller than ever of
+hatred, and mortification.  Mortification with herself partly, for
+allowing Millie to see that she was vexed.
+
+Oh, how she wished now, that instead of letting Millie see how she had
+annoyed her, she had acted as though she did not notice, or did not mind.
+
+"Mona, give me a hand here a minute, will you?"  Her father's voice broke
+in on her musings, "that rope is caught round the bedpost."
+
+Mona went over, and released the rope, but returned again to the window.
+
+"If you don't bustle round, little maid, we shall never be done," said her
+father.  "I want to get it all as right as I can before I go, or your
+grand-mother'll be doing it herself, and making herself ill again.
+You can look out of window another day, there'll be plenty of time for
+that."
+
+"I'm tired," grumbled Mona sulkily, "I can't be always working."
+
+Her father straightened his back, and looked at her.  His eyes were
+reproachful and grieved.  Mona's own eyes fell before them.  Already she
+was sorry that she had spoken so.  She did not feel in the least as she
+had said she did.  She was put out about Millie, and Millie's frock, that
+was all.
+
+"Mona, my girl," he said gravely, "you put me in mind of a weather-cock in
+a shifty wind.  Nobody can tell for half an hour together what quarter
+it'll be pointing to.  'Tis the shifty wind that does the most mischief
+and is hardest to bear with.  When you came in just now, I'd have said you
+were pointing straight south, but a few minutes later you've veered right
+round to the north-east.  What's the meaning of it, child?  What's the
+matter with 'ee.  It doesn't give 'ee much pleasure to know you're
+spoiling everybody else's, does it?"
+
+Mona gulped down her tears.  "No--o, I--I--it was Millie Higgins' fault.
+She's been and got a dress----"  And then she suddenly felt ashamed of
+herself, and ashamed to repeat anything so petty, and she gulped again,
+and this time she swallowed her bad temper too.  "No--I'm--I'm 'set fair'
+now, father!" she added, and, though there was a choke in her voice,
+as though her temper was rather hard to swallow, there was a smile in her
+eyes, and in a very little while granny's feather-bed was shaken up as
+soft and smooth as ever granny herself could have made it, and the bed was
+made up.  And then by degrees everything in the room was got into place
+just as its mistress liked it, so that when granny came up later on and
+saw her new room, she exclaimed aloud in pleased surprise:
+
+"Why, it looks like home already," she cried, "and that's our Mona's
+doing, I know!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Mona sat reading, curled upon the window seat in her bedroom.  She spent a
+great deal of her time there.  Sometimes sewing, but more often either
+reading, or looking out at the view.  For a few days she had been busy
+making curtains for her window, and a frill to go across the top, and,
+as granny had firmly refused to buy wide pink ribbon to fasten back the
+curtains, Mona had hemmed long strips of some of the print left over from
+her own pink dress.
+
+But all this was done now, and Mona was very proud of her handiwork.
+The frill was a little deeper on one side than the other, but that was a
+trifle.  Mona thought that the whole effect was very smart; so smart,
+indeed, that she sometimes wished that her window was in the front of the
+house, so that people going up and down the hill might see it.
+"But I s'pose one can't have everything," she concluded, with a sigh.
+
+Granny's window, which did look out on the hill, was anything but smart,
+for she had had neither time nor strength to make her curtains, and Mona
+had not offered to make them for her.
+
+Granny had gone up to Lucy's that very afternoon, and taken them with her,
+hoping to work at them a little while she talked.  She often went up to
+sit with Lucy.  Perhaps she found it dull at home, with Mona always shut
+up in her own room.  Lucy's garden delighted her too.  She had none
+herself that could compare with it.  In the front there was a tiny patch
+close under her window, and there was a long strip at the back, but only a
+very few things had the courage to grow there, for the wind caught it, and
+the salt sea-spray came up over it, and blighted every speck of green that
+had the courage to put its head out.  Lucy's garden and Lucy's kitchen
+both delighted her.  She said the kitchen was more cheerful than hers,
+but it was really Lucy's presence that made it so.  Lucy was always so
+pleased to see her, so ready to listen to her stories, or to tell her own,
+if granny was too tired to talk.  She always listened to her advice, too,
+which was quite a new experience to Mrs. Barnes.
+
+This afternoon, while granny was talking, and taking a stitch
+occasionally, Lucy picked up the other curtain and made it.  It was not a
+very big matter; all the windows in Seacombe houses were small.  Then she
+put on the kettle, and while it was boiling she took the other curtain
+from granny's frail hand and worked away at that too.  The weather was
+hot, and the door stood wide open, letting in the mingled scents of the
+many sweet flowers which filled every foot of the garden.  A sweet-brier
+bush stood near the window, great clumps of stocks, mignonette and
+verbenas lined the path to the gate.
+
+"I didn't mean to stay to tea," said granny, realizing at last that Lucy
+was preparing some for her.  "I was going to get home in time."
+
+"Mona won't have got it, will she?"
+
+"Oh, no, she won't think about it, I expect.  She has got a book, and when
+she's reading she's lost to everything.  I never knew a child so fond of
+reading."
+
+"You spoil her, granny!  You let her have her own way too much."
+
+Then they both laughed, for each accused the other of 'spoiling' Mona.
+
+"I don't like her to work too hard," said granny.  "She'd got to look very
+thin and delicate.  I think she's looking better, though, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, ever so much," Lucy reassured her, and granny's face brightened.
+
+Mona, meanwhile, went on reading, lost, as granny said, to everything but
+her book.  She did not even look out to sea.  She heard no sound either in
+the house or out.  Heart and mind she was with the people of the story.
+She was living their life.
+
+The baker came and knocked two or three times; then, opening the door,
+put a loaf on the table, and went away.  Then presently came more
+knocking, and more, but none of it reached Mona's brain.  She was flying
+with the heroine, and enjoying hairbreadth escapes, while running away
+from her wicked guardian, when her bedroom door was flung open, and Millie
+Higgins--not the wicked guardian--appeared on the threshold.
+
+Mona gave a little cry of alarm, then immediately grew angry with herself
+for having let Millie see that she had startled her.
+
+"What are you doing up here?" she demanded, bluntly.  "Who told you to
+come up? Granny isn't in, is she?"
+
+Millie laughed.  "If your grandmother had been in I should have been at
+the other end of the street by this time.  I've no fancy for facing
+dragons in their caves."
+
+"Don't be rude," retorted Mona, colouring with anger.  Millie always
+laughed at Mrs. Barnes, because she was old-fashioned in her dress and
+ways.  "How did you get in, and why did you come?  If granny didn't send
+you up, you'd no right to come.  It's like your cheek, Millie Higgins, to
+go forcing your way into other people's houses!"
+
+"It's like your carelessness to shut yourself up with a story-book and
+leave your front door open.  I ain't the first that has been in!
+Wouldn't your grandmother be pleased if she knew how trustworthy her dear,
+good little Mona was."
+
+Mona looked frightened, and Millie noticed it.  "What do you mean,
+Millie?"
+
+Millie had seen the baker come, knock, open the door, and leave again
+after depositing a loaf on the table.  She had also seen Mrs. Barnes
+comfortably settled in Lucy Carne's kitchen, and she determined to have
+some fun.  She loved teasing and annoying everyone she could.
+
+"Come down and see what they've done.  At any rate, you might be civil to
+anyone who comes in to warn you before any more harm is done."
+
+Mona, still looking alarmed, slipped from the window-seat and followed
+Millie down the stairs.
+
+While she stood at the foot of them, glancing about her anxiously, Millie
+stepped over and shut the house door.
+
+"Where?--What?--I don't see anything wrong," said Mona.  Millie burst into
+mocking laughter.  "I don't suppose you do!  Silly-billy, cock-a-dilly,
+how's your mother, little Mona! Why, how stupid you are! Anyone can get a
+rise out of you! I only wanted to frighten you and get you downstairs.
+You're going to ask me to tea now, and give me a nice one, too, aren't
+you?"
+
+Mona was trembling with mortification and anger.  "No, I am not," she
+said, "and if you don't go out of here in a minute I'll--I'll----"
+
+"Oh, no--you won't, dear.  You couldn't if you wanted to--but you don't
+really want to, I know.  Now poke up the fire and get me some tea.
+I hope you have something nice to eat."
+
+Mona stood by the dressers, her thoughts flying wildly through her brain.
+What could she do?  Millie was taller, older, and stronger than herself,
+so she could not seize her, and put her out by force.  Mona knew, too,
+that she would not listen to pleading or to coaxing.
+
+"Oh, if only someone would come!"  She made a move towards the door, but
+Millie was too quick for her, and got between her and it.
+
+"Millie, you've got to go away.  You'll get me into an awful row if you
+are found here, and--and I can't think how you can push yourself in where
+you ain't wanted."
+
+"Oh, fie!  Little girls shouldn't be rude--it shows they haven't been
+properly brought up."
+
+Mona did not answer.  She was trying to think what she could do.  If she
+went out of the house would Millie follow?
+
+Millie picked up a newspaper, and pretended to read it, but over the top
+of it she was watching Mona all the time.  She loved teasing, and she
+thought she had power to make younger girls do just as she wished.
+But Mona stood leaning against the dressers, showing no sign of giving in.
+
+Millie grew impatient.  "Wake up, can't you!" she cried, and, picking up a
+cushion from an armchair beside her, she threw it across the room at Mona.
+"I want my tea!"
+
+The cushion flew past Mona without touching her, but it fell full crash
+against the china on the dressers behind her.  Mona screamed, and tried to
+catch what she could of the falling things.  Cups, plate, jugs came
+rolling down on the top of those below.  What could one pair of small
+hands do to save them!
+
+The set, a tea-set, and her grandmother's most treasured possession, had
+been kept for a hundred years without a chip or a crack.  It had been her
+grandmother's and her great-grandmother's before that.
+
+Mona, white to the lips, and trembling, stood like an image of despair.
+Her hands were cut, but she did not notice that.  Millie was pale, too,
+and really frightened, though she tried to brazen it out.  "Now there'll
+be a fine old row, and you will be in it, Mona Carne.  It was all your
+fault, you know."
+
+But Mona felt no fear for herself yet.  She could think of nothing but her
+grandmother's grief when she learned of the calamity which had befallen
+her.  Somebody had to break the news to her, too, and that somebody would
+have to be herself.  Mona leaned her elbows on the dressers amongst the
+broken china and, burying her face in her hands, burst into a torrent of
+tears.
+
+Millie spoke to her once or twice, but Mona could not reply.  "Well, if
+she won't open her lips, I might as well go," thought Millie, and,
+creeping out of the front door, she hurried away down the hill, only too
+delighted to have got away so easily.
+
+Mona heard her go, but made no effort to stop her.  She felt too utterly
+miserable even to reproach her.
+
+Presently other footsteps came to the door, followed by a gentle knocking.
+Mona, in consternation, straightened herself and wiped her eyes.
+"Who can it be?  I can't go to the door like this!"  Her face was crimson,
+and her eyes were nearly closed, they were so swelled.
+
+The knock was repeated.  "Mona, may I come in?"  It was Patty Row's voice.
+Mona was fond of Patty, and she had begun to long for sympathy and advice.
+
+"Cub id," she called out as well as she could.  "Cub id, Paddy."
+Patty opened the door.  "What a dreadful cold you've got," she said,
+sympathetically.  "I've just seen your grandmother, and she asked me to
+tell you she's having tea with Lucy."  Mona turned and faced her.
+
+"Why!--Why! Mona!  Oh, my!  Whatever is the matter?"
+
+Mona's tears began again, nearly preventing her explanation.
+"Millie Higgins came in, and--and got teasing me, and--and----"
+
+"I've just seen her hurrying home," cried Patty.  "I thought she came out
+from here.  What has she done, Mona?  She's always bullying somebody."
+
+"She--she threw the cushion at me, 'cause--'cause I didn't get her some
+tea, and--oh, Patty, what shall I do?--just look at what she has done.
+That tea-set was more than a hundred years old, and--and granny thinks the
+world of it--and I've got to tell her."  Mona's voice rose to a pitiful
+wail.  "Oh, my.  I wish--I wish I was dead.  I wish----"
+
+"That'd only be another great trouble for her to bear," said wise little
+Patty, soberly.  "Millie ought to tell her, of course.  It's her doing.
+P'raps that is where she has gone."
+
+Mona shook her head.  She had no hope of Millie's doing that.
+
+"Well," said Patty, in her determined little way, "if she doesn't it
+shan't be for want of being told that she ought to."
+
+"She'll never do it," said Mona, hopelessly.  "I'll have to bear the
+blame.  I can't sneak on Millie, and--and so granny'll always think I did
+it."
+
+Patty pursed up her pretty lips.  "Will she?" she thought to herself.
+"She won't if I can help it," but she did not say so aloud.  "Let's sort
+it out, and see how much really is broken," she said, lifting off the
+fatal cushion.  "P'raps it isn't as bad as it looks."
+
+Mona shook her head despondently.  "It sounded as if every bit was
+smashed.  There's one cup in half, and a plate with a piece out--no, those
+jugs were common ones, they don't matter so much," as Patty picked up a
+couple, one with its handle off, the other all in pieces.  "Here's a cup
+without any handle--oh, poor granny, it'll break her heart, and--and
+she'll never forgive me.  I don't see how she can.  Oh, Patty!
+Did anybody in all the world ever have such a trouble before?"
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised," said Patty.  "There, that's the lot, Mona.
+It's bad enough, but not so bad as it seemed at first.  There's two cups,
+a plate, and a saucer of the set broken.  Two jugs, a basin, and a plate
+of the common things."
+
+She put the broken bits of the tea-set on the table, and began to arrange
+what was left on the dressers, so as to conceal the painful gaps.
+"There, it doesn't look so dreadful now.  What had we better do next,
+Mona?"
+
+Mona turned away and dropped into granny's big chair.  "I--I've got to
+tell her, that's what I'd better do next!" she cried.  She flung her arms
+out on the table, and buried her face in them, sobbing aloud in her
+misery.
+
+Patty, alarmed at her grief, went over and put her arms around her shaking
+shoulders.  "Mona!--Mona, dear, don't cry so.  You'll be ill.  I'll go and
+tell Mrs. Barnes about it, and--and I'll tell her it wasn't your fault."
+
+A slight sound made them both look towards the door--and they saw that
+there was no longer any need for anyone to break the news.  Granny Barnes
+knew it already.
+
+For what seemed to the two girls minutes and minutes, no one uttered a
+word.  Granny with wide eyes and stricken face, stood staring at her
+broken treasures, and the two girls stared at granny.  All three faces
+were tragic.  At last she came slowly forward, and took up one of the
+broken pieces.  Her poor old hands were shaking uncontrollably.
+
+Mona sprang to her, and flung her arms about her.  "Oh, granny, granny,
+what can I do?  It--was an accident--I mean, I couldn't help it.
+Oh, I'd sooner anything had happened to me than to your tea-set."
+
+Patty Row slipped out of the house, and gently closed the door behind her.
+She had meant to stay and speak up for Mona, but something told her that
+there would be no need for that.
+
+Poor Mrs. Barnes dropped heavily into her seat.  "I wouldn't then, dear.
+There's worse disasters than--than broken china."
+
+Mona's sobs ceased abruptly.  She was so astonished at her grandmother's
+manner of taking her trouble, she could scarcely believe her senses.
+"But I--I thought you prized it so, granny--above everything?"
+
+"So I did," said granny, pathetically.  "I think I prized it too much,
+but when you get old, child, and--and the end of life's journey is in
+sight, you--you--well, somehow, these things don't seem to matter so much.
+'Tis you will be the loser, dearie.  When I'm gone the things will be
+yours.  I've had a good many years with my old treasures for company,
+so I can't complain."
+
+Mona stood looking at her grandmother with a dawning fear on her face.
+"Granny, you ain't ill, are you?  You don't feel bad, do you?"
+
+Mrs. Barnes shook her head.  "No, I ain't ill, only a bit tired.
+It's just that the things that used to matter don't seem to, now,
+and those that--that, well, those that did seem to me to come second,
+they matter most--they seem to be the only ones that matter at all."
+
+Patty Row had done well to go away and leave the two alone just then.
+Granny, with a new sense of peace resting on her, which even the loss of
+her cherished treasures could not disturb, and Mona, with a strange
+seriousness, a foreboding of coming trouble on her, which awakened her
+heart to a new sympathy.
+
+"Why, child, how you must have cried to swell your eyes up like that."
+Granny, rousing herself at last out of a day-dream, for the first time
+noticed poor Mona's face.  "Isn't your head aching?"
+
+"Oh, dreadfully," sighed Mona, realizing for the first time how acute the
+pain was.
+
+"Didn't I see Patty here when I came in?  Where has she gone?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Patty didn't break the things, did she?"
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Did she tell you what she came about?"
+
+"To tell me you were having tea with mother."
+
+"But there was more than that.  She came to ask if you'd go to Sunday
+School with her on Sunday.  Her teacher told her to ask you.  You used to
+go, didn't you?  Why have you given it up?"
+
+Mona nodded, but she coloured a little.  "I thought the girls--all knew
+about--about my running away."
+
+"I don't think they do--but I don't see that that matters.  You'd like to
+go again, wouldn't you?"
+
+"Yes, I'd like to go with Patty.  Miss Lester's her teacher, and they've
+got a library belonging to their class.  You can have a book every week to
+bring home."  Mona's face grew quite bright, but a faint shadow had crept
+over granny's.
+
+"You read a lot, Mona.  So many stories and things ain't good for you.
+Do you ever read your Bible?"
+
+Mona looked surprised.  "N--no.  I haven't got it here.  It's up at
+Lucy's."
+
+Mrs. Barnes groaned.  "Oh, child, to think of our not having a Bible in
+the house between us!"
+
+"There's the Fam'ly Bible back there," said Mona, quickly, feeling
+suddenly that a house without a Bible in it was not safe.
+
+"Yes--but it's never opened, not even to look at the pictures.  If you had
+one in every room in the house you wouldn't be any the better for it if
+you never read them, and--and acted 'pon what you're taught there."
+
+"But if you can't see to read," said Mona, trying to find excuses,
+"what's the good of your having a Bible?"
+
+"But you can see, and can read too, and I could till lately, and, anyway,
+you can read to me, and that's what I ought to have got you to do.
+I feel I haven't done my duty by you, child."
+
+Mona threw up her head.  "I don't s'pose we're any worse than some that
+read their Bibles every day," she said, complacently.  She had often heard
+others say that, and thought it rather fine.
+
+"That's not for you or me to say," retorted granny sternly.  "That's the
+excuse folks always bring out when they ain't ashamed of themselves, but
+ought to be.  If we ain't any worse, we ain't any better, and until we are
+we've no right to speak of others; and if we are--why, we shouldn't think
+of doing so.  Most folks, though, who say that, do think themselves a deal
+better than others, though they don't say so in as many words."
+
+Mona stood staring into the fire, thinking matters over.  She was very apt
+to take things to herself, and she was trying to assure herself that she
+never did think herself better than others--not better even than Millie
+Higgins.  But she was not very well satisfied with the result.
+
+Granny's voice died away, the sun went down, and the room began to grow
+dim.  Two lumps of coal fell together, and, bursting into a blaze, roused
+Mona from her reverie.  She turned quickly, and found her grandmother
+gazing at the two halves of the broken tea-cup which she held in her
+hands.  In the light of the fire tears glistened on her cheeks.
+
+Mona felt a sudden great longing to comfort her, to make life happier for
+her.  "Granny, would you have liked me to have read some of my books to
+you sometimes?"
+
+"Very much, dearie.  I always loved a nice story."
+
+"Oh--why ever didn't you say so before."  The words broke from Mona like a
+cry of reproach.  "I didn't know, I never thought--I thought you'd think
+them silly or--or--something."
+
+"I know--it wasn't your fault.  Sometimes I think it'd be better if we
+asked more of each other, and didn't try to be so independent.  It's those
+that you do most for that you care most for--and miss most when they're
+gone!" added granny, half under her breath.
+
+Once again Mona was struck by the curious change in granny's tone and
+manner, and felt a depressing sense of foreboding.
+
+"Would you like me to read to you now, granny?  Out of--of the Bible?"
+She hesitated, as though shy of even speaking the name.
+
+"Yes, dearie, I'd dearly love to hear the 86th Psalm."
+
+Mona hurriedly lifted the big book out from under the mats and odds and
+ends that were arranged on its side.  She had never read aloud from the
+Bible before, and at any other time her shyness would have almost overcome
+her.  To-day, though, she was possessed with a feeling that in the Bible
+she would perhaps find something that would rouse and cheer granny, and
+charm her own fears away, and she was in a hurry to get it and begin.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Patty found Millie Higgins down on the Quay, where she was shouting and
+laughing with five or six others who were playing 'Last Touch.'
+No one would have guessed that she had left two sad and aching hearts and
+a ruined treasure behind her but half an hour ago.
+
+Patty, with a growing scorn in her eyes, stood by talking to Philippa
+Luxmore until the game had finished.  She meant not to lose sight of
+Millie until she had had her say.  Millie caught sight of Patty, though,
+and dashed into another game without any pause.  She did not know that
+Patty had come especially to speak to her, but she did not want to have
+anything to say to Patty--not for a while, at any rate.  She would rather
+wait until the events of the afternoon had been forgotten a little.
+
+Patty guessed, though, what her purpose was, and, after she had waited for
+another game to end, she went boldly up to her.
+
+"Millie," she said, without any beating about the bush, "I've come to ask
+you to go and tell Mrs. Barnes that it was you that broke her beautiful
+tea-set."
+
+Millie coloured, but she only laughed contemptuously.  The rest of the
+little crowd looked on and listened, open-mouthed.  "Dear me!  Have you
+really, Miss Poll Pry!  Well, now you have asked me you can go home again,
+and attend to your own affairs.  We don't want you here."
+
+Patty took no notice of her rudeness.  "Millie," she pleaded, "you will
+tell?  You won't let Mona bear the blame."
+
+"I don't know what you're talking about----"
+
+"Oh, yes, you do.  I saw you come out.  I mean, I thought that was where
+you came from.  I was just going in to speak to Mona myself, and I found
+her----"
+
+"Mona Carne's a sneak."
+
+"No, she isn't."
+
+"Well, she needn't tell her grandmother that she knows anything about it.
+It might have been the wind blew the things over, or a cat.  If I was Mona
+I'd go out to play, and let her come in and find the things."
+
+"Mona couldn't be so mean and underhand.  Mrs. Barnes knows about it
+already, too."
+
+"Then there's no need for me to tell her," retorted Millie, dancing away.
+"Ta-ta, Patty-preacher."
+
+Patty's patience gave out, she could not hide her disgust any longer.
+
+"Millie Higgins, I knew you were a bully and a coward, but I didn't know
+how mean a coward you were."
+
+Her voice rang out shrill with indignation, attracting the attention of
+everyone around.  The children stopped their play to stare; two or three
+people stopped their talk to listen.  They looked from Patty to Millie,
+and back again in shocked surprise.  Patty's voice was not so much angry
+as it was contemptuous, disgusted.  Millie could have better borne anger.
+People would then have thought Patty merely a cross child, and have passed
+on.  Instead of that they looked at her sympathetically, and at Millie
+askance.
+
+Millie walked away with her head in the air, but she was furious.
+"I'll pay her out!" she thought.  "I'll pay her out yet!"  She was so
+angry she could not get out a retort to Patty.  Her words seemed to catch
+in her throat and choke her.
+
+Patty walked away to the end of the Quay, and leaned out over the
+railings, looking towards the sea.  She was disheartened and angry,
+and ashamed of herself.  She was horribly ashamed of having called out
+like that to Millie.  It was a mean, common thing to do.  She felt she
+wanted to get out of sight, to escape the questions and chatter they would
+pour into her ears.  She would wait where she was until everyone else had
+gone home.  If anyone followed her, they would soon go away again when
+they found she would not talk to them.
+
+She got behind a tall stack of boxes, and turned her back on everyone.
+Her face was turned to the sea; her eyes gazed at the heaving waters,
+and the sun setting behind them, but her thoughts were with Mona.
+
+"How she did cry, poor Mona!  I didn't know she cared for her granny so
+much."  Then she wondered what they were doing at that moment, and how
+Mrs. Barnes was taking her loss.  By degrees the sun disappeared
+altogether, and twilight began to creep over her world.  Gradually the
+sounds of play and laughter and gossiping voices ceased.  One by one old
+folks and young went home.
+
+"I'd better go too," thought Patty, "or mother will be wondering where I
+am.  Oh, dear, there's my bootlace untied again!"  Still standing close to
+the edge of the Quay, she had stooped to tie the lace when, suddenly from
+behind, she received a blow in the back which sent her completely off her
+balance.  Reeling forward, she grabbed wildly at the rail to try and save
+herself, but missed it, and with a shriek of terror she fell over the edge
+and into the water below.  With another shriek she disappeared, and the
+water closed over her.
+
+Whence the blow came, or how, she had not time to think.  It seemed to her
+as though the sky had fallen and struck her.  She did not hear another cry
+which broke from someone's throat as her body disappeared, nor hear or see
+Millie Higgins running as though the police were already after her.
+
+Millie's first instinct was to get as far from the scene as possible.
+No one must know that she had been anywhere near the fatal spot.
+Then, fortunately, better and less selfish thoughts came to her.
+Patty was there alone in the deep cold water, in the dimness, fighting for
+her life.  If help did not come to her quickly she would die--and who was
+there to help but herself?
+
+"Patty!" she called.  "Patty! Where are you?"  Her voice rose high and
+shrill with terror.  "Oh, Patty, do speak!"
+
+Then up through the water came a small, dark head and white face, and
+then, to Millie's intense relief, a pair of waving arms.
+
+She was not dead, and she was conscious.  "Oh, thank God!" moaned Millie,
+and for perhaps the first time in her life she really thanked Him, and
+sent up a real prayer from the depths of her heart.
+
+"Patty," she called, "swim towards me.  I'll help you."
+
+Poor Patty heard her, but as one speaking in a dream, for her senses were
+fast leaving her.  Summoning up all the strength she had, she tried to
+obey, but she had only made a few strokes when she suddenly dropped her
+arms and sank again.
+
+With a cry of horror and despair, Millie rushed down and into the water.
+She could not swim, but she did not think of that now.  Nothing else
+mattered if she could but save Patty.  She waded into the water until she
+could scarcely touch the bottom with her feet.  A big wave came rolling
+in; one so big that it seemed as though it must carry her off her feet,
+and away to sea.
+
+It came, but it lifted her back quite close to the steps, and it brought
+poor little unconscious Patty almost close to her feet.
+
+Millie reached out and grabbed her by her hair and her skirt, and gripped
+her tight, but it was not easy.  Patty was a dead weight, and she had to
+keep her own foothold or both would have been carried away as the wave
+receded.  Millie felt desperate.  She could not raise Patty, heavy as she
+was in her water-soaked clothes, and Patty, still unconscious, could not
+help herself.
+
+Fortunately, at that moment, Peter Carne came rowing leisurely homewards,
+and in his boat with him was Patty Row's father.
+
+Millie caught sight of them, and a great sob of relief broke from her.
+She shouted and shouted at the top of her voice, and, clinging to Patty
+with one hand, she waved the other frantically.  "Would they see?
+Would they see?"  She screamed until she felt she had cracked her throat.
+"Oh, what a noise the sea made!" she thought frantically, "how could
+anyone's voice get above it."
+
+They heard or caught sight of her at last.  Her straining eyes saw the
+boat heading for them.  She saw Patty's father spring up and wave to them,
+then seize another pair of oars, and pull till the lumbering great boat
+seemed to skim the waves.  Then strong arms gripped them and lifted them
+into safety, and a moment or two later they were on the Quay once more,
+and hurrying homewards.
+
+Before she had been in her father's arms for many minutes Patty opened her
+big blue eyes, and looked about her wonderingly.
+
+"Where--am--I?" she asked, through her chattering teeth.
+
+"You're in your old dad's arms now," said her father, brokenly, but with
+an attempt at a smile, "but you'll be rolled up in blankets in a few
+minutes, and popped into bed.  It's where you have been that matters most.
+How did you come to be taking a dip at this time, little maid, and with
+your boots on too?"
+
+"I fell in," whispered Patty, and closed her eyes again as the tiresome
+faintness crept over her.
+
+"It was my fault," sobbed Millie, thoroughly subdued and softened,
+and slightly hysterical too.  "I--I didn't mean to push her into the
+water----"
+
+"It was an accident," said Patty, coming back out of her dreaminess.
+"I was stooping down--and overbalanced--that was all.  I was tying up my
+boot-lace."  And as she insisted on this, and would say nothing more,
+everyone decided that there was nothing more to say; and, as she had
+received no real injury, and was soon out and about again, the matter was
+gradually forgotten--by all, at least, but the two actors in what might
+have been an awful tragedy.
+
+Patty received no real injury, but it was a very white and tired little
+Patty who called on Mona on the following Sunday to go with her to Sunday
+School.
+
+Mona, having a shrewd suspicion that Patty could have told much more if
+she had chosen, was longing to ask questions, but Patty was not
+encouraging.
+
+"Did you think you were really going to die?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," said Patty, simply.
+
+"What did it feel like?  Were you----"
+
+"I can't tell you." Patty's voice was very grave.  "Don't ask me, Mona.
+It's--it's too solemn to talk about."
+
+When they reached the school-yard gate, Millie Higgins came towards them.
+"Then you're able to come, Patty!  I'm so glad."  There was real feeling
+in Millie's words.  Her voice was full of an enormous relief.  Mona was
+astonished.  She herself did not look at Millie or speak to her.  She had
+not forgiven her for that afternoon's work, and she more than suspected
+her of being the cause of Patty's accident.
+
+As Millie did not move away, Mona strolled across with Patty still
+clinging to her arm, to where a group of girls stood talking together.
+Millie Higgins, with a rush of colour to her face, turned away and joined
+another group, but the group apparently did not see her, for none of them
+spoke to her, and Millie very soon moved away again to where two girls
+stood together, but as she approached the two they hastily linked arms
+and, turning their back on her, walked into the schoolroom.  Mona noticed
+both incidents, and, beginning to suspect something, kept both eyes and
+ears open.  Her suspicions were soon confirmed.
+
+"I believe that all the girls are giving Millie the cold shoulder,"
+she whispered at last in Patty's ear.  "They must have planned it all
+before.  You just watch for a few minutes.  She has been up to ever so
+many, and then, as soon as they notice her, they move away.  I wonder
+what's the meaning of it?  Millie notices it herself.  You just look at
+her.  She's as uncomfortable as she can be."
+
+Patty raised her head sharply, and followed the direction of Mona's eyes.
+Millie was just joining on to a group of four or five.  Patty saw a glance
+exchanged, and two girls turned on their heels at once; then another, and
+another, until Millie, with scared face and eyes full of shame and pain,
+stood alone once more.  She looked ready to cry with mortification.
+
+Patty, her face rosy with indignation, called across the yard to her; her
+clear voice raised so that all should hear.  "Millie, will you come for a
+walk when we come out of school this afternoon?"  Then going over and
+thrusting her arm through Millie's, she led her back to where Mona was
+still standing.
+
+"Mona is going, too, ain't you, Mona?  I don't know, though, if we shall
+have much time for a walk; we're going to the Library to choose a book
+each.  Which do you think Mona would like?"
+
+But Millie could not answer.  The unkindness she had met with that morning
+and the kindness had stabbed deep; so deep that her eyes were full of
+tears, and her throat choked with sobs.  Mona, looking up, saw it, and all
+her resentment against her faded.
+
+"I wish you'd come, too, Millie, and help us choose," she said.  "You read
+so much, you know which are the nicest."
+
+"All right," said Millie, in a choked kind of voice.  "I'd love to."
+And then the doors opened, and they all trooped into their places.
+
+When they came out from the morning service each went home with her own
+people.  Patty, looking fragile and pale, was helped along by her father.
+Mona joined her father and grandmother.  She was quiet, and had very
+little to say.
+
+"Did you like your class?" asked granny.  She was a little puzzled by
+Mona's manner.  She had expected her to be full of excitement.
+
+"Yes, I liked it very much," but she did not add anything more then.
+It was not until evening, when they were sitting together in the
+firelight, that she opened her heart on the subject.  "I wish I'd known
+our teacher all my life," she said, with a sigh.
+
+"Why, dearie?"
+
+"Oh--I don't know--gran--but she makes you see things, and she makes you
+feel so--so--well as if you do want to be good, and yet you feel you want
+to cry."
+
+"Try and tell me what she said," said granny.  "Perhaps 'twould help an
+old body, too."
+
+But Mona could not do that, nor could she put her feelings into words very
+well.  "I'll read to you instead, if you'd like me to, granny."
+
+When Millie Higgins had come out of church she had walked rapidly
+homewards by herself.  Patty and her father had gone on.  Mona was with
+her father and grandmother, and Millie felt that she could not face Mrs.
+Barnes just then.  She was fighting a big fight with herself, and she had
+not won yet.  But in the afternoon, when they came out of the school
+library, the two walked together.  They took Patty home, because she was
+too tired to do any more that day.  Then Mona and Millie hesitated,
+looking at each other.  "I must go home, too," said Mona.  "I thought I'd
+have been able to go for a walk, but it's too late.  Granny'll be
+expecting me."
+
+Millie looked at her without speaking, half turned to leave her,
+hesitated, and finally walked on at Mona's side.  She seemed nervous and
+embarrassed, but Mona did not notice it.  She did not realize anything of
+the struggle going on in Millie's mind.  She was too much occupied in
+glancing at the pictures in her book, and reading a sentence here and
+there.
+
+"I'm longing to begin it.  I think granny'll like it too."
+
+Millie did not answer, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
+When they reached the house Mona stood for a moment without opening the
+door.  She was somewhat troubled in her mind as to what to do.  She did
+not want to ask Millie in, yet she was afraid of hurting her feelings by
+not doing so.  Millie stood, and did not say good-bye.  Her cheeks were
+flushed, and she was evidently very nervous.
+
+"May I come in?" she asked at last.  "Yes, do come inside."  Mona was a
+little surprised at Millie's daring, and not too well pleased, but she
+tried to speak cordially.  Opening the door, she went in first.
+"Granny, here's Millie Higgins come to see you.  She's been to school with
+Patty and me, and we've walked back together!"
+
+Mrs. Barnes was sitting in her chair by the fire.  "Well, Millie," she
+said kindly.  "It's a long time since I've seen you.  Sit down."
+Whether she suspected the truth neither of the girls could make out.
+Millie grew even redder in the cheeks, and looked profoundly
+uncomfortable.
+
+"I--I've come to say--" she burst out in a jerky, nervous fashion,
+"I--I came here on Wednesday--when you were out, and I--behaved badly--"
+She hesitated, broke down, looked at the door as though she would have
+dashed out through it, had it only been open, then in one rush poured out
+the words that had been repeating and repeating themselves in her brain
+all that day.
+
+"I'm very sorry I broke your beautiful set, Mrs. Barnes.  I'm--ever so
+sorry, I--don't know what to do about it----"
+
+Mona, guided by some sense of how she would have felt under the
+circumstances, had disappeared on the pretence of filling a kettle.
+She knew how much harder it is to make a confession if others are looking
+on and listening.
+
+"Oh!" said Mrs. Barnes, gravely, "was it you that broke my china?
+I didn't know."
+
+Millie stared with astonishment.  "Didn't--Mona tell you?" she gasped,
+quite taken aback.  She could scarcely believe her own ears.
+Granny Barnes shook her head.  "No, I didn't know but what she did it
+herself.  I believe little Patty did say that she didn't, but I was too
+upset to take in what was said.  My precious tea-set was broken, and it
+didn't seem to me to matter who did it."
+
+Millie was silent for a moment or so.  "Well, I did it," she said at last.
+"I threw a cushion at Mona, and it hit the china behind her!  I've felt
+dreadful about it ever since, and I--I didn't dare to come near you.
+I don't know what to do about it, Mrs. Barnes.  Can it be mended?" she
+added, colouring hotly again.  "I--I mean I've got some money in the bank.
+I'll gladly pay for it to be mended, if it can be."
+
+"I don't know, Millie.  Perhaps one or two bits can--but nothing can ever
+make the set perfect again."  Mrs. Barnes' voice quavered, and tears came
+into her eyes.  "But I wouldn't let you pay for it.  We won't talk any
+more about it--I can't.  P'raps I set too much store by the things."
+She got up from her seat, and stood, leaning heavily on the table.
+"It's all right, Millie.  I'm very glad you came and told me you did it.
+Yes, I'm very glad of that.  Now we'll try and forget all about it."
+
+Millie burst into tears, and moved away towards the door.
+
+"Stay and have some tea with Mona and me," Granny urged, hospitably.
+"Don't run away, Millie."
+
+But Millie felt that she must go.  She wanted to be alone.  "I--I think
+I'd rather not--not now, thank you.  I'll come--another day, if you will
+ask me."  Then she hurried out, and up the hill, thankful that it was
+tea-time, and that nearly everyone was indoors.  She quickly turned off
+the main road into a little frequented narrow lane, and by way of that to
+the wide stretch of wild land which crowned the top of the hill.
+She wanted to be alone, and free, to fight out her battle alone.
+
+"If I'd known Mona hadn't told--"  The mean thought would try to take root
+in her mind, but she weeded it out and trampled on it.  In her heart she
+was profoundly impressed by Mona's conduct, and she was glad, devoutly
+glad, that she had not been less honourable and courageous.  She could
+face people now, and not feel a sneak or a coward.
+
+In all her life after Millie never forgot her walk on that sunny summer
+evening.  The charm and beauty, the singing of the birds, the scent of the
+furze and the heather, the peace of it, after the storms she had lived
+through lately, sank deep into her soul.
+
+Her wickedness of the past week had frightened her.  "I felt I didn't care
+what I did, I was so wild with Mona.  I wonder I didn't do more harm than
+I did.  And then Patty, poor little Patty.  I nearly drowned her!
+Oh-h-h!"  She buried her face and shuddered at the remembrance.
+"I knew she'd fall into the water if I pushed her, so it was as bad as
+being a murderer.  If she had died--and she nearly did--I should have been
+one, and I should have been in jail now, and--oh, I _will_ try to be good,
+I _will_ try to be better!"
+
+Long shadows were falling across the road as she went down the hill,
+on her homeward way.  The flowers in Lucy Carne's garden were giving out
+their evening scent.  Lucy, standing enjoying them, looked up as Millie
+came along, and nodded.
+
+"Wouldn't you like a flower to wear?" she asked.
+
+Millie paused.  "I'd love one," she said, looking in over the low stone
+wall.  "I never smell any so sweet as yours, Mrs. Carne."
+
+Lucy gathered her a spray of pink roses, and some white jessamine.
+"There," she said, "fasten those in your blouse.  Isn't the scent
+beautiful?  I don't think one could do anything bad, or think anything
+bad, with flowers like those under one's eyes and nose, do you?"
+
+"Don't you?" questioned Millie, doubtfully.  "I don't believe anything
+would keep me good."
+
+Lucy looked at her in faint surprise.  It was not like Millie to speak
+with so much feeling.  "You don't expect me to believe that," she began,
+half laughing; then stopped, for there were still traces of tears about
+Millie's eyes, and a tremulousness about her lips, and Lucy knew that she
+was really in need of help.
+
+"I know that you've got more courage than most of us, Millie," she added
+gently.  "If you would only use it in the right way.  Perhaps my little
+flowers will remind you to."
+
+"I hope they will.  I wish they would," said Millie, fastening them in her
+coat.  "Goodbye."
+
+Before she reached her own home Millie saw her father out at the door
+looking for her.  As a rule, it made her angry to be watched for in this
+way, "Setting all the neighbours talking," as she put it.  But to-day her
+conscience really pricked her, and she was prepared to be amiable.
+Her father, though, was not prepared to be amiable.  He had got a
+headache, and he wanted his tea.  He had been wanting it for an hour and
+more.
+
+"Where have you been gallivanting all this time, I'd like to know.
+I'll be bound you've been a may-gaming somewhere as you didn't ought to on
+a Sunday, your dooty to me forgotten."
+
+To Millie this sounded unjust and cruel.  She had let her duties slip from
+her for a while, but she had been neither may-gaming nor wasting her time.
+Indeed, she had been in closer touch with better things and nobler aims
+than ever in her life before, and in her new mood her father's words
+jarred and hurt her.  An angry retort rose to her lips.
+
+"I haven't been with anybody," she replied sharply.  "I've been for a walk
+by myself, that's all.  It's hard if I can't have a few minutes for myself
+sometimes."  But, in putting up her hand to remove her hat, she brushed
+her flowers roughly, and her angry words died away.  In return for a blow
+they gave out a breath of such sweetness that Millie could not but heed
+it.  "I--I was thinking, and I forgot about tea-time," she added in a
+gentler voice.  "But I won't be long getting it now, father."
+
+While the kettle was coming to the boil she laid the cloth and cut some
+bread and butter; then she went to the larder and brought out an apple
+pie.  With all her faults, Millie was a good cook, and looked after her
+father well.
+
+He looked at her preparations approvingly, and his brow cleared.
+"You're a good maid, Millie," he said, as he helped the pie, while Millie
+poured out the tea.  "I'm sorry I spoke a bit rough just now.  I didn't
+really mean anything.  I was only a bit put out."
+
+Millie's heart glowed with pride and pleasure.  "That's all right,
+father," and then she added, almost shyly, "I--I'd no business to--to
+forget the time, and stay out so long."  It was the first time in her life
+she had admitted she was wrong when her father had been vexed with her and
+given her a scolding.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Lucy Carne knocked at Granny Barnes' door, and waited.  She had a little
+nosegay of flowers in her hand and a plate of fresh fish. Almost every day
+she brought granny something, even if it was only a simple flower, and
+granny loved her little 'surprises.'
+
+Lucy waited a moment, hearing a voice inside, then she knocked again, and
+louder.
+
+"I do believe Mona's reading to her again, and they've forgotten their
+tea!"
+
+Getting no answer even now, Lucy opened the door a little way and popped
+her head in.  "May I come in?  I don't know what world you two are living
+in to-day, but I knocked twice and I couldn't reach you."
+
+Mona carefully placed the marker in her book and closed it, but
+reluctantly.  Miss Lester, her Sunday School teacher, had given her the
+marker.  It was a strip of ribbon with fringed ends, and with her name
+painted on it, and a spray of white jessamine.  Every girl who had joined
+the library had had one.  Some were blue, some red, some white, and the
+rest orange colour.  Mona's was red.  She was glad, for she liked red, and
+the delicate white flower looked lovely on it, she thought.  Miss Lester
+had painted them herself, and the girls prized them beyond anything.
+
+Mona's eyes lingered on hers as she closed the book.  It was rather hard
+to have to leave her heroine just at that point, and set about getting
+tea.  She did wish Lucy had not come for another ten minutes.
+
+Granny looked up with a little rueful smile.  "I felt it was tea-time,"
+she said, "but I thought Mona would like to finish out the chapter, and
+then before we knew what we were doing we had begun another.  It's a
+pretty tale.  I wish you had been hearing it too, Lucy.  It's called
+'Queechy.'  A funny sort of a name, to my mind."
+
+"'Queechy'!--why, I read that years ago, and I've read it again since I've
+been married.  I borrowed it from mother when I was so ill that time.
+Mother had it given to her as a prize by her Bible-class teacher.
+She thinks the world of it.  So do I.  I love it."
+
+"I'm longing to get to the end," said Mona, turning over the pages
+lingeringly.  "There's only three chapters more."
+
+"Oh, well, that's enough for another reading or two," said Granny.
+"They are long chapters.  It would be a pity to hurry over them just for
+the sake of reaching the end.  We'll have a nice time to-morrow, dearie.
+I shall be sorry when it's all done."
+
+But Mona was impatient.  "To-morrow!  Nobody knows what may happen before
+to-morrow.  Something is sure to come along and prevent anybody's doing
+what they want to do," she said crossly.
+
+Granny looked at her with grieved eyes.  "I think you generally manage to
+do what you want to, Mona," she said, gravely.  "I don't think you can
+have profited much by what you've read," she added, and turned to Lucy.
+
+Mona laid down her book with a sigh.  "It's much easier to read about
+being good than to be good oneself," she thought.
+
+Lucy came in from the scullery with a vase full of water.  "I'll have a
+few nice flowers for you to take to Miss Lester on Sunday, Mona, if you'll
+come and fetch them."
+
+"Thank you," said Mona, but she looked and spoke glumly.  She was still
+vexed with Lucy for coming in and interrupting them.  She did not know
+that Lucy came in at meal-times just to make sure that granny had her
+meals, for Mona thought nothing of being an hour late with them if she was
+occupied in some other way.
+
+"Don't trouble about it, if you don't care to have them," Lucy added
+quietly.  And Mona felt reproved.
+
+"I'd like to," she said, looking ashamed of herself.  "Miss Lester loves
+having flowers.  I'll run up on Saturday evening for them, mother.
+They'll be better for being in water all night."
+
+"That's right.  Now, I'll cook the fish while you lay the cloth. Granny'll
+be fainting if we don't give her something to eat and drink soon.  I
+should have been down before, but I had to see father off."
+
+"Will he be out all night?" Granny asked, anxiously.  She never got over
+her dread of the sea at night.
+
+"Yes.  If they get much of a catch they'll take it in to Baymouth to land.
+The 'buyers' will be there to-morrow.  I'm hoping Peter'll be back in the
+afternoon.  These are fine whiting.  You like whiting, don't you, mother?"
+
+"Yes, very much.  It's kind of you to bring them.  I feel now how badly I
+was wanting my tea.  You'll have some with us?"
+
+"I think I will.  I was so busy getting Peter off that I didn't have
+anything myself."
+
+Mona laid the cloth with extra care.  Lucy's vase of stocks stood at one
+corner.  Though it was August, the wind was cold, and the little bit of
+fire in the grate made the kitchen very pleasant and cosy.
+
+"I've got a bit of news for you, Mona," said Lucy, coming back from
+putting away the frying-pan.  "Mrs. Luxmore told me that Miss Lester is
+engaged.  Had you heard it?"
+
+"Oh, no!  What, my Miss Lester?  Miss Grace?"  Mona was intensely
+interested.  "Oh, I am so glad.  Who is she engaged to, mother?"
+
+"Why, Dr. Edwards!  Isn't it nice!  Doesn't it seem just right?" Lucy was
+almost as excited as Mona.  "I am so glad she isn't going to marry a
+stranger, and leave Seacombe."
+
+"Can it be true! really true?"
+
+"It's true enough.  Mrs. Luxmore told me.  Her husband works two days a
+week at Mrs. Lester's, and Mrs. Lester told him her very own self. So it
+must be true, mustn't it?"
+
+Mona's thoughts had already flown to the wedding.  "We girls in Miss
+Grace's class ought to give her a wedding present.  What would be a nice
+thing to give her?  And, oh, mother!"  Mona clapped her hands in a fresh
+burst of excitement.  "I wonder if she will let us all go to the wedding
+and strew roses in her path as she comes out of the church--"
+
+"It'll depend a good deal on what time of the year the wedding is to be,"
+remarked granny, drily.  But Mona's mind was already picturing the scene.
+
+"We ought all to be dressed in white, with white shoes and stockings, and
+gloves, and some should wear pink round their waists and in their hats,
+and the rest should have blue, and those that wear pink should throw white
+roses, and those that wear blue should throw pink roses. Wouldn't it look
+sweet?  I'd rather wear blue, because I've got a blue sash."
+
+A door banged upstairs, and made them all jump.  "Why, how the wind is
+rising!" said Lucy, in a frightened voice.  She hurried to the window and
+looked out anxiously.  "Oh, dear! and I was hoping it was going to be
+pretty still to-night."
+
+"What I'd give if Peter was a ploughman, or a carpenter!" cried granny,
+almost irritably.  "I don't know how you can bear it, Lucy, always to have
+the fear of the sea dogging you day and night!" Her own face had grown
+quite white.
+
+"I couldn't bear it," said Lucy quietly, "if I didn't feel that wherever
+he is God's hand is over him just the same."  She came back and stood by
+the fire, gazing with wistful eyes into its glowing heart.
+
+"But sailors and fishermen do get drowned," urged Mona, putting her fears
+into words in the hope of getting comfort.
+
+"And ploughmen and carpenters meet with their deaths, too.  We've got our
+work to do, and we can't all choose the safest jobs.  Some must take the
+risks.  And no matter what our work is, death'll come to us all one day.
+Some of us who sit at home, die a hundred deaths thinking of those
+belonging to us and the risks they are facing."
+
+Then, seeing that granny was really nervous, Lucy led the talk to other
+things, though, in that little place, with nothing to break the force of
+the wind, or deaden the noise of the waves, it was not easy to get one's
+mind away from either.  "I don't suppose it is very bad, really," said
+Lucy, comfortingly.  "It always sounds a lot here, but the men laugh at me
+when I talk of 'the gale' blowing.  'You must wait till you hear the real
+thing,' they say.  But I tell them I have heard the real thing, and it
+began quietly enough.  Now, Mona, you and I will put away the tea things,
+shall we?"
+
+"You won't go home before you really need to, will you?" asked granny.
+"It'll be a long and wearying time you'll have alone there, waiting for
+morning.  Oh, I wish it was morning now," she added, almost passionately,
+"and the night over, and the storm.  I do long for rest."
+
+Lucy looked at her anxiously, surprised by the feeling in her voice. "Why,
+mother! you mustn't worry yourself like that.  It's nothing of a wind yet,
+and it may die down again quite soon.  I think it was a mistake letting
+you come to live on this side of the road, where you feel the wind so much
+more.  If I were you I'd move up nearer to us the first time there's a
+place to let.  You feel just as I do about the storms, and it's only those
+that do who understand how hard it is to bear."
+
+Granny nodded, but she did not answer.  She turned to Mona. "Wouldn't you
+like to go for a run before bedtime?" she asked. "The air'll do you good,
+and help you to sleep."
+
+"I didn't want her to get nervous just before bedtime," she confided to
+Lucy when Mona had gone.  "I try not to let her see how nervous I get--but
+sometimes one can't help but show it."
+
+Mona did not need any urging.  Her thoughts were full of Miss Lester's
+coming marriage and her own plans for it, and ever since she had heard the
+news she had been longing to go out and spread it and talk it over.
+
+"Patty ought to wear blue, to match her eyes; Millie will be sure to
+choose pink, she has had such a fancy for pink ever since she had that
+print frock."
+
+But when she reached the Quay she met with disappointment.  There was
+hardly anyone there but some boys playing 'Prisoners.'  Certainly it was
+not very tempting there that evening, the wind was cold and blustery, and
+both sea and sky were grey and depressing.  Mona was glad to come away
+into the shelter of the street.
+
+She looked about her for someone to talk to, but, seeing no one, she made
+her way home again.  It was very aggravating having to keep her great
+ideas bottled up till morning, but it could not be helped. When she
+reached home again, Lucy was still there, but she had her hat on ready to
+start.
+
+"I wish you hadn't to go," said Granny Barnes, wistfully.  "I wish you
+could stay here the night."
+
+Lucy looked at her anxiously.  "Are you feeling very nervous, mother?
+Would you rather I stayed?  I will if you wish."
+
+"No,--oh, no," granny protested, though she would have liked it above all
+things.  "I wasn't thinking about myself; I was thinking about you, up
+there all alone."
+
+"Oh, I shall be all right.  I am getting used to it.  Now you go to bed
+early, and try to go to sleep, then you won't notice the weather. You are
+looking dreadfully tired.  Good night--good night, Mona."
+
+"I think I'll do as Lucy said," said granny a little while later. "I'm
+feeling tireder than ever in my life before.  If I was in bed now this
+minute, I believe I could sleep.  If I once got off I feel as if I could
+sleep for ever."  And by half-past eight the house was shut up, and they
+had gone to bed.
+
+Granny, at least, had gone to bed, and had fallen almost at once into a
+heavy slumber.  Mona was more wakeful.  The news of her teacher's
+engagement had excited her, and not having been able to talk it out, her
+brain was seething with ideas.
+
+She put out her candle, drew back her curtains, and looked out into the
+gathering darkness.  An air of gloom and loneliness reigned over
+everything.  Far out she could see white caps on the waves, but not a
+boat, or vessel of any kind.  The sky looked full and lowering.
+
+With a little shiver Mona drew her curtains again and relighted her
+candle.  As it flickered and burnt up, her eyes fell on the book so
+reluctantly put aside until to-morrow.
+
+"Oh, I wish I could have just a little read," she thought, longingly.
+"Just a look to see what happens next."
+
+She took up the book and opened it, glancing over the chapters she had
+read--then she turned to the one she and granny were going to read
+to-morrow.  Her eyes travelled greedily over a few paragraphs, then she
+turned the page.  Presently she grew tired of standing, and sat on the
+side of the bed, lost to everything but the pages she was devouring
+hungrily.  The wind blew her curtains about, the rain drove against the
+panes, but Mona did not heed either.  She had drawn herself up on the bed
+by that time and, leaning up against her pillows, was reading comfortably
+by the light of the candle close beside her.  She was miles away from her
+real surroundings, and driving with Fleda in England, and no other world
+existed for her.
+
+Her eyelids growing heavy, she closed them for a moment.  She didn't know
+that she had closed them, and imagined she was still reading. She was very
+surprised, though, presently, to find that what she thought she had been
+reading was not on the open pages before her. She rubbed her tiresomely
+heavy lids and looked again; then she raised herself on her elbow and
+began again at the top of the mysterious page, and all went well for a
+paragraph or two.  Fleda was walking now alone, through a grassy glade.
+Oh, how lovely it was--but what a long walk to be taking in such a high
+wind.  Mona forced open one eye, and let the other rest a moment.  "The
+trees sometimes swept back, leaving an opening, and at other places,"
+stretched--stretched, yes it was, "stretched their branches over,"--over
+--but how the wind roared in the trees, and what a pity that someone
+should have had a bonfire just there, the smell was suffocating--and the
+heat!  How could she bear it!  And, oh, dear!  How dazzling the sun was--
+or the bonfire; the whole wood would be on fire if they did not take care!
+Oh, the suffocating smoke!
+
+Mona--or was she Fleda?--gasped and panted.  If relief did--not--come
+soon--she could not draw--another breath.  She felt she was paralysed--
+helpless--dying--and the wind--so much--air--somewhere--she was trying
+to say, when suddenly, from very, very far away she heard her own name
+being called.  It sounded like 'Mona'--not Fleda--and--yet, somehow she
+knew that it was she who was meant.
+
+"Oh--what--do they--want!" she  thought wearily.  "I can't go. I'm----"
+
+"Mona! Mona!"  She heard it again; her own name, and called frantically,
+and someone was shaking her, and saying something about a fire, and then
+she seemed to be dragged up bodily and carried away. "Oh, what rest! and
+how nice to be out of that awful heat--she would have--died--if--if--"
+Then she felt the cold air blowing on her face, the dreadful dragging pain
+in her chest was gone, she could breathe! She opened her eyes and looked
+about her--and for the first time was sure that she was dreaming.
+
+The other was real enough, but this could only be a dream, for she was
+lying on the pavement in the street, in the middle of the night, with
+people standing all about staring down at her.  They were people she knew,
+she thought, yet they all looked so funny.  Someone was kneeling beside
+her, but in a strange red glow which seemed to light up the darkness, she
+could not recognise the face.  Her eyelids fell, in spite of herself, but
+she managed to open them again very soon, and this time she saw the black
+sky high above her; rain fell on her face.  The red glow went up and down;
+sometimes it was brilliant, sometimes it almost disappeared, and all the
+time there was a strange crackling, hissing noise going on, and a horrible
+smell.
+
+By degrees she felt a little less dazed and helpless.  She tried to put
+out her hands to raise herself, but she could not move them. They were
+fastened to her sides.  She saw then that she was wrapped in a blanket.
+
+"What--ever--has happened!" she asked sharply.
+
+"There has been an accident--a fire.  Your house is on fire--didn't you
+know?"
+
+"Fire!--our house--on fire!"  Mona sat upright, and looked about her in a
+bewildered way.  Could it be that she was having those dreadful things
+said to her.  She had often wondered how people felt, what they thought--
+what they did, when they had suddenly to face so dreadful a thing.
+
+"Where's granny?" she asked abruptly--almost violently.
+
+There was a moment's silence.  Then Patty Row's mother said in a
+breathless, hesitating way, "Nobody--no one knows yet, Mona. Nor how the
+house was set on fire," she added, hastily, as though anxious to give Mona
+something else to think of.  "Some say the wind must have blown down the
+kitchen chimney and scattered some red-hot coals about the floor."
+
+"But 'twas the top part of the house that was burning first along," broke
+in old Tom Harris.  "Mrs. Carne saw smoke and fire coming through the
+bedroom windows and the roof."
+
+"The top part!--where granny was sleeping!"  Mona threw open the blanket
+and struggled to her feet.  "Oh, do stop talking, and tell me--hasn't
+anyone found granny?"  Her question ended almost in a scream.
+
+"They--they're getting her----" said somebody.  The rest preserved an
+ominous silence.
+
+"There's a chain of men handing up buckets of water through the back
+garden," said someone else, as though trying to distract her thoughts.
+"They'll soon get the fiercest of the fire down."
+
+"But--but think of granny.  We can't wait for that.  She's in the fire all
+this time.  She was in bed.  Hasn't anyone been to her? Oh, they must
+have.  They can't have left her--an old woman--to save herself!"
+
+Mona was beside herself with the horror of the thing.
+
+"They tried," said Mrs. Row, gently, "but they were beaten back.
+Mrs. Carne tried until she was--There!  She's gone--Mona's gone!"
+Her explanation ended in a scream.  "Oh, stop her--somebody, do, she'll be
+killed."
+
+"It'd have been sensibler to have told her the truth at once," said Tom
+Harris, impatiently.  "She's got to know, poor maid.  Now we shall have
+another life thrown away, more than likely, and Mrs. Carne with a broken
+leg, and nobody knows what other damage."
+
+Slipping through the crowd in the darkness, Mona, in a perfect frenzy of
+fear, dashed into the house.  All she was conscious of was hot anger
+against all those who stood about talking and looking on and doing
+nothing, while granny lay helpless in her bed suffocating, perhaps
+burning; were they mad!--did they want granny to die?--didn't they care,
+that no one made any attempt to save her.  Through the semi-darkness, the
+haze of smoke and steam, she heard people, and voices, but she could not
+see anyone.  The heat was fearful, and the smell of burning made her feel
+sick.
+
+She groped her way stumblingly through the kitchen.  The furniture seemed
+to her to be scattered about as though on purpose to hinder her, but she
+kept along by the dressers as well as she could. They would be a guide,
+she thought.  "Poor tea-set!  There will be little of it left now."
+Her fingers touched something soft. Lucy's stocks, still in the vase.
+At last she found herself at the foot of the staircase.  The door was
+closed.  Someone had wisely shut it to check the rush of air up it.
+After a struggle, Mona managed to open it again, and fell back before the
+overpowering heat and the smoke which choked and blinded her.  She clapped
+her hand over her nose and mouth, and crouching down, dragged herself a
+little way up, lying almost flat on her face, she was so desperate now
+with the horror of it all, beside herself.  Ahead of her was what looked
+like a blazing furnace.  All around her was an awful roaring, the noise of
+burning, broken into every now and again by a crash, after which the red
+light blazed out brighter, and the roaring redoubled.
+
+How could anyone live in such a furnace.  An awful cry of despair broke
+from her parched throat.  "Granny!" she screamed.  "Oh, granny! Where are
+you?  I can't reach--"  Another crash, and a blazing beam fell across the
+head of the burning staircase.
+
+"Granny! Oh, God save my----"  But before she could finish she was seized
+by strong arms and lifted up, and then darkness fell on her brain, and she
+knew no more.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+When poor Lucy Carne next opened her eyes and came back with a sigh to the
+horrors and suffering of which she had for a time been mercifully
+unconscious, her first thought was for her husband.
+
+"Has the boat come in?  Did the storm die down?--or did it get worse?
+Has anyone heard or seen anything of my husband?"  She panted feebly.
+But before they could answer her, she had floated off again into a
+troubled delirium.
+
+"Oh, the wind!  Oh, the awful wind!" she kept on repeating.  "Oh, can't
+anything stop it!  It's fanning the flames to fury; it's blowing them
+towards granny's room.  Oh, the noise--I must find her--I must save her--
+she's so feeble.  Oh, granny! Granny!"  Her voice would end in a scream,
+followed by a burst of tears; then she would begin again.
+
+Once or twice she had recovered consciousness, and then had asked for her
+husband or Mona.  "Is she badly hurt?--will she get over it?"
+
+The nurse soothed and comforted her, and did all she could.  "She isn't
+conscious yet, but they think she will be soon.  She's got slight
+concussion, and she has cut herself a bit--but she will do all right if
+she gets over the shock.  They are keeping her very quiet; it is the only
+way.  You must try not to scream and call out, dear.  For if she began to
+come round and heard you, it might be very, very serious for her."
+
+After that Lucy lay trying hard to keep fast hold of her senses.
+"Don't let me scream!" she pleaded.  "Put something over my head if I
+begin.  I can keep myself quiet as long as I have my senses--but when they
+drift away--I--don't know what I do.  I didn't know I made a noise.
+Oh--h--h!" as some slight movement racked her with pain.
+
+"Poor dear," said Nurse.  "I expect you're feeling your bruises now, and
+your leg."
+
+"I seem to be one big lump of pain," sighed poor Lucy.  "But I don't mind
+if only Mona pulls through, and Peter is safe.  Oh, my poor husband--what
+a home-coming!"
+
+"Now try not to dwell on it.  You'll only get yourself worse, and for his
+sake, poor man, you ought to try and get well as fast as you can.
+There, look at those flowers Patty Row has brought you.  Aren't they
+sweet!"
+
+"Oh, my!" Lucy drew in deep breaths of their fragrance.  "Stocks, and
+sweet-brier--oh, how lovely!  They'll help to take away the--smell of the
+burning."  Then her mind seemed to float away again, but not this time
+through a raging furnace, but through sweet-scented gardens, and sunlight,
+and soft pure air.
+
+When she came back to the hospital ward again, Nurse smiled at her with
+eyes full of pleasure.  "I've good news for you," she said, bending low,
+so that her words might quite reach the poor dazed brain.  "Your husband
+is safe!"
+
+"Oh, thank God!  Thank God!"  Her eyes swam in tears of joy.  "Does--he
+know?" she asked a moment later, her face full of anxiety.  The thought of
+his sad home-coming was anguish to her.
+
+Nurse nodded.  "Yes, dear, he knows.  The Vicar went to Baymouth by the
+first train and brought him back.  He did not want him to have the news
+blurted out to him without any preparation."
+
+"How very kind!  How is he?  Peter, I mean.  Is he feeling it very badly?
+Oh, I wish I could be there to help him, to comfort him.  He'll be so
+lonely--and there will be so much to do."
+
+"My dear, he won't want for help.  Everyone is ready and anxious to do
+what they can.  Of course, he is upset.  He wouldn't be the man he is if
+he wasn't.  It is all a terrible shock to him!  But it might have been so
+much worse.  He is so thankful that you and Mona are safe.  He doesn't
+give a single thought to himself."
+
+"He never does," said Lucy, half-smiling, half-weeping.  "That's why he
+needs me to take thought of him.  When may I see him, Nurse?"
+
+"That's what he is asking.  If you keep very quiet now, and have a nice
+sleep, perhaps you'll be strong enough for just a peep at him when you
+wake up."
+
+"I'll lie still, and be very quiet, but I can't promise to sleep."
+She did sleep, though, in spite of herself, for when next she turned her
+head to see if the hands of the clock had moved at all, she found her
+husband sitting beside her, smiling at her.
+
+"Why, however did you get here, dear?  I never saw you come--nor heard a
+sound."
+
+"I reckon I must have growed up out of the floor," said Peter, bending to
+kiss her.  "Well, my girl, this isn't where I expected to see 'ee when I
+came back--but I'm so thankful to find you at all, I can't think of
+anything else."
+
+"Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you've come," she cried, clinging to him
+passionately.  "I never thought we should meet again in this world.
+Oh! Peter--what we've been through!  Oh! That night!  That awful night!"
+
+He patted her soothingly, holding her hand in his.  "I know, I know--but
+you must try not to dwell on it.  If you throw yourself back, I shan't be
+allowed to come again."
+
+Lucy put a great restraint upon herself.  "They've told you:--poor granny
+is dead?" she whispered, but more calmly.
+
+"Yes--they've told me.  I believe I know the worst now.  I've one bit of
+comfort, though, for all of us.  I've just seen the doctor, and he says
+she was dead before the fire reached her.  She must have died almost as
+soon as she lay down."
+
+Then Lucy broke down and wept from sheer relief.  "Oh, thank God," she
+said, fervently, "for taking her to Himself, and sparing her the horrors
+of that awful night.  Thank Him, too, for Mona's sake.  The thought that
+granny perished in the fire because no one reached her in time would have
+been the worst of all the thoughts weighing on her mind.  She will be
+spared that now."
+
+At that moment, though, Mona was troubled by no thoughts at all.  She lay
+in her bed in the ward just as they had placed her there hours before,
+absolutely unconscious.  If it had not been for the faint beating of her
+heart she might have been taken for dead.  Doctors came and looked at her
+and went away again, the day nurses went off duty, and the night nurses
+came on and went off again, but still she showed no sign of life.
+With her head and her arms swathed in bandages, she lay with her eyes
+closed, her lips slightly parted.  It was not until the following day, the
+day Granny Barnes was laid to rest in the little churchyard on the hill,
+that she opened her eyes on this world once more, and glanced about her,
+dazed and bewildered.
+
+"Where?" she began.  But before she had finished her sentence, her eyes
+closed.
+
+This time, though, it was not unconsciousness, but sleep that she drifted
+off into, and it was not until afternoon that she opened her eyes once
+more.
+
+"Where am I?"  She completed her question this time.  Then, at the sight
+of a nurse in uniform, a look of alarm crept into her eyes.
+
+"Where are you, dear?  Why, here in hospital, being taken care of, and
+your mother is here, too."
+
+"Mother."
+
+"Yes, and we are looking after you so well!  You are both better already."
+
+The cheerful voice and smile, the kindly face, drove all Mona's fears away
+at once, and for ever.  But, as memory returned, other fears took their
+place.
+
+"Is--mother--hurt?"
+
+"Yes--but, oh, not nearly as badly as she might have been.  She will be
+well again soon.  You shall go into the ward with her when you are a
+little better.  You must keep very quiet now, and not talk."
+
+"But--granny--and father?" faltered Mona.  "I _must_ know--I can't rest--
+till--I do."
+
+For a moment the Nurse hesitated.  It was very difficult to know what to
+do for the best.  "She will only fret and worry if I don't tell her,
+and imagine things worse than they are," she thought to herself.
+
+"Your father is home, and safe and well.  You shall see him soon.
+Your poor granny is safe, too, dear, and well.  So well, she will never
+suffer any more."
+
+"They--let her--die----"
+
+"No one let her die, dear.  She had died in her sleep before the fire
+broke out.  She was mercifully spared that--and isn't that something to be
+thankful for, Mona?  There, there, don't cry, dear.  You mustn't cry, or
+you will be ill again, and, for your father's and mother's sake, you must
+try and get well.  Your father wants you home to take care of him until
+your mother can come.  Think of him, dear, and how badly he needs you, and
+try your best to get better.  He is longing to come to see you."
+
+Mercifully for Mona, she was too weak to weep much, or even to think,
+and before very long she had sunk into an exhausted sleep.
+Mercifully, too, perhaps, in the horror of her awakening, that terrible
+night, and the distracting hours that followed, it never entered her head
+that it was she who had brought about the disaster.  It was not till later
+that that dreadful truth came home to her, to be repented of through years
+of bitter regret.
+
+The next day her father came to see her, and a few days after that she was
+carried into the adjoining ward and put into the bed next to her mother.
+
+That was a great step forward.  For the first time a ray of sunshine
+penetrated the heavy cloud of sorrow which had overshadowed them all.
+
+"Keep them both as cheerful as possible," the doctor had said, "and don't
+let them dwell on the tragedy if you can help it."  So every day a visitor
+came to see them--Miss Grace Lester, Mrs. Row, and Patty, Millie Higgins,
+and Philippa--and as they all brought flowers and fruit, the little ward
+became a perfect garden, gay with bright colours and sweet scents.
+
+Miss Grace brought a book for Mona, and a soft, warm shawl for Lucy.
+They were delighted.  "And please, Miss," said Lucy, "may I give you my
+best wishes for your happiness?  We heard you were going to be married
+before so very long."
+
+Grace Lester blushed prettily.  "Yes, but not till next spring," she said.
+"Thank you for your good wishes, Mrs. Carne.  It was very sweet of you to
+remember me through all the troubles you have been through lately.
+I am so glad my new home will be in Seacombe, where I know and love
+everyone.  I should have been very grieved if I had had to leave it.
+Mona, what are you thinking about, to make you look so excited?  You know
+the doctor ordered you to keep calm!  I don't know what he would say if he
+saw you now.  He would blame me for exciting you, and I should never be
+allowed to come again."
+
+"Oh, Miss Grace, I am calm--I really am.  I won't be excited, I won't be
+ill, but, oh, I must tell you--I thought of something as soon as ever I
+heard there was to be a wedding--and oh, I wish you would--I am sure it
+would be lovely.  We want--all your Sunday School girls, I mean, Miss
+Grace--to be allowed to come and strew flowers in your path as you come
+out of church, and we'd all be dressed in white, and--and some would have
+pink, and some blue in their hats, and--Oh, Miss Grace, do please think
+about it and try and say 'Yes!'"
+
+Grace Lester's eyes were misty with happy tears by the time Mona had done.
+"Why, you nice, kind children," she cried, "to have such plans for making
+my wedding day beautiful and happy! I had not thought of anything so
+charming."
+
+For a few moments she sat silent, thinking deeply, and Mona lay back on
+her pillow watching her face.  "Would she consent--Oh, would she?
+It would almost be too lovely, though," she concluded.  "It could not
+really come true."
+
+"Mona," said Miss Grace at last.  "Do you know what I thought you might be
+going to ask?"
+
+Mona shook her head, her eyes were full of questioning.
+
+"I thought, perhaps, you were going to ask if you might come and be my
+little housemaid in my new home!"
+
+"Oh--h--h!"  Mona and her mother both exclaimed aloud and in the same tone
+of delight.  "Oh, Miss Grace!"  Mona sprang up in her bed and clapped her
+hands, bandages and all.  "Oh, Miss Grace! do you really mean it?
+That would be better than anything, because that would be for always.
+Oh, mother," turning to Lucy, her face radiant, "wouldn't that be lovely!"
+
+"Lovely," said Lucy, her eyes full of deep pleasure.  "I wouldn't ask for
+anything better for you, Mona.  I think--I know, it'll be the best that
+can possibly happen."
+
+"How very nice of you, Mrs. Carne."  Grace Lester pressed Lucy's hand.
+"You make me feel--very, very proud--but--well, I will try to do my best
+for her.  Good-bye.  I must not stay any longer now, or Nurse will be
+coming to scold me, but," with a smile, "I must just stay long enough to
+say I engage Mona now to come to me in April.  We will talk about wages
+and uniform, and all those things later on, when you are both stronger,
+and I have had time to think.  Now, good-bye--and Mona, don't keep your
+mother awake, or I shall be in everyone's bad books."
+
+"Oh, I'm as excited as she is, I think," said Lucy, smiling up at Mona's
+future mistress, "and it will be a real pleasure to me to teach her and
+get her as ready as I can--and I can't tell you, Miss, how pleased her
+father'll be that she is going where she will be so happy and well looked
+after."
+
+Grace Lester clasped Lucy's hand again.  "It will be a great pleasure to
+me to have her," she said warmly, "and, trained by you, I know she will be
+a comfort to any mistress."
+
+With this new interest to lift her thoughts from her troubles, Mona
+regained health so rapidly that she was able to leave the hospital sooner
+than anyone had dared to hope.  Poor Lucy, who had to stay there some
+weeks longer, watched her departure with tearful eyes.  "I shall feel
+lonely without you, dear," she said, "but for your own sake, and father's,
+I am glad you are going home.  You will look after him, won't you, and see
+to his comforts--and I'll be back in about three weeks, they say, though
+I'll have to go about on crutches for a bit."
+
+"Oh, yes, I'll look after father.  Don't you worry, mother, I'll see to
+things," Mona reassured her.
+
+"I expect you will find the house in a pretty mess, and the garden too.
+When I ran out that night, I little thought I wouldn't be back for nigh on
+two months.  It's a lesson to one to be always prepared."
+
+"Don't you worry, mother, we'll soon get it all straight again.  I am sure
+your place was tidier than any other in Seacombe would be, left in a hurry
+like that, and in the middle of the night."
+
+"But, Mona, you mustn't do too much."  Lucy's anxieties took a new
+direction.  She knew how Mona could, and would work, when she was in the
+mood to.  "Don't be doing too much and making yourself ill.  That would
+trouble me ever so much more than having the house untidy.  You leave it
+all till I come home.  When I am able to move about again I'll soon get
+things nice."
+
+Mona nodded, with a laugh in her eyes.  "Why, of course, everything will
+be scrubbed inside and out, top and bottom, when you get home to do it,
+mother."  But in her mind she added, "if you can find anything needing
+it."
+
+Then she kissed her 'good-bye,' promising to come again soon.  "And I'll
+take her a few flowers out of her own garden," she thought.  "She will
+love that better than anything.  But I expect the garden has run wild by
+this time."
+
+She did not say as much to her mother, for she had learnt how much such
+thoughts worried her; but she did to her father when he came to fetch her.
+He only smiled though.  "You wait till you see it, my girl," he said
+mysteriously, "then you'll know how things have gone since you have been
+away."
+
+"There!" triumphantly, when they presently drew up at the gate.
+"Do you say now that a poor lone man can't keep his place tidy while his
+women-folk are away!" and Mona stared, wide-eyed with surprise, for,
+instead of bushes all beaten down and tangled, weedy paths, and stripped
+flower beds, as she had pictured, the whole garden seemed full.
+Geraniums, phlox, mignonette, roses, snapdragons, and pansies made the
+beds gay, while at the back of them great bushes of Michaelmas daisies and
+chrysanthemums stood erect, neatly tied up to stakes.
+
+"But how?--who--whenever did you find time, father?"
+
+"I've never put a hand to it."
+
+"Then it must have been the fairies," she laughed.  "Flowers may grow by
+themselves, but paths can't pull up their own weeds--I wish they could--
+nor bushes tie themselves up to stakes."
+
+Her father laughed too.  "Well, never having seen a fairy, I can't
+contradict.  But I'm bound to say that Matthew Luxmore was never my idea
+of one."
+
+"Mr. Luxmore?"
+
+"Yes, he's come two and three times a week, all the time your mother's
+been in hospital, and tended the garden the same as if it had been his
+own.  Don't you call that acting the real Christian?"
+
+"I do.  Oh, father, I wish mother could see it.  Wouldn't it make her
+happy."  Mona was touched almost to tears.  "And doesn't it make you want
+to do something nice for people in return!  But everybody has been so kind
+I don't know where to begin."
+
+"The only way to begin," said Peter Carne, as he led Mona slowly up the
+path, "is to take the first oppertoonity that comes along of doing a
+kindness to one of them, and to keep on taking all the oppertoonities you
+can.  I know that the folks that have been good to us would be cut to the
+heart if we were to talk about returns.  You can't return such things as
+they've done for us.  You can only let them know how grateful you are.
+And if a chance comes of doing anything for them--why, do it.  Now, you
+come along in, my girl, and sit down.  You've done enough for one while.
+You've got to sit there and rest while I make you a cup of tea.
+That's right, the fire's just proper for making a nice bit of toast."
+
+Mona sank down in the arm-chair, and stared about her in speechless
+surprise.  "Why, it's like a palace!  I came home meaning to clean it from
+top to bottom, and there's nothing for me to do.  Has Mr. Luxmore been
+acting the fairy here too, father!"
+
+"No, the fairies in this department were a smaller sort, and more like my
+idea of fairies.  It's Millie Higgins and Patty that have set this all to
+rights for you.  They came and begged of me to let them, till I couldn't
+refuse any longer.  Patty's mother has cooked for me and looked after me
+all the time.  There never was such folk as Seacombe folk I'm certain
+sure.  There, there's a nice bit of toast for you, child, and the kettle
+just going to boil right out over our shining fender.  We'll have a cup of
+tea in a brace of shakes now.  Then you will feel like a new woman."
+
+"I do that already," said Mona.  "I mean," she added softly, "I am going to
+try to be, father."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+More than six months have passed away, and spring has come.
+Lucy Carne, strong and well again, is able to walk without even a trace of
+a limp.  Mona has grown an inch or two, has put up her hair, and
+lengthened her skirts.
+
+"You see I must learn to do it nicely by the time Miss Grace wants me,"
+she explained, when, on Christmas day, she appeared for the first time
+with it coiled about her head.  And, for a few weeks after, knew no peace
+of mind.  "I shall never keep it up," she sighed, "unless I take a hammer
+and nails and fix it to my head that way."
+
+Lucy complained that she spent a fortune in hairpins, and her father said
+he could always trace where Mona had been by the hairpins strewing the
+place.
+
+Lucy and she had been busy since the New Year came in making her uniform,
+blue print frocks, and large white linen aprons for the mornings, and a
+brown cloth dress and muslin aprons for the afternoons.  She was to have
+muslin caps too, and white collars and cuffs.
+
+"I don't think black is really more serviceable than any other colour,"
+Miss Lester had said when she came to talk to Lucy about Mona, "and I
+think I would like to have something new.  So I want my servants to wear
+a pretty warm brown."
+
+Mona was enraptured.  The idea of wearing a uniform was delightful enough,
+but to have one unlike what other servants wore was doubly attractive.
+And when, on top of that, Miss Grace had said she had been thinking a
+great deal about Mona's pretty suggestion for her wedding day, and would
+be very happy indeed if her Bible-class girls would carry it out, Mona
+thought that life was almost too full of happiness.  "I'm afraid I shall
+wake up and find it's all a dream," she said pathetically.  "Mother, I'm
+not dreaming, am I?"
+
+"And I would like to give you all the muslin to make your dresses of,"
+added Miss Grace.
+
+Lucy looked at her gratefully.  "It's too good of you, Miss, and you with
+so much else to think about, and such a lot to get.  I don't know how to
+thank you."
+
+"Then don't try," said Miss Grace.  "I understand.  I shall leave it to
+you," turning smilingly to Mona, "to provide the flowers you are going to
+throw."
+
+"Oh, we are all doing our best to get plenty of those," said Lucy.
+"There's a proper rivalry all through Seacombe, trying which of us can get
+the best.  There won't be any out-door roses, but we've all got bushes in
+our windows."
+
+Seacombe folk that spring tried to outdo each other in their cleaning,
+too.  As soon as the March winds died down, and the days grew light and
+fine such a fury of whitewashing and painting, scrubbing and polishing set
+in, as had never been known in Seacombe before.  By the middle of April
+there was not a whitewashing brush left, nor a yard of net for curtains.
+
+"It dazzles one to walk up the street when the sun shines," Dr. Edwards
+complained.  "What's the meaning of it all.  Is it any special year----"
+
+"It's your year, sir," laughed Lucy.  "That's the meaning of it!  It's all
+for your wedding day.  You see, sir, you have been so good to us all, we
+want to do what we can to show you and Miss Grace what we feel towards you
+both."
+
+Dr. Edwards was touched.  Seacombe folk did not talk much of their
+feelings, and he had never dreamed how much they felt.  "It is very, very
+kind of you all," he said, "and the knowledge will make us more happy than
+all our wedding presents put together."
+
+"And we are all praying, sir, that the day may be as perfect a one as ever
+anybody knew," chimed in Mrs. Row, who was standing close by.
+
+And surely no people ever had their prayers more graciously granted.
+The sun shone in a cloudless sky from morning till night.  A soft little
+breeze from the sea tempered the warmth, and set all the flags and
+streamers waving.  And as the bride walked down the churchyard path on her
+husband's arm, it blew the rose petals over her, pink, and crimson, and
+white.
+
+Mona, her wishes realised, wore a blue sash and forget-me-nots in her hat;
+Millie stood next her with pink roses in hers, and a pink sash.  Patty was
+a blue girl, and Philippa a pink one.  And though the baskets they carried
+held not so very many roses, they were flowing over with other flowers,
+for the girls had walked miles to gather bluebells and primroses, violets
+and delicate anemones, the air smelt sweetly of spring, and the joy of
+spring was in their faces, and in their hearts as well.
+
+And as the bride walked away down the path, Mona looked after her with
+tender, wistful eyes, and an unspoken prayer in her heart, that she might
+be given the grace, and the power to serve her new mistress well and
+loyally, and to do her share towards making her new life in her new home
+as happy as life could be.
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Making of Mona, by Mabel Quiller-Couch
+
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Making of Mona, by Mabel Quiller-Couch
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Making of Mona
+
+Author: Mabel Quiller-Couch
+
+Illustrator: E. Wallcousins
+
+Release Date: November 4, 2009 [EBook #30402]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAKING OF MONA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Lionel Sear
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+
+<h2>THE MAKING OF MONA</h2>
+
+<h4>By</h4>
+
+<h2>MABEL QUILLER-COUCH.</h2>
+
+<br><br><h5>AUTHOR OF "TROUBLESOME URSULA", "A PAIR OF RED-POLLS"</h5>
+<h5>"KITTY TRENIRE," "THE CARROLL GIRLS," ETC., ETC.</h5>
+<br><br><br>
+<h3>ILLUSTRATED BY E. WALLCOUSINS.</h3>
+
+
+
+<br><br><br>
+<h5>1919</h5>
+<h5> This etext prepared from a version published in 1919.</h5>
+
+<br><br><br>
+<h4>LONDON</h4>
+<h4>SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE</h4>
+<h4>NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h4>
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<center>
+<img alt = "Fig 1." src = "images/fig1.jpg"><br>
+<span class = "caption">"Granny stood staring at her broken treasures"</span>
+</center>
+
+
+<br><br><br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER LINKS</h2>
+<br><br><br>
+<center>
+<table summary="">
+<tbody><tr><td>
+
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0001">
+I.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0002">
+II.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0003">
+III.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0004">
+IV.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0005">
+V.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0006">
+VI.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0007">
+VII.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0008">
+VIII.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0009">
+IX.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0010">
+X.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0011">
+XI.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0012">
+XII.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0013">
+XIII.
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0014">
+XIV.
+</a></p>
+</td></tr>
+</tbody></table>
+</center>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0001"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+
+
+<p>The kettle sat on the hob, and Mona sat on the floor, both as idle as idle
+could be.</p>
+
+<p>"I will just wait till the kettle begins to sing," thought Mona; and
+became absorbed in her book again.</p>
+
+<p>After a while the kettle, at any rate, seemed to repent of its laziness,
+for it began to hum softly, and then to hum loudly, and then to sing, but
+Mona was completely lost in the story she was reading, and had no mind for
+repentance or anything else.  She did not hear the kettle's song, nor even
+the rattling of its cover when it boiled, though it seemed to be trying in
+every way to attract her attention.  It went on trying, too, until at last
+it had no power to try any longer, for the fire had died low, and the
+kettle grew so chilly it had not even the heart to 'hum,' but sat on the
+black, gloomy-looking stove, looking black and gloomy too, and, if kettles
+have any power to think, it was probably thinking that poor old granny
+Barnes' tea would be scarcely worth drinking when she came home presently,
+tired and hungry, from her walk to Milbrook, for Mona, even if she
+realised that the water had boiled, would never dream of emptying it away
+and filling the kettle afresh, as she should do.</p>
+
+<p>But Mona had no thought for kettles, or tea, or granny either, for her
+whole mind, her eyes, her ears, and all her senses were with the heroine
+of the fascinating story she was absorbed in; and who could remember fires
+and kettles and other commonplace things when one was driving through a
+lovely park in a beautiful pony carriage, drawn by cream-coloured ponies,
+and seated beside an exquisitely dressed little lady who had more money
+than she could count, and insisted on sharing all with her companion?</p>
+
+<p>Mona certainly could not.  She never could manage to remember two things
+at the same time; so, as all her thoughts were absorbed by her
+golden-haired friend in the blue silk frock, granny in her old black
+merino and heavy boots was forgotten as completely as the fire, and it was
+not until someone came stumbling up the garden path and a tired voice
+said, "Well, dearie, I'm come at last, how have you got on since I've been
+gone?" that she remembered anything about either; and when she did she
+felt almost sorry that granny had come quite so soon, for if she had only
+been a few minutes later Mona might just have finished the chapter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm so tired!" groaned granny, dropping wearily into her arm-chair.
+"I have been longing for a nice cup of tea for this hour and more."
+Then, as her eyes fell on the black grate, her voice changed to one of
+dismay.  "Why, Mona!" she cried, "the fire's gone clean out!  Oh, dear!
+oh, dear!"  Granny's voice was full of disappointment.  With anyone but
+Mona she would have been very cross indeed, but she was rarely cross with
+her.  "I daresay it'll catch up again quickly with a few sticks,"
+she added patiently.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, really ashamed of herself, ran out to the little wood-rick which
+stood always in the back-yard.  "Stupid old fire," she muttered
+impatiently, "of course it must go out, just to spite me because I wanted
+to have a little read," and she jerked out the sticks with such force that
+a whole pile of faggots came tumbling down to the ground.  She did not
+stay, though, to pick them up again, for she really was sorry for her
+carelessness, and wanted to try and catch up the fire as quickly as
+possible.  She had fully meant to have a nice fire, and the tea laid,
+and the kettle on the point of boiling, and everything as nice as could be
+by the time her grandmother got back from the town.  But one never got any
+credit for what one meant to do, thought Mona with a feeling of self-pity.</p>
+
+<p>By the time she got back to the kitchen her grandmother had taken off her
+bonnet and shawl and was putting on her apron.  "My feet do ache," she
+sighed.  "The roads are so rough, and it's a good step to Milbrook and
+back&mdash;leastways it seems so when you're past sixty."</p>
+
+<p>Mona felt another pang of shame, for it was she who should have gone to
+the town to do the shopping; but she had not wanted to, and had complained
+of being tired, and so granny had gone herself, and Mona had let her.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me unlace your boots, granny, and get your slippers for you."
+She thought she would feel less guilty if she did something to make her
+grandmother more comfortable.  "You sit down in your chair, I'll do all
+that's got to be done."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes leaned back with a sigh of relief.  "Bless the dear child,"
+she thought affectionately, "how she does think for her old granny!"
+She had already forgotten that Mona had let the fire go out, and neglected
+to make any preparations for her home-coming; and Mona, who could be very
+thoughtful and kind if she chose, knelt down and unlaced the heavy boots,
+and slipped the warm, comfortable slippers on to the tired old feet,
+laughing and chattering cheerfully the while.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you are to sit there, gran, and not to dare to move to do one single
+thing.  I'm going to talk to that fire, and you'll see how I'll coax him
+up in no time, and if that kettle doesn't sing in five minutes I'll take
+the poker to him."  And, whether it was because of her coaxing or not,
+the fire soon flamed cheerfully, and the kettle, being already warm, began
+to sing almost as soon as Mona had got the cloth spread.</p>
+
+<p>While she waited for it to come to boiling point, she sat down on her
+little stool by the fire, and took up her book again.  "Just to have a
+little look at the pictures for a minute," she explained.  "Oh, granny, it
+is such a lovely story, I must tell you about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear, I'd like to&mdash;some day."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona did not hear the 'some day.' She was already pouring into
+granny's ear all she had read, and granny interjected patiently,
+"Yes, dearie," and "Oh my!" and "How nice!" though she was so faint and
+weary she could not take in half of Mona's chatter.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the kettle boiled again, but Mona was once more lost to
+everything but her story, and it was granny who got up and made the tea.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all ready, dearie," she said, as she sank into her chair once more.
+"You must tell me the rest while you are having it.  Oh, there's no butter
+out."  She had to get up again and drag her aching feet to the little
+larder for the butter, and as soon as she had settled herself again she
+had to get up and get a teaspoon.  Mona had forgotten a half of the things
+she should have laid, and she had forgotten, too, that granny was tired.</p>
+
+<p>"And oh, granny," she went on breathlessly, "on her birthday Pauline wore
+a muslin dress, with blue forget-me-nots worked all over it, and a blue
+sash, and&mdash;and a hat just covered with forget-me-nots."</p>
+
+<p>"She must have looked like a bed of them," remarked Granny.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>I</i> think she looked perfectly sweet!  I'd love to have clothes like
+she had.  Of course, she didn't have to do <i>any</i> work&mdash;nothing at all all
+day long."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I know a little girl who doesn't do much," remarked granny quietly,
+but Mona did not hear her.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny, do you think I'll be able to have a new hat this summer?
+Mine is ever so shabby&mdash;and shall I have forget-me-nots on it?  I'd rather
+have forget-me-nots than anything.  I suppose I couldn't have a blue sash
+to wear with it, could I, Gran?  I don't think they cost very very much.
+Millie Higgins, in at Seacombe, had a plaid one, and she was sure it
+didn't cost a great deal, she said.  Her uncle brought it to her,
+but Millie never wears it.  She doesn't like plaid; she wishes it was
+pink.  I'd wear it if 'twas mine, but I'd rather have a blue one.  Do you
+think I can have a new hat, granny?"</p>
+
+<p>"We will see.  If your father is able to send some more money for you I
+might be able to manage it; but with your stepmother always ailing his
+money seems to be all wanted for doctor's bills and medicines.  It does
+seem hard."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face fell.  "And I don't suppose the medicine does any good, do
+you, granny?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some folks believe in it, and I s'pose if you believe in it it does you
+good.  For my own part, I never had but two bottles in my life, and I
+don't see that I'm any the worse for going without.  In fact, I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mona, who always sat at the side of the table facing the window, sprang to
+her feet excitedly.  "Why, it's the postman! and he's coming in here,"
+she interrupted, and was at the door to meet him before he had power to
+knock.  She came back more slowly, carefully studying the one letter she
+held.  "It's from father," she said eagerly, as she at last handed it to
+her grandmother.  "Oh, granny!  I wonder if he has sent any money?"</p>
+
+<p>Granny was evidently surprised.  "A letter from your father!  Whatever can
+he be writing about?  I haven't written to him since I had his last.
+I hope he isn't having more trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he has written to know why you haven't," said Mona shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, granny, do make haste and open the letter, I am longing to know
+what's inside!"</p>
+
+<p>But letters did not come every day to Hillside Cottage, so when they did
+they must be made the most of.  Mrs. Barnes examined the envelope back and
+front; the handwriting, the stamp, the postmark; then she had to go to a
+drawer to get a skewer with which to slit the envelope, then her
+spectacles had to be found, polished, and put on, and at long last she
+took out the letter and began to read.</p>
+
+<p>Mona chafed with impatience as she watched her.  Her eyes looked ready to
+pop out of her head with eagerness.  "Why don't you let me read it to
+you?" she cried at last, irritably, and regretted her words as soon as
+they were spoken.  Granny laid the letter on the table beside her and
+fixed her eyes on Mona instead.  "I am not got past reading my own letters
+yet," she said sternly, looking out over the tops of her spectacles at
+her.  Mona was dreadfully afraid they would fall off, and then the
+polishing and fixing process would all have to be gone through again,
+but she had the wisdom to hold her tongue this time, and granny took up
+the letter again, and at last began to read it, while Mona tried hard to
+read granny's face.</p>
+
+<p>She did not utter aloud one word of what she was reading, but presently
+she gave a little half-suppressed cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, granny, what's the matter?"  Mona could keep quiet no longer.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear! oh, dear!  Here's a pretty fine thing.  Your father wants you
+to go home."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face fell again.  Then he had not sent any money, and she would not
+be able to have her hat!  For the moment nothing else seemed to matter.</p>
+
+<p>"What does he want me home for?" she asked sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Your stepmother has been ill again, and the doctor says she mustn't be
+left alone, and must have someone to help her.  She's terrible nervous
+when your father's away to the fishing, so you've got to be fetched home."
+Mrs. Barnes spoke resentfully.  Her daughter, Mona's mother, had died when
+Mona was a sturdy little maiden of ten, and for eighteen months Mona had
+run wild.  Her father could not bear to part with her, nor would he have
+anyone to live with them.  So Mona had been his housekeeper, or rather,
+the house had kept itself, for Mona had taken no care of it, nor of her
+father's comforts, nor of her own clothes, or his.  She just let
+everything go, and had a gloriously lazy, happy time, with no one to
+restrain her, or make her do anything she did not want to do.</p>
+
+<p>She was too young, of course, to be put in such a position; but she did
+not even do what she might have done, and no one was surprised, and no one
+blamed her father&mdash;no one, at least, but Mrs. Barnes&mdash;when at the end of
+eighteen months he married pretty, gentle Lucy Garland, one of the
+housemaids at the Squire's.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes, though, resented very strongly anyone being put in her dead
+daughter's place, with control over her daughter's child, and she had
+written angrily enough to Peter, demanding that Mona should be given up to
+her.  And though he doubted the wisdom of it, to please and pacify her,
+Peter Carne had let her have the child.  "Not for good," he said,
+"for I can't part with her altogether, but for a long visit."</p>
+
+<p>"If she puts Mona against Lucy, it'll be a bad job," he thought
+anxiously, "and mischief may be done that it'll take more than I know to
+undo."</p>
+
+<p>However, Mona felt none of the dislike of her stepmother that her
+grandmother felt.  In fact, she was too happy-go-lucky and fond of change
+to feel very strongly about anything.  She had got her father's home and
+all his affairs into such a muddle she was not sorry to go right away and
+leave it all.  She was tired of even the little housework she did.
+She hated having to get up and light the fire, and, on the whole, she was
+very glad for someone else to step in and take it all off her shoulders.
+And as she had left her home before her stepmother came to it, she had not
+experienced what it was to have someone in authority over her.</p>
+
+<p>So Mona felt no real grievance against her stepmother, and, with all her
+faults, she was too healthy-minded to invent one.  Her grandmother's not
+too kind remarks about her had fallen on indifferent ears, and,
+fortunately, had had no effect except to make Mona feel a sort of mild
+scorn for anyone so constantly ailing as Lucy Carne was.</p>
+
+<p>She felt no sympathy for the cause of the ill-health, even though she knew
+that it all began one bitter, stormy night when Lucy and the wives of the
+other men who were out at sea stood for hours watching for the first signs
+of the little storm-tossed boats, in the agony of their hearts, deaf and
+blind, and entirely unconscious of the driving sheets of rain and the
+biting east wind which soaked and chilled them to the bone.</p>
+
+<p>When at daybreak the storm lulled, and the boats, with all safe on board,
+were seen beating up before the wind, all the misery and wet and cold were
+forgotten as they hurried joyfully home to make up big fires and prepare
+hot food for the exhausted men.  But more than one woman paid heavily for
+the night's experience, and Lucy Carne was among them.</p>
+
+<p>For days she had lain writhing in the agony of rheumatic fever.  For days
+she had lain at the gates of death, and when at last she came back to
+life again, it was such a wreck of her old self that she was scarcely able
+to do anything.  And this in Granny Barnes' eyes had been an added
+grievance.</p>
+
+<p>It was a greater grievance than ever now, for it meant that her
+grandchild, her very own daughter's child, was to be taken from her, to
+work for the stranger who had taken her daughter's place.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, Mona had no such foolish thoughts.  Her only grievance was
+that the money which might have been spent on a new hat would have to be
+spent on the carrier.  "And nobody will be any the better for it, except
+Mr. Darbie, and he's got lots already.  They say he has a whole bagful in
+a box under his bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Your stepmother will be better off.  She'll have you," said Granny Barnes
+crossly.  "Well, the letter's spoilt my tea for me.  Anyway, I don't want
+anything more.  I've had enough for one while."</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked surprised.  "Oh, has it! I thought you were hungry, granny.
+I am," and she helped herself to another slice of bread and butter.
+"I wonder which day I'd better go?&mdash;and I must wear my best frock, mustn't
+I?  Such a lot of people go by the van, and you've got to sit so close you
+can't help seeing if anybody's clothes are shabby."</p>
+
+<p>"Um, you seem to have thought it all out, but you don't seem to think
+anything of leaving me, nor of what my feelings may be.  You'd better wear
+your best frock and your best hat too, then your father and your
+stepmother will see that you want something new for Sundays.  It's as well
+folk should learn that all the money can't be spent on doctors and
+physic&mdash;that there's other things wanted too!"</p>
+
+<p>But this speech only sent Mona's expectations higher, and lessened her
+regrets at leaving.  If going home to Seacombe and her new mother meant
+having a new hat and dress, she would only be the more pleased at having
+to go.  She was so occupied with these thoughts that she did not notice
+her grandmother rise and leave the kitchen, nor did she see the tears in
+the sad old eyes.  But her dreams of a journey, clad all in her best,
+were suddenly broken in upon by a sharp scream.  The scream came from the
+backyard.  Mona flew out at once.  It was getting dark out of doors now,
+but not too dark for her to see her grandmother stretched on the ground
+with faggots of wood lying all around her.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Mona's heart seemed to stand still with fear.  She thought
+her grandmother was killed, or, at any rate, had broken her leg.  Then, to
+her intense relief, Mrs. Barnes groaned, and began to rouse herself.</p>
+
+<p>"However did these things come scattered about like this, I should like to
+know," she cried angrily.  But in her relief at knowing she was able to
+move and speak Mona did not mind granny's crossness.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you pull them down?"</p>
+
+<p>"I pull them down." Granny's voice was shrill with indignation.  "It was
+they pulled me down!  I wonder I wasn't killed outright.  It must have
+been those cats that knocked them over.  They are always ranging all over
+the yard.  I shall tell Mrs. Lane if she can't keep them in she'll have to
+get rid of them.  Oh, dear, what a shaking I've had, and I might have
+broke my leg and my head and everything.  Well, can't you try an' give me
+a hand to help me up?"</p>
+
+<p>But Mona was standing dumb-stricken.  It had come back to her at last.
+It was she who had pulled down the faggots and left them.  She had meant
+to go out again and pick them up, and, of course, had forgotten about
+them, and she might have been the cause of a terrible accident!
+She was so shocked and so full of remorse, she could not find a word to
+utter.  Fortunately, it was dark, and her grandmother was too absorbed to
+notice her embarrassment.  All her time was taken up in getting on to her
+feet again and peering about her to try and catch sight of the cats.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps if granny had been less determined to wage war on the cats,
+Mona might have found courage to make her confession, but while she waited
+for a chance to speak her courage ebbed away.  She had done so many wrong
+things that afternoon, she was ashamed to own to more, and, after all, she
+thought, it would not make it better for granny if she did know who really
+scattered the faggots.  So in the end Mona held her tongue, and contented
+herself with giving what assistance she could.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Black Monday for me!" she said to herself as she helped her
+grandmother into the house again.  "Never mind, I'll begin better
+to-morrow.  There's one good thing, there's no real harm done."</p>
+
+<p>She was not so sure, though, that 'no harm was done' when she woke the
+next morning and heard loud voices and sound of quarrelling coming from
+the garden.  She soon, indeed, began to feel that there had been a great
+deal of harm done.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what I say is," her grandmother cried shrilly, "your cats were
+nearly the death of me, and I'll trouble you to keep them in your own
+place."</p>
+
+<p>"And what I say is," cried her neighbour, "my cats were never near your
+faggot rick.  They didn't go into your place at all last night; they were
+both asleep by my kitchen fire from three in the afternoon till after we'd
+had our supper.  Me and my husband both saw them.  You can ask him
+yourself if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't ask him.  I wouldn't stoop to bandy words about it.  I know, and
+I've a right to my own opinion."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say you don't believe what I say?" cried Mrs. Lane
+indignantly.  "Do you mean to tell me I'm telling an untruth?
+Well, Mrs. Barnes, if you won't speak to my husband, and won't believe me,
+perhaps you'll ask your Mona!  I daresay she can tell you how the faggots
+got scattered.  She was out there, I saw her from&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's right! Try and put it off on the poor child! Do you expect me to
+believe that my Mona would have left those faggots&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ask her, that's all," said Mrs. Lane, meaningly.  "And now I've done.
+I ain't going to have anything more to say.  You're too vi'lent and
+onreasonable, Mrs. Barnes, and I'll trouble you not to address me again
+till you've 'pologised."</p>
+
+<p>Granny laughed, a short sarcastic laugh.  "'Pologise!" she cried shrilly,
+"and me in the right too!  No, not if I lived next door to you for fifty
+years, I wouldn't 'pologise.  When you've 'pologised to me, Mrs. Lane,
+I'll begin to think about speaking to you again."</p>
+
+<p>Mona, standing shivering by the window, listened to it all with a sick
+feeling of shame and dismay.  "Oh, why does granny say such dreadful
+things!  Oh, I wish I'd spoken out at once!  Now, when granny asks me,
+I shall have to tell her, and oh," miserably, "won't she be angry?"</p>
+
+<p>But Mona escaped that ordeal.  Her grandmother did not mention the
+subject, for one reason; she felt too unwell; an outburst of anger always
+made her ill; and for another, she was already ashamed of herself and of
+what she had said.  Altogether, she was so uncomfortable about the whole
+matter, and so ashamed, and vexed, she wanted to try to forget all about
+it.</p>
+
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0002"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+<p>John Darbie and his one-horse van journeyed from Milbrook to Seacombe
+every Tuesday and Friday, passing Mrs. Barnes' cottage on their way;
+and on Wednesdays and Saturdays he journeyed home again.  The two places
+were only ten miles apart, but, as John's horse 'Lion' never travelled
+faster than three miles an hour, and frequent stops had to be made to pick
+up passengers and luggage, and put down other passengers and other
+luggage, the journey was seldom accomplished in less than six hours.</p>
+
+<p>The day that Mona travelled to Seacombe the journey took longer than
+usual, for they had to stop at Barnes Gate&mdash;an old turnpike&mdash;to pick up a
+couple of young pigs, which were to be brought by a farm boy to meet them
+there; and as the pigs refused to be picked up, and were determined to
+race back to their home, it took John and the farmer's boy, and some of
+the passengers, quite a long time to persuade them that their fate lay in
+another direction.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, homesick and depressed, was quite glad of the distraction, though
+she felt sorry for the poor pigs.  At that moment she felt sorry for
+anyone or anything which had to leave its old home for a new one.</p>
+
+<p>Only a few days had elapsed since that evening when her father's letter
+had come, and her grandmother had fallen over the faggots, but such long,
+unhappy days they had been.  Her grandmother had been silent and
+depressed, and she herself had been very unhappy, and everything had
+seemed wrong.  Sometimes she had longed to be gone, and the parting over.
+Yet, when at last the day came, and she had to say good-bye to granny,
+and her own little bedroom, and the cottage, and to leave without saying
+good-bye to Mrs. Lane, it seemed almost more than she could bear.
+She looked out at the cottage and at granny, standing waving her
+handkerchief, but she could scarcely see either because of the mist in her
+eyes, and, when at last the van turned a corner which cut them off
+entirely from view, the mist in her eyes changed to rain.</p>
+
+<p>If it had not been for the other people in the van, Mona would have jumped
+out and run back again, and have confessed all to granny, and have been
+happy once more.  She knew that if she asked granny to forgive her,
+she would do so before long, even if she was vexed with her at first.</p>
+
+<p>But Mona's courage failed her.  The people in the van would try to stop
+her, and very likely would succeed, and there would be such a chattering
+and fuss.  Her spirit sank at the thought of it, and so she hesitated and
+wavered until it was too late.</p>
+
+<p>It was not to be wondered at that she welcomed the little scene with the
+pigs at the four cross-roads, and felt quite glad when Mr. Darbie asked
+her to get out and stand at the end of one of the roads to keep the poor
+little things from running down it.</p>
+
+<p>"We shan't get to Seacombe till nightfall," grumbled the old man when at
+last he had got the pair into two sacks, and had fastened them up securely
+on the tail-board of the van.</p>
+
+<p>"And I've got to catch the five o'clock train from there," said one of the
+passengers sourly.  "If ever you want to be a little bit earlier than
+usual, you're bound to be later.  It's always the way."</p>
+
+<p>Old John Darbie always recovered his temper when other people had lost
+theirs.  He realised how foolish they looked and sounded.  "Aw, don't you
+worry, missus," he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
+"She'll wait for me.  They wouldn't let no train start 'fore me and my
+passengers was in!"</p>
+
+<p>All the rest of the passengers laughed, Mona too, at which the sour-faced
+woman glared at them angrily.  Then they jogged on again, and by that time
+Mona had recovered sufficiently to be able to take more interest in her
+surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>She noticed that the woman beside her, and the woman opposite her, were
+looking her up and down, and she felt very glad that she had on her best
+hat and dress.  She did wish, though, that she had mended the hole in her
+gloves, for one of the women seemed more attracted by them than by
+anything else, and it was really rather embarrassing.  She longed to put
+her hands behind her back to hide them, but that would have looked too
+pointed; so, instead, she turned round and looked out of the window,
+pretending to be lost to everything but the view.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very pretty road that they were travelling, but very hilly,
+and Lion's pace grew, if possible, even slower.  One or two of the
+passengers complained loudly, but Mona was enjoying herself thoroughly
+now.  To her everything was of interest, from the hedges and the ploughed
+fields, just showing a tinge of green, to the cottages and farms they
+passed here and there.  To many people each mile would have seemed just
+like the last, but to Mona each had a charm of its own.  She knew all the
+houses by sight, and knew the people who dwelt in some of them, and when
+by and by the van drew near to Seacombe, and at last, between a dip in the
+land, she caught her first glimpse of the sea, her heart gave a great
+leap, and a something caught in her throat.  This was home, this was her
+real home.  Mona knew it now, if she had never realised it before.</p>
+
+<p>At Hillside something had always been lacking&mdash;she could hardly have told
+what, but somehow, she had never loved the place itself.  It had never
+been quite 'home' to her, and never could be.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect you're tired, dear, ain't you?" the woman beside her asked in a
+kindly voice.  The face Mona turned to her was pale, but it was with
+feeling, not tiredness.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," she cried, hardly knowing what she felt, or how to put it into
+words.  "I was a little while ago&mdash;but I ain't now.  I&mdash;I don't think I
+could ever feel tired while I could see that!" She pointed towards the
+stretch of blue water, with the setting sun making a road of gold right
+across it and into the heaven that joined it.</p>
+
+<p>The woman smiled sadly.  "Are you so fond of it as all that!  I wish I
+was.  I can't abide it&mdash;it frightens me.  I never look at it if I can help
+it.  It makes me feel bad."</p>
+
+<p>"And it makes me feel good," thought Mona, but she was shy of saying so.
+"I think I should be ashamed to do anything mean when I was in sight of
+the sea," she added to herself.  And then the old horse drew up suddenly,
+and she saw that they had actually reached their journey's end.</p>
+
+<p>As she stepped down from the van and stood alone in the inn yard, where
+John Darbie always unloaded, and put up his horse and van, Mona for the
+first time felt shy and nervous.  She and her new mother were really
+strangers to each other.  They had met but once, and that for only a
+little while.</p>
+
+<p>"And p'raps we shan't get on a bit," thought Mona.  "P'raps she's very
+particular, and will be always scolding!" and she felt very miserable.
+And then, as she looked about her, and found that no one, as far as she
+could tell, had come to meet her, she began to feel very forlorn, and
+ill-used too.  All the sharp little unkind remarks about Lucy Carne, which
+had fallen from Granny Barnes' lips, came back to her mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I do think somebody might have come to meet me!" she said to herself, and
+being tired, and nervous, and a little bit homesick for granny, the tears
+rushed to her eyes.  Hastily diving in her pocket for her handkerchief,
+her fingers touched her purse, and she suddenly realised that she had not
+paid John Darbie his fare!  With a thrill and a blush at her own
+forgetfulness, she hurried back to where he was busy unloading his van.
+He had already taken down the pigs and some bundles of peasticks, and a
+chair which wanted a new cane seat, and was about to mount to the top to
+drag down the luggage which was up there, when he saw Mona waiting for
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Please, here's my fare.  I'm sorry I forgot it, and how am I to get my
+box up to my house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Get your box up?  Why the same way as you'll get yourself up.  Hop inside
+again, and I'll drive 'ee both up in a minute.  I promised your mother I
+would.  You hold on to your money now, it'll be time enough to settle up
+when I've done my job," and the old man chuckled amiably at his little
+joke.</p>
+
+<p>But Mona did not want to get back into the close, stuffy van again, and
+sit there in solitary state, with everyone who passed by staring at her.
+So, as soon as John Darbie was safely on the top and busy amongst the
+boxes there, she walked quietly out of the yard and into the street.</p>
+
+<p>How familiar it all was, and how unchanged!  After Milbrook&mdash;the little
+ugly new town, scarcely worthy the name of town&mdash;and the hamlet where her
+granny lived, the street and houses looked small and old-fashioned, but
+they looked homelike and strong.  The Milbrook houses, with their walls
+half a brick thick, and their fronts all bow-windows, would not have
+lasted any time in little stormy, wind-swept Seacombe.  Experience had
+taught Seacombe folk that their walls must be nearly as solid as the
+cliffs on which many of them were built, and the windows must be small and
+set deep in the walls; otherwise they were as likely as not to be blown in
+altogether when the winter storms raged; that roofs must come well down to
+meet the little windows, like heavy brows protecting the eyes beneath,
+which under their shelter, could gaze out defiantly at sea and storm.</p>
+
+<p>To Mona, seeing them again after many months' absence, the houses looked
+rough and poor, and plain; yet she loved them, and, as she walked up the
+steep, narrow street, she glanced about her with eager, glowing eyes.
+For the time her loneliness and nervousness were forgotten.  Here and
+there someone recognised her, but at that hour there were never many
+people about.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mona Carne! is it really you!  Well, your mother and father'll be
+glad to have you home again." Mona beamed gratefully on the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it really Mona," cried another.  "Why, now, you've grown!  I didn't
+know you till Mrs. Row said your name!"</p>
+
+<p>Mona began to feel less forlorn and ill-used, and she was more glad than
+ever that she had on her best clothes, and had put her hair up in squibs
+the night before.</p>
+
+<p>Outside one of the few shops Seacombe possessed, she drew up and looked in
+at the windows with interest.  They had improved a little.  The draper's
+was particularly gay with new spring things, and to Mona who had not seen
+a shop lately, unless she walked the three miles to Milbrook, the sight
+was fascinating.  One window was full of ties, gloves, and ribbons; the
+other was as gay as a garden with flowers of every kind and colour, all
+blooming at once.  Many of them were crude and common, but to Mona's eyes
+they were beautiful.  There were wreaths of wall-flowers, of roses, and of
+lilacs, but the prettiest of all to Mona was one of roses and
+forget-me-nots woven in together.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she gasped, "how I'd love to have that one!  Oh, I'd love it!"
+There were hats in the window, too.  Pretty, light, wide-brimmed hats.
+Mona's eyes travelled backwards and forwards over them till she saw one of
+the palest green straw, the colour of a duck's egg.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, wouldn't the roses and forget-me-nots look lovely on that, with just
+a bow of white ribbon at the back.  Oh, I wish&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's Mona Carne!" cried a voice behind her, and Mona, wheeling
+swiftly round, found Millie Higgins at her elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, who ever would have thought of meeting you strolling up the street
+just as though you had never been away!" cried Millie.  "But you've grown,
+Mona.  You are ever so much taller than when you went away, and your
+hair's longer too.  Do you think I am changed?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona was delighted.  She wanted to be tall, and she wanted to have nice
+long hair.  She had never cared for Millie Higgins before, but at that
+moment she felt that she liked her very much indeed, and they chattered
+eagerly to each other, lost to everything but the news they had to pour
+into each other's ears.</p>
+
+<p>After a little while, though, Millie tired of talking.  She wanted to get
+on, and what Millie wanted to do she generally did.  "I must fly&mdash;and
+there's your poor mother home worrying herself all this time to a
+fiddle-string, wondering what has become of you.  She expected the van an
+hour ago, and had got your tea all ready and waiting for you."</p>
+
+<p>Mona started guiltily, and then began to excuse herself.  "Well, we were
+late in coming, we were so long on the road.  Mr. Darbie said he'd drive
+me up, but I liked walking best.  If I had gone up by the van I shouldn't
+have been there yet, so it's all the same."</p>
+
+<p>"The van!  Why, it's gone by.  Only a minute ago, though.  If you run
+you'll be there almost as soon as he will."</p>
+
+<p>Without staying to say good-bye, Mona ran, but either Millie's minute had
+been a very long one, or 'Lion' had stepped out more briskly at the end of
+the day than at the beginning, for when Mona got to the house John Darbie
+was just coming away.  "Thank'ee, ma'am," he was saying, and Mona saw him
+putting some coins in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got the&mdash;&mdash;" she began to call out to him, but stopped, for her new
+mother came out to the gate, and looked anxiously down the hill.  She was
+looking for herself, Mona knew, and a fit of shyness came over her which
+drove every other thought from her mind.</p>
+
+<p>But almost as quickly as the shyness came it disappeared again, for Lucy's
+eyes fell on her, and, her face alight with pleasure, Lucy came forward
+with arms outstretched in welcome.  "Why, you poor little tired thing,
+you," she cried, kissing her warmly, "you must be famished!  Come in, do.
+I was quite frightened about you, for I've been expecting you this hour
+and more, and then when Mr. Darbie came, and brought only your box,
+it seemed as if I wasn't ever going to see you.  Come in, dear," drawing
+Mona's arm through her own, and leading her into the house.  "Sit down and
+rest a bit before you go up to see your room."</p>
+
+<p>Exhausted with excitement, and talking, and the extra exertion, Lucy
+herself had to sit down for a few minutes to get her breath.  Mona, more
+tired than she realised until she came to sit down, lay back in her
+father's big chair and looked about her with shy interest.  How familiar
+it all seemed, yet how changed.  Instead of the old torn, soiled drab
+paper, the walls were covered with a pretty blue one, against which the
+dresser and table and the old familiar china showed up spotless and
+dainty; the steel on the stove might have been silver, the floor was as
+clean and snowy as the table.</p>
+
+<p>Mona's memory of it all was very different.  In those days there had been
+muddle, dust, grease everywhere, the grate was always greasy and choked
+with ashes, the table sloppy and greasy, the floor unwashed, even unswept,
+the dressers with more dust than anything else on them.  Mona could
+scarcely believe that the same place and things could look so different.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how nice it all is," she said in a voice full of admiration, and Lucy
+smiled with pleasure.  She knew that many girls would not have admitted
+any improvement even if they had seen it.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we go upstairs now?" she said.  "I've got my breath again," and she
+led the way up the steep little staircase, which Mona remembered so well.</p>
+
+<p>"You know the way to your old room, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona walked ahead to it, but at the door she drew up with a cry of
+delight.  "Oh, Mother!" she turned to say with a beaming face, and without
+noticing that she had called her by the name about which she and granny
+had debated so long.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy noticed it though, and coloured with pleasure.  She had felt more shy
+than had Mona, about suggesting what her stepchild should call her.
+"Thank you, dear, for calling me that," she said, putting her arm about
+her and kissing her.  "I didn't know, I wondered how you would feel about
+it."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona was too delighted with everything she saw to feel anything but
+pleasure and gratitude then.  The walls had been papered with a pretty
+rose-covered paper, the shabby little bed had been painted white.
+Pretty pink curtains hung at the window, and beside the bed stood a small
+bookcase with all Mona's own books in it.  Books that she had left lying
+about torn and shabby, and had thought would have been thrown away, or
+burnt, long ago.  Lucy had collected them, and mended and cleaned them.
+And Lucy, who had brought to her new house many of the ideas she had
+gathered while in service at the Squire's, had painted the furniture white
+too, to match the bed.</p>
+
+<p>Mona had never in her life before seen anything so pretty and dainty.
+"Isn't it lovely!" she cried, sitting down plump on the clean white quilt,
+and crushing it.  "I can't believe it's for me."  She looked about her
+with admiring eyes as she dragged off her hat and tossed it from her,
+accidentally knocking over the candlestick as she did so.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy stooped and picked up both.  The candlestick was chipped, the hat was
+certainly not improved.</p>
+
+<p>"The chipped place will not show much," said Lucy in her gentle, tired
+voice, "but you've crushed the flowers in your hat."</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked at the hat with indifferent eyes.  "Have I? Oh, well, it's my
+last year's one.  I shall want a new one for the summer."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall you, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not notice the little anxious pucker of her mother's forehead.
+Carried away by all that had been done for her already, she had the
+feeling that money must be plentiful at Cliff Cottage.  Her father's boat
+had done well, she supposed.</p>
+
+<p>But before any more was said, a sound of footsteps reached them from
+below, and a loud voice, gruff but kindly, shouted through the little
+place "Lucy, where are you, my girl?  Has the little maid come?" and the
+next moment Mona was darting down the stairs and, taking the last in one
+flying leap, as in the old days, sprang into her father's arms.</p>
+
+<p>"My word!  What a big maid you are grown!" he cried, holding her a little
+way from him, and eyeing her proudly.  "Granny Barnes must have taken good
+care of you!  And now you've come to take care of Lucy and me.
+Eh!  Isn't that it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dad, that's it," cried Mona, excitedly, and sat back with all her
+weight on the pretty flowers and the fresh eggs that her grandmother had
+sent to Lucy by her.</p>
+
+<p>Her father looked vexed.  He knew how much his ailing wife enjoyed fresh
+eggs, and how seldom she allowed herself one, but he could not very well
+express his feelings just when Mona had come back to her home after her
+long absence, so he only laughed a little ruefully, and said, "Same as
+ever, Mona!  Same as ever!"</p>
+
+<p>But, to his surprise, tears welled up into Mona's eyes.  "I&mdash;I didn't mean
+to be," she said tremulously.  "I meant to try to be careful&mdash;but I&mdash;I've
+done nothing but break things ever since I came.  You&mdash;you'll be wishing
+you had never had me home."</p>
+
+<p>"We shan't do that, I know," said Lucy kindly.  "There's some days when
+one seems to break everything one touches&mdash;but they don't happen often.
+Now I'll make the tea.  I'm sure we all want some.  Come, Peter, and take
+your own chair.  There's no moving around the kitchen till we've put you
+in your corner.  Mona, will you sit in the window?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I ought to stand," said Mona tragically.  "I've sat down once too
+often already."</p>
+
+<p>At which they all burst out laughing, and drew round the table in the
+happiest of spirits.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+
+<p>From the moment she lay down in her little white bed, Mona had slept the
+whole night through.  She had risen early the day before&mdash;early at least,
+for her, for her grandmother always got up first, and lighted the fire and
+swept the kitchen before she called Mona, who got down, as a rule, in time
+to sit down to the breakfast her grandmother had got ready for her.</p>
+
+<p>On this first morning in her home she woke of her own accord, and
+half-waking, half-sleeping, and with not a thought of getting up, she
+turned over and was about to snuggle down into the cosy warmth again,
+when across her drowsy eyes flashed the light from her sunny window.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, how does the window get over there?" she asked herself, and then
+recollection came pouring over her, and sleepiness vanished, for life
+seemed suddenly very pleasant and interesting, and full of things to do,
+and see, and think about.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the clock in the church-tower struck seven.  "Only seven!
+Then I've got another hour before I need get up!  But I'll just have a
+look out to see what it all looks like.  How funny it seems to be back
+again!"  She slipped out of bed and across the floor to draw back the
+curtains.  Outside the narrow street stretched sunny and deserted.
+The garden, drenched with dew, was bathed in sunshine too.  But it was not
+on the garden or the street that her eyes lingered, but on the sea beyond
+the low stone wall on the opposite side of the way.  Deep blue it
+stretched, its bosom gently heaving, blue as the sky above, and the jewels
+with which its bosom was decked flashed and sparkled in the morning
+sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh-h-h!" gasped Mona.  "Oh-h-h!  I don't know how anyone can ever live
+away from the sea!"</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the sun, though, the morning was cold, with a touch of frost
+in the air which nipped Mona's toes, and sent her scuttling back to her
+bed again.  She remembered, joyfully, from the old days, that if she
+propped herself up a little she could see the sea from her bed.
+So she lay with her pillow doubled up under her head, and the bedclothes
+drawn up to her chin, and gazed and gazed at the sea and sky, until
+presently she was on the sea, in a boat, floating through waves covered
+with diamonds, and the diamonds came pattering against the sides of the
+boat, as though inviting her to put out her hands and gather them up,
+and so become rich for ever.  Strangely enough, though, she did not heed,
+or care for them.  All she wanted was a big bunch of the forget-me-nots
+which grew on the opposite shore, and she rowed and rowed, with might and
+main, to reach the forget-me-nots, and she put up a sail and flew before
+the wind, yet no nearer could she get to the patch of blue and green.</p>
+
+<p>"But I can smell them!" she cried.  "I can smell them!" and then
+remembered that forget-me-nots had no scent and realised that the scent
+was that of the wallflowers growing in her own garden; and suddenly all
+the spirit went out of her, for she did not care for what she could reach,
+but only for the unattainable; and the oars dropped out of her hands, and
+the diamonds no longer tapped against the boat, for the boat was still,
+and Mona sat in it disappointed and sullen.  The sun went in too,
+and nothing was the same but the scent of the flowers.  And then, through
+her sullen thoughts, the sound of her father's voice came to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona! Mona!  It's eight o'clock.  Ain't you getting up yet? I want you to
+see about the breakfast.  Your mother isn't well."</p>
+
+<p>Mona jumped up with a start, and felt rather cross in consequence.
+"All right, father," she called back.  "I'll come as soon as I can,"
+but to herself she added, in an injured tone, "I s'pose this is what I've
+been had home for!  Hard lines, I call it, to have to get up and light the
+fire the very first morning."</p>
+
+<p>Her father called through the door again.  "The fire's lighted, and
+burning nicely, and I've put the kettle on.  I lighted it before I went
+out.  I didn't call 'ee then, because I thought I heard you moving."</p>
+
+<p>Then her father had been up and dressed for an hour or two, and at work
+already!  A faint sense of shame crossed Mona's mind.  "All right,
+father," she called back more amiably, "I'll dress as quick as I can.
+I won't be more than a few minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a good maid," with a note of relief in his voice, and then she
+heard him go softly down the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>It always takes one a little longer than usual to dress in a strange
+place, but it took Mona longer than it need have done, for instead of
+unpacking her box the night before, and hanging up her frocks, and putting
+her belongings neatly away in their places, she had just tumbled
+everything over anyhow, to get at her nightdress, and so had left them.
+It had taken her quite as long to find the nightdress as it would have to
+lift the things out and put them in their proper places, for the garment
+was almost at the bottom of the box, but Mona did not think of that.
+Now, though, when she wanted to find her morning frock and apron, she grew
+impatient and irritable.  "Perhaps if I tip everything out on the floor
+I'll find the old things that way!" she snapped crossly.  "I s'pose I
+shan't find them until they've given me all the trouble they can,"
+and she had actually thrown a few things in every direction, when she
+suddenly stopped and sat back on her heels.</p>
+
+<p>"I've half a mind to put on my best dress again, then I can come and look
+for the old one when I ain't in such a hurry."  The dress&mdash;her best one&mdash;
+was lying temptingly on a chair close beside her.  She hesitated,
+looked at it again, and picked it up.  As she did so, something fell out
+of the pocket.  It was her purse, the little blue one her granny had
+bought for her at Christmas.  She picked it up and opened it, and as she
+did so the colour rushed over her face.  In one of the pockets was the
+eighteenpence which had been given to her to pay John Darbie with.
+"I&mdash;I suppose I ought to have given it to mother, but it went right out of
+my head."  She completed her dressing in a thoughtful mood, but she did
+find, and put on, her old morning dress.  "I suppose I had better tell
+her&mdash;about the money."  She put the blue purse in a drawer, however,
+and tossed in a lot of things on top of it.</p>
+
+<p>When at last she got downstairs it was already past half-past eight,
+and the fire was burning low again.  "Oh, dear," she cried, irritably,
+"how ever am I going to get breakfast with a fire like that and how am I
+to know what to get or where anything is kept. I think I might have had a
+day or two given me to settle down in.  I s'pose I'd better get some
+sticks first and make the fire up.  Bother the old thing, it only went out
+just to vex me!"</p>
+
+<p>She was feeling hungry and impatient, and out of tune with everything.
+At Hillside she would have been just sitting down to a comfortable meal
+which had cost her no trouble to get.  For the moment she wished she was
+back there again.</p>
+
+<p>As she returned to the kitchen with her hands full of wood, her mother
+came down the stairs.  She looked very white and ill, and very fragile,
+but she was fully dressed.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were too bad to get up," said Mona, unsmilingly.
+"I was going to bring you up some breakfast as soon as I could,
+but the silly old fire was gone down&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid it would.  That was why I got up.  I couldn't be still,
+I was so fidgeted about your father's breakfast.  He'll be home for it in
+a few minutes.  He's had a busy morning, and must want something."</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked glummer than ever.  "I never had to get up early at granny's,"
+she said in a reproachful voice.  "I ain't accustomed to it.  I s'pose I
+shall have to get so."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you let your grandmother&mdash;did your grandmother come down first and
+get things ready for you?" asked Lucy, surprised; and something in her
+voice, or words, made Mona feel ashamed, instead of proud of the fact.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny liked getting up early," she said, excusingly.  Lucy did not make
+any comment, and Mona felt more ashamed than if she had.</p>
+
+<p>"Hasn't father had his breakfast yet?" she asked presently.  "He always
+used to come home for it at eight."</p>
+
+<p>"He did to-day, but you see there wasn't any.  The fire wasn't lighted
+even.  He thought you were dressing, and he wouldn't let me get up.
+When he'd lighted the fire he went off to work again.  He's painting his
+boat, and he said he'd finish giving her her first coat before he'd stop
+again; then she could be drying.  I'll manage better another morning.
+I daresay I'll feel better to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy did look very unwell, and Mona's heart was touched.  "I wish father
+had told me earlier," she said in a less grumbling tone.  "I was awake at
+seven, and got up and looked out of the window.  I never thought of
+dressing then, it seemed so early, and I didn't hear father moving."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, dear, we will manage better another time.  It's nice having
+you home, Mona; the house seems so much more cheerful.  You will be a
+great comfort to us, I know."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's ill-temper vanished.  "I do want to be," she said shyly, "and I am
+glad to be home.  Oh, mother, it was lovely to see the sea again.
+I felt&mdash;oh, I can't tell you how I felt when I first caught a glimpse of
+it.  I don't know how ever I stayed away so long."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy laughed ruefully.  "I wish I loved it like that," she said, "but I
+can't make myself like it even.  It always makes me feel miserable."</p>
+
+<p>A heavy step was heard on the cobbled path outside, and for a moment a big
+body cut off the flood of sunshine pouring in at the doorway.
+"Is breakfast ready?" demanded Peter Carne's loud, good-tempered voice.
+"Hullo, Lucy!  Then you got up, after all!  Well&mdash;of all the obstinate
+women!"</p>
+
+<p>Lucy smiled up at him bravely.  "Yes, I've got down to breakfast.
+I thought I'd rather have it down here with company than upstairs alone.
+Isn't it nice having Mona home, father?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed.  "I ain't going to begin by spoiling the little maid with
+flattery, but yet, 'tis very," and he beamed good-naturedly on both.
+"Now, then, let's begin.  I'm as hungry as a hunter."</p>
+
+<p>By that time the cloth was laid, a dish of fried bacon and bread was
+keeping hot in the oven, and smelling most appetisingly to hungry folk,
+and the kettle was about to boil over.  Through the open doorway the
+sunshine and the scent of wallflowers poured in.</p>
+
+<p>"Them there wallflowers beat anything I ever came across for smell,"
+remarked Peter as he finished his second cup of tea.</p>
+
+<p>"I dreamed about wallflowers," said Mona, "and I seemed to smell them
+quite strong," and she told them her dream&mdash;at least a part of it.
+She left out about the forget-me-nots that she rowed and rowed to try and
+get.  She could not have told why she left out that part, but already a
+vague thought had come to her&mdash;one that she was ashamed of, even though it
+was so vague, and it had to do with forget-me-nots.</p>
+
+<p>All the time she had been helping about the breakfast, and all the time
+after, when she and her stepmother were alone again, she kept saying to
+herself, "Shall I give her the money, shall I keep it?" and her heart
+would thrill, and then sink, and inside her she kept saying, "There is no
+harm in it?&mdash;It is all the same in the end."  And then, almost before
+she knew what she was doing, she had taken the easy, crooked, downhill
+path, with its rocks and thorns so cleverly hidden.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona, haven't you got any print frocks for mornings, and nice aprons?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona's thoughts came back suddenly from "Shall I?  Shall I not?" and the
+eyes with which she looked at her mother were half shamed, half
+frightened.  "Any&mdash;any what?" she stuttered.</p>
+
+<p>"Nice morning aprons and washing frocks?  I don't like to see shabby,
+soiled ones, even for only doing work in."</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't thought about it," said Mona, with more interest.  "What else
+can one wear?  I nearly put on my best one, but I thought I hadn't
+better."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, not your best."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what else is there to wear?  Do you always have a print one like
+you've got on now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and big aprons, and sleeves.  Then one can tell when they are
+dirty."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I thought you put on that 'cause you were wearing out what you'd got
+left over.  You were in service, weren't you, before you married father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't got any print dresses.  I haven't even got a white one.
+I've two aprons like this," holding out a fanciful thing trimmed with
+lace.  "That's all, and I never saw any sleeves; I don't know what they
+are like."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to get you some as soon as father has his next big haul.
+You'd like to wear nice clean prints, if you'd got them, wouldn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" eagerly.  But after a moment she added: "I do want a summer
+hat, though, and I don't s'pose I could have both?"  Her eyes sought her
+mother's face anxiously.  Lucy looked grave and a little troubled.
+"Wasn't that your summer hat that you had on yesterday?  It was a very
+pretty one.  I'm so fond of wreaths of daisies and grasses, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I was&mdash;I'm tired of them now.  I wore that hat a lot last summer."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you?  Well, you kept it very nicely.  I thought it was a new one, it
+looked so fresh and pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to have one trimmed with forget-me-nots this year," Mona went on
+hurriedly, paying no heed to her mother's last remarks.</p>
+
+<p>"They are very pretty," agreed Lucy, absently.  In her mind she was
+wondering how she could find the money for all these different things.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got eighteenpence," broke in Mona, and the plunge was taken.
+She was keeping the eighteen-pence, though she knew it belonged either to
+her granny or to Lucy.  As soon as the words were spoken she almost wished
+them back again, but it was too late, and she went on her downhill way.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, if you'll get me the hat, I'll buy the wreath myself.  They've
+got some lovely ones down at Tamlin's for one and five three.  There are
+some at one and 'leven three, but that's sixpence more, and I haven't got
+enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, dear, we'll think about it.  It's early yet for summer hats."
+She was trying to think of things she could do without, that Mona might
+have her hat.  If she had been her own child, she would have told her
+plainly that she did not need, and could not have a new one, but it was
+not easy&mdash;as things were&mdash;to do that.</p>
+
+<p>Mona's heart leaped with joy.  Though she had known Lucy such a little
+while, she somehow felt that she could trust her not to forget.
+That when she said she would think about a thing, she would think about
+it, and already she saw with her mind's eye, the longed-for hat, the blue
+wreath, and the bow of ribbon, and her face beamed with happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"I can do without the aprons and the print frocks," she said, in the
+generosity of her heart, though it gave her a wrench.  But Lucy would not
+hear of that.  She had her own opinion about the grubby-looking blue
+serge, and the fancy apron, which were considered 'good enough' for
+mornings.</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear, you need them more than you need the hat.  If ever anyone
+should be clean it's when one is making beds, and cooking, and doing all
+that sort of thing, I think, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona had never given the subject a thought before.  In fact, she had done
+so little work while with her grandmother, and when she 'kept house'
+herself had cared so little about appearance or cleanliness, or anything,
+that it had never occurred to her that such things mattered.  But now that
+her stepmother appealed to her in this way she felt suddenly a sense of
+importance and a glow of interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! and I'll put my hair up, and always have on a nice white apron
+and a collar; they do look so pretty over pink frocks, don't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I must teach you how to wash and get them up."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"  Mona's interest grew suddenly lukewarm.  "I hate washing and
+ironing, don't you, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"I like other kinds of work better, perhaps.  I think I should like the
+washing if I didn't get so tired with it.  I don't seem to have the
+strength to do it as I want it done.  It is lovely, though, to see things
+growing clean under one's hand, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>But Mona had never learnt to take pride in her work.  "I don't know,"
+she answered indifferently.  "I should never have things that were
+always wanting washing."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy rose to go about her morning's work.  "Oh, come now," she said,
+smiling, "I can't believe that.  Don't you think your little room looks
+prettier with the white vallance and quilt and the frill across the window
+than it would without?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" Mona agreed enthusiastically.  "But then I didn't have to wash
+them and iron them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I had to, and I enjoyed it, because I was thinking how nice they
+would make your room look, and how pleased you would be."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see that.  If you were doing them for yourself, of course, you'd
+be pleased, but I can't see why anyone should be pleased about what other
+people may like."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mona! can't you?"  Lucy looked amazed.  "Haven't you ever heard the
+saying, 'there is more pleasure in giving than in receiving'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think I've heard it," said Mona, flippantly, "but I never saw any
+sense in it.  There's lots of things said that ain't a bit true."</p>
+
+<p>"This is true enough," said Lucy quietly, "and I hope you'll find it so
+for yourself, or you will miss half the pleasure in life."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't believe in any of those old sayings," retorted Mona,
+rising too.  "Anyway, receiving's good enough for me!" and she laughed
+boisterously, thinking she had said something new and funny.</p>
+
+<p>A little cloud rested for a moment on Lucy's face, but only for a moment.
+"It isn't nice to hear you speak like that, Mona," she said quietly,
+a note of pain in her voice, "but I can't make myself believe yet that you
+are as selfish as you make out.  I believe," looking across at her
+stepdaughter with kindly, smiling eyes, "that you've got as warm a heart
+as anybody, really."</p>
+
+<p>And at the words and the look all the flippant, silly don't-careishness
+died out of Mona's thoughts and manner.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, presently, when in her own little room again, she opened her little
+blue purse and looked in it, a painful doubt arose in her mind.  It was
+nice to be considered good-hearted, but was she really so?
+And unselfish?  "If I was, wouldn't I make my last year's hat do?
+Wouldn't I give back the eighteenpence?"  What tiresome questions they
+were to come poking and pushing forward so persistently.  Anyhow, her
+mother knew now that she wanted a hat, and she knew that she had the
+money, and that she was going to spend it on herself&mdash;and yet she had
+called her unselfish!</p>
+
+<p>And downstairs, Lucy, with an anxious face, and a weight at her heart, was
+thinking to herself, "If Mona had lived much longer the idle, selfish life
+she has been living, her character would have been ruined, and there is so
+much that is good in her!  Poor child, poor Mona!  She has never had a
+fair chance yet to learn to show the best side of her, and I doubt if I'm
+the one to teach her.  I couldn't be hard with her if I tried, and being
+her stepmother will make things more difficult for me than for most.
+I couldn't live in the house with strife.  I must try other means, and,"
+she added softly, "ask God to help me."</p>
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3>
+
+
+<p>For a while, after that talk with her mother, Mona worked with a will.
+She swept, and scrubbed, and polished the stove and the windows and helped
+with the washing and ironing, until Lucy laughingly declared there would
+soon be nothing left for her to do.</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what I want," declared Mona.  "I want you not to have
+anything to do.  Perhaps I can't manage the cooking yet, but I'll learn to
+in time."  Excited by the novelty and change, and buoyed up by the
+prospect of her new hat, and new frocks and aprons too, she felt she could
+do anything, and could not do enough in return for all that was to be done
+for her, and, when Mona made up her mind to work, there were few who could
+outdo her.  She would go on until she was ready to drop.</p>
+
+<p>As the spring days grew warmer, she would get so exhausted that Lucy
+sometimes had to interfere peremptorily, and make her stop.  "Now you sit
+right down there, out of the draught, and don't you move a foot till I
+give you leave.  I will get you a nice cup of tea, and one of my new
+tarts; they're just this minute ready to come out of the oven."</p>
+
+<p>A straight screen, reaching from floor to ceiling, stood at one side of
+the door, to keep off some of the draught and to give some little privacy
+to those who used the kitchen.  Mona dried her hands and slipped
+gratefully into the chair that stood between the screen and the end of the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother, this is nice," she sighed, her face radiant, though her
+shoulders drooped a little with tiredness.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it beautiful?  I love these sunny, quiet afternoons, when
+everything is peaceful, and the sea quite calm."  Her eyes looked beyond
+the little kitchen to the steep, sunny street outside, and beyond that
+again to where the blue sea heaved and glittered in the distance.
+The little window, as well as the door, stood wide open, letting in the
+scent of the sun-warmed wallflowers, and box, and boy's love.
+The bees buzzed contentedly over the beds.  One made his way in to Lucy's
+plants in the window.</p>
+
+<p>"I seem to smell the sea even through the scent of the flowers,"
+said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure I do.  I can't think how people can choose to live inland, can
+you, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose they choose, they just live where God has seen fit to
+place them&mdash;where their work lies."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I hope my work will always be in some place near the sea," said
+Mona decidedly.  "I don't think I could live away from it."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy smiled.  "I think you could, dear, if you made up your mind to it!
+I am sure you are not a coward."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see that it has got anything to do with being a coward or not,"
+objected Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"But indeed it has.  If people can't face things they don't like without
+grumbling all the time they are cowards.  It is as cruel and cowardly to
+keep on grumbling and complaining about what you don't like as it is brave
+to face it and act so that people never guess what your real feelings are.
+Think of my mother now.  She loved living in a town, with all that there
+is to see and hear and interest one, and, above all, she loved London.
+It was home to her, and every other place was exile.  Yet when, after they
+had been married a couple of years, her husband made up his mind to live
+right away in the country, she never grumbled, though she must have felt
+lonely and miserable many a time.  Her mother, and all belonging to her,
+lived in London, and I know she had a perfect dread of the country.
+She was afraid of the loneliness.  Then my father tried his hand at
+farming and lost all his savings, and after that there was never a penny
+for anything but the barest of food and clothing, and sometimes not enough
+even for that.  Well, I am quite sure that no one ever heard a word of
+complaint from mother's lips, and when poor father reproached himself,
+as he did very often, with having brought ruin on her, she'd say,
+'Tom, I married you for better or worse, for richer or poorer.  I didn't
+marry you on condition you stayed always in one place and earned so much a
+week.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Mother didn't think she was being brave by always keeping a cheerful face
+and a happy heart&mdash;but father did, and I do, now.  I understand things
+better than I did.  I can see there's ever so much more bravery in denying
+yourself day after day what you want, and bearing willingly what you don't
+like, than there is in doing some big deed that you carry through on the
+spur of the moment."</p>
+
+<p>Mona sat silent, gazing out across the flowers in the window to the sky
+beyond.  "There's ever so much more bravery in denying yourself what you
+want."  The words rang in her head most annoyingly.  Could Lucy have
+spoken them on purpose?  No, Mona honestly did not think that, but she
+wished she had not uttered them.  She tried to think of something else,
+and, unconsciously, her mother helped her.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to go to see mother on Monday or Tuesday, if I can.  Do you think
+you'll mind being left here alone for a few hours?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked round at her with a smile.  "Why, of course not!  I used to
+spend hours here alone.  I'll find plenty to do while you're gone.
+I'll write to granny, for one thing.  I promised I would.  I could take up
+some of the weeds in the garden, too."</p>
+
+<p>She was eager to do something for her stepmother, so that she herself
+would feel more easy in her mind about the one thing she could not summon
+up courage to do.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if you'll do a little weeding it'll be fine.  I'm ashamed to see our
+path, and the wallflowers are nearly choked, but I daren't do it.
+I can't stoop so long."</p>
+
+<p>On Sunday Mona went to Sunday school for the first time, and was not a
+little pleased to find that her last year's hat, with the daisy wreath,
+was prettier than any other hat there.  With every admiring glance she
+caught directed at it her spirits rose.  She loved to feel that she was
+admired and envied.  It never entered her head that she made some of the
+children feel mortified and discontented with their own things.</p>
+
+<p>"If they think such a lot of this one, I wonder what they'll think of me
+having another new one soon!"  To conceal the elation in her face,
+she bent over her books, pretending to be absorbed in the lesson.
+Miss Lester, the teacher, looked at her now and again with grave,
+questioning eyes.  She was wondering anxiously if this little stranger was
+going to bring to an end the peace and contentment of the class.
+"Is she going to make my poor children realise how poor and shabby their
+clothes are, and fill their heads with thoughts of dress?"  She said
+nothing aloud, however.  She was only a little kinder, perhaps, to the
+most shabby of them all.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, who had been quite conscious of her teacher's glances, never doubted
+but that they were glances of admiration, and was, in consequence,
+extremely pleased.  She returned home quite elated by her Sunday
+afternoon's experiences.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, at about eleven, Lucy started on her three mile walk to her
+mother's.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it too far for you?" asked Mona, struck anew by her stepmother's
+fragile appearance.  "Hadn't you better put it off till you're stronger?"</p>
+
+<p>But Lucy shook her head.  "Oh, no, I shall manage it.  If I go to-day I
+shall be able to have a lift home in Mr. Lobb's cart.  It's his day.
+So I shall only have three miles to walk, and I do want to see mother.
+She has been so bad again."</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not try any more to stop her, but bustled around helping her to
+get ready.  "If you hadn't been going to drive back, I'd have come to meet
+you.  Never mind, I expect I'll be very busy," and she smiled to herself
+at the thought of all she was going to do, and of the nice clean kitchen
+and tempting meal she would have ready by the time Mr. Lobb's cart
+deposited Lucy at the door again.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, don't do too much, and tire yourself out, dear," said Lucy,
+warningly.  "There isn't really much that needs doing," but Mona smiled
+knowingly.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Lucy had really started and was out of sight, she washed and
+put away the few cups and plates, and swept up the hearth.  Then, getting
+a little garden fork and an old mat, she sallied forth to the garden.
+There certainly were a good many weeds in the path, and, as the ground was
+trodden hard, they were not easy to remove.  Those in the flower beds were
+much easier.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do the beds first," thought Mona.  "After all, that's the right way
+to begin."  So she dug away busily for some time, taking great care to dig
+deep, and lift the roots right out.  "While I am about it, I may as well
+turn all the earth over to make it nice and soft for the flowers.
+I don't know how they ever manage to grow in such hard, caked old stuff,
+poor little things."</p>
+
+<p>Here and there a 'poor little thing' came up root and all, as well as the
+weed, or instead of it, but Mona quickly put it back again, and here and
+there one had its roots torn away and loosened.  In fact, most of Lucy's
+plants found themselves wrenched from the cool, moist earth they loved,
+and their hold on life gone.  Presently Mona came to a large patch of
+forget-me-nots.  The flowers were not yet out, but there was plenty of
+promise for by and by.  It was not, though, the promise of buds, nor the
+plant itself which caused Mona to cease her work suddenly, and sit back on
+her heels, lost in thought.</p>
+
+<p>"I've a good mind to go down now this minute and get it," she exclaimed
+eagerly, "while mother's away.  Buying a hat won't seem much if she hasn't
+got to buy the trimmings.  And&mdash;and if&mdash;if I don't get the wreath,
+Mr. Tamlin may&mdash;may sell it before mother goes there."</p>
+
+<p>This fear made her spring from her knees.  Without any further hesitation,
+she rushed, into the house, washed and tidied herself, got her blue purse
+from the drawer in which it was still hidden, and in ten minutes from the
+moment the thought first struck her she was hurrying down the street,
+leaving the mat and the fork where she had been using them.  But she could
+think of nothing.  Indeed, she could scarcely breathe for excitement until
+she reached Tamlin's shop, and, to her enormous relief, saw the blue
+wreaths still hanging there.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, it is much the best way to buy it now and take it home,"
+Mona argued with herself.  "It will only get dirty and faded where it is."</p>
+
+<p>She felt a little nervous at entering the big shop by herself, especially
+as she seemed to be the only customer, and the attendants had no one else
+at whom to stare.  She went up to the one who had the pleasantest smile
+and looked the least grand of them all.</p>
+
+<p>"Forget-me-nots?  Oh, yes, dear, we have some lovely flowers this season,
+all new in.  Perhaps you'd prefer roses.  We have some beautiful roses,
+pink, red, yellow, and white ones&mdash;and wreaths, we have some sweet
+wreaths, moss and rose buds, and sweet peas and grasses."  She proceeded
+to drag out great boxes full of roses of all shapes and kinds.
+Mona looked at them without interest.  "No, thank you I want
+forget-me-nots."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, there's no harm in looking at the others, is there?  I've got
+some sweet marg'rites too.  I'll show you.  P'raps you'll change your mind
+when you see them.  Blue ties you so, doesn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've got daisies on a hat already.  I'm tired of them.  I want something
+different."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, we all like a change, don't we?  I'll show you a wreath&mdash;
+perfectly sweet it is, apple-blossom and leaves; it might be real, it's so
+perfect."  And away she went again for another box.</p>
+
+<p>Mona felt as though her eighteenpence was shrivelling smaller and smaller.
+It seemed such a ridiculously small sum to have come shopping with, and
+she wished she had never done so.  The girl dropped a huge box on the
+counter, and whipped the cover off.  She was panting a little from the
+weight of it.  Mona longed to sink out of sight, she was so ashamed of the
+trouble she was giving, and only eighteenpence to spend after all!</p>
+
+<p>"There, isn't that sweet, and only three and eleven three."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona was by this time feeling so ashamed and bothered and
+uncomfortable, she would not bring herself to look at the flowers.
+"Yes, thank you, it's very pretty, but&mdash;but&mdash;it's too dear&mdash;and&mdash;I want
+forget-me-nots."</p>
+
+<p>Then, summoning up all the courage she had left,  "You've got some wreaths
+for one and fivepence three-farthings; it's one of those I want."</p>
+
+<p>The girl's face changed, and her manner too.  "Oh, it's one of the cheap
+wreaths you want, like we've got in the window," and from another box she
+dragged out one of the kind Mona had gazed at so longingly, and, without
+handing it to her to look at, popped it into a bag, screwed up the top,
+and pushed it across the counter.  "One and five three," she snapped
+rudely, and, while Mona was extracting her eighteenpence from her purse,
+she turned to another attendant who had been standing looking on and
+listening all the time.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Jones, dear, will you help me put all these boxes away."</p>
+
+<p>Mona noticed the sneer in her voice, the glances the two exchanged.
+She saw, too, Miss Jones's pitying smile and toss of her head, and she
+walked out of the shop with burning cheeks and a bursting heart.
+She longed passionately to throw down the wreath she carried and trample
+on it&mdash;and as for Tamlin's shop!  She felt that nothing would ever induce
+her to set foot inside it again.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mona, as she hurried up the street with her longed-for treasure&mdash;now
+detestable in her eyes&mdash;all the sunshine and happiness seemed to have gone
+out of her days.  She went along quickly, with her head down.  She felt
+she did not want to see or speak to anyone just then.  She hurried through
+the garden, where the patch of newly-turned earth was already drying under
+the kiss of the sun, and the wallflowers were beginning to droop, but she
+saw nothing of it all.  She only wanted to get inside and shut and bolt
+the door, and be alone with herself and her anger.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" she cried passionately, flinging the wreath across the kitchen,
+"take that! I hate you&mdash;I hate the sight of you!"  She would have cried,
+but that she had made up her mind that she would not.  "I'll never wear
+the hateful thing&mdash;I couldn't!  If I was to meet that girl when I'd got it
+on I&mdash;I'd never get over it!  And there's all my money gone; wasted, and&mdash;
+and&mdash;&mdash;"  At last the tears did come, in spite of her, and Mona's heart
+felt relieved.</p>
+
+<p>She picked out the paper bag from inside the fender, and, carrying it
+upstairs, thrust it inside the lid of her box.  "There! and I hope I'll
+never see the old thing ever any more, and then, p'raps, in time I'll
+forget all about it."</p>
+
+<p>As she went down the stairs again to the kitchen she remembered that her
+father would be home in a few minutes to his dinner, and that she had to
+boil some potatoes.  "Oh, dear&mdash;I wish&mdash;I wish&mdash;&mdash;"  But what was the use
+of wishing!  She had the forget-me-nots she had so longed for&mdash;and what
+was the result!</p>
+
+<p>"I'll never, never wish for anything again," she thought ruefully,
+"but I suppose that wishing you'd got something, and wishing you
+hadn't forgot something, are two different things, though both make you
+feel miserable," she added gloomily.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment she sat, overwhelmed by all that she had done and had left
+undone.  The emptiness and silence of the house brought to her a sense of
+loneliness.  The street outside was empty and silent too, except for two
+old women who walked by with heavy, dragging steps.  One of the two was
+talking in a patient, pathetic voice, but loudly, for her companion was
+deaf.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no cure for trouble like work, I know that.  I've had more'n my
+share of trouble, and if it hadn't been that I'd got the children to care
+for, and my work cut out to get 'em bread to eat, I'd have give in;
+I couldn't have borne all I've had to bear&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The words reached Mona distinctly through the silence.  She rose to her
+feet.  "P'raps work'll help me to bear mine," she thought bitterly.
+"When my man and my two boys was drowned that winter, I'd have gone out of
+my mind if I hadn't had to work to keep a home for the others&mdash;&mdash;"
+The voices died away in the distance, and Mona's bitterness died away too.</p>
+
+<p>"Her man, and her two boys&mdash;three of them dead, all drowned in one day&mdash;
+oh, how awful!  How awful!"  Mona's face blanched at the thought of the
+tragedy.  The very calmness with which it was told made it seem worse,
+more real, more inevitable.  Even the sunshine and peace about her made it
+seem more awful.  Compared with such a trouble, her own was too paltry.
+It was not a trouble at all.  She felt ashamed of herself for the fuss she
+had been making, and without more ado she bustled round to such good
+purpose that when her father returned to his meal she had it all cooked
+and ready to put on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a good maid," he said, encouragingly.  "Why, you've grown a
+reg'lar handy little woman.  You'll be a grand help to your poor mother."</p>
+
+<p>"I do want to be," said Mona, but she did not feel as confident about it
+as her father did.  "I'm going to have everything ready for her by the
+time she gets home."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right, I shan't be home till morning, most likely, so you'll have
+to take care of her.  She'll be fairly tired out, what with walking three
+miles in the sun, and then being rattled about in Mr. Lobb's old cart.
+The roads ain't fit for a horse to travel over."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think she'd be here about six, shouldn't she, father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's about the old man's time, but there's no reckoning on him for
+certain.  He may have to go a mile or more out of his way, just for one
+customer."</p>
+
+<p>Apparently that was what he had to do that day, for six came and went, and
+seven o'clock had struck, and darkness had fallen before the cart drew up
+at Cliff Cottage, and Lucy clambered stiffly down from her hard,
+uncomfortable seat.</p>
+
+<p>She was tired out and chilly, but at the sound of the wheels the cottage
+door was flung open, letting out a wide stream of cheerfulness, which made
+her heart glow and drove her weariness away.  Inside, the home all was
+neat and cosy, the fire burned brightly, and the table was laid ready
+for a meal.  Lucy drew a deep breath of happiness and relief.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is nice to get home again," she sighed contentedly, "and most of
+all to find someone waiting for you, Mona dear."</p>
+
+<p>And Mona's heart danced with pleasure and happy pride.  She felt well
+repaid for all she had done.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Mona woke the next morning she felt vaguely that something was
+missing.  "Why it's the smell of the wallflowers!" she cried, after lying
+for some minutes wondering what it could be.  But in her new desire to get
+dressed and downstairs early she did not give the matter another thought.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy, coming down later, stepped to the door for a moment to breathe in
+the sunshine and sweet morning air.  "Oh," she cried, and her voice rang
+out sharply, full of dismay, "Oh, Mona, come quick.  Whatever has happened
+to our wallflowers!  Why, look at them!  They are all dead!  Oh, the poor
+things!  Someone must have pulled them up in sheer wickedness!  Isn't it
+cruel?  Isn't it shameful!"</p>
+
+<p>Mona, rushing to the door to look, found Lucy on her knees by the dying
+plants, the tears dropping from her eyes.  Only yesterday they were so
+happy and so beautiful, a rich carpet of brown, gold, tawny, and crimson,
+all glowing in the sunshine, and filling the air with their glorious
+scent&mdash;and now!  Oh, it was pitiful, pitiful.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll fill a tub with water and plunge them all in," cried Lucy,
+frantically collecting her poor favourites&mdash;then suddenly she dropped
+them.  "No, no, I won't, I'll bury them out of sight.  I could never give
+them new life.  Oh, who could have been so wicked?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona was standing beside her, white-faced and silent.  At her mother's
+last question, she opened her lips for the first time.  "I&mdash;I did it,"
+she gasped in a horrified voice.  "I&mdash;didn't know, I must have done it
+when I was weeding.  Oh, mother, I am so sorry.  What can I do&mdash;oh,
+what can I do!"</p>
+
+<p>"You!  Oh, Mona!"  But at the sight of Mona's distress Lucy forgot her
+own.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind.  It can't be helped.  'Twas an accident, of course, and no
+one can prevent accidents.  Don't fret about it, dear.  Of course,
+you wouldn't have hurt them if you'd known what you were doing!"</p>
+
+<p>But her words failed to comfort Mona, for in her inmost heart she knew
+that she should have known better, that she could have helped it.
+It was just carelessness again.</p>
+
+<p>"They wouldn't have lasted more than a week or two longer, I expect,"
+added Lucy, consolingly, trying to comfort herself as well as Mona.
+"Now, we'll get this bed ready for the ten-weeks stocks.  It will do the
+ground good to rest a bit.  I daresay the stocks will be all the finer for
+it later on."  But still Mona was not consoled.</p>
+
+<p>"If I hadn't run away and left them to go and buy that hateful wreath,"
+she was thinking.  "If only I had remembered to press the earth tight
+round them again&mdash;if&mdash;if only I'd been more careful when I was weeding,
+and&mdash;if, if, if!  It's all ifs with me!"  Aloud, she said bitterly,
+"I only seem to do harm to everything I touch.  I'd better give up!
+If I don't do anything, p'raps I shan't do mischief."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy laughed.  "Poor old Paddy," she cried.  "Why, you couldn't live and
+not do anything.  Every minute of your life you are doing something, and
+when you are doing what you call 'nothing' you will be doing mischief,
+if it's only in setting a bad example.  And you can work splendidly if you
+like, Mona, and you <i>do</i> like, I know.  I shan't forget for a long while
+how nice you'd got everything by the time I came home last night, and how
+early you got up this morning."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face brightened.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got to learn to think, that's all, dear; and to remember to finish
+off one thing before you leave it to go to another.  It's just the want of
+that that lies at the root of most of your trouble."</p>
+
+<p>A sound of many feet hurrying along the street and of shouting voices made
+Lucy break off suddenly, and sent them both running to the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Boats are in sight, missis.  Fine catch!" called one and another as they
+hurried along.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Mona looked at each other with glad relief in their eyes.
+There had been no real cause for anxiety because the little fishing fleet
+had not been home at dawn, yet now they knew that they had been a little
+bit anxious, Lucy especially, and their pleasure was all the greater.
+For a moment Mona, in her excitement, was for following the rest to the
+quay where the fish would be landed.  It was so exciting, such fun, to be
+in all the bustle of the unloading, and the selling&mdash;and to know that for
+a time, at any rate, money would not be scarce, and rent and food and
+firing would be secure.</p>
+
+<p>Mona loved nothing better than such mornings as this&mdash;but her first step
+was her last.  "I won't remember 'too late' this time," she said to
+herself determinedly, and turning, she made her way quickly into the
+house.  There would be more than enough to do to get ready.  There would
+be hot water, dry clothes, and a hot breakfast to get for the tired, cold,
+famished father.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you sit down, mother, and stoke the fire, I'll see to the rest," and
+for the next hour she flew around, doing one thing after another, and as
+deftly as a woman.  She was so busy and so happy she forgot all about the
+beach and the busy scene there, the excitement, and the fun.</p>
+
+<p>But before Lucy did any 'stoking' she went out with a rake and smoothed
+over the rough earth of the empty wallflower bed.  "If it's looking tidy,
+perhaps he won't notice anything's wrong when he first comes home,"
+she thought.  "When he's less tired he'll be able to bear the
+disappointment better."  She knew that if he missed his flowers one of his
+chief pleasures in his homecoming would be gone, and she almost dreaded to
+hear the sound of his footsteps because of the disappointment in store for
+him.  Because she could not bear to see it, she stayed in the kitchen,
+and only Mona went out to meet him.  Lucy heard his loved voice, hoarse
+and tired, but cheerful still.  "Hullo, my girl!" he cried, "how's mother,
+and how 'ave 'ee got on?  I was 'fraid she'd be troubling.  Hullo!  Why,
+what's happened to our wallflowers?"</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of the dismay in his voice, Lucy had to go out.  "Poor Mona,"
+she thought, "it's hard on her!  Why, father!" she cried brightly,
+standing in the doorway with a glad face and happy welcome.  "We're so
+glad to see you at last.  Make haste in, you must be tired to death, and
+cold through and through.  Mona's got everything ready for you, as nice as
+can be.  She's worked hard since we heard the boats were come.  We've all
+got good appetites for our breakfast, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>Then, in his pleasure at seeing his wife and child again, Peter Carne
+forgot all about his flowers.  Putting his arms around them both, he gave
+them each a hearty kiss, and all went in together.  "I ain't hardly fit
+to," he said, laughing, "but you're looking as fresh and sweet as two
+daisies this morning."</p>
+
+<p>Diving his hand deep into his pocket, he drew out a handful of gold and
+silver.  "Here, mother, here's something you'll be glad of!  Now, Mona, my
+girl," as he dropped into his arm-chair, "where's my old slippers?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona picked them up from the fender, where they had been warming, and,
+kneeling down, she pulled off his heavy boots.  Once more she was filled
+with the feeling that if she could only do something to make up for the
+harm she had done she would not feel so bad.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank'ee, little maid.  Oh, it's good to be home again!"  He leaned back
+and stretched his tired limbs with a sigh of deep content.  "But I mustn't
+stop here, I must go and have a wash, and change into dry things before I
+have my breakfast.  I can tell you, I'm more than a bit hungry.  When I've
+had it I've got to go down and clean out the boat."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not till you've had a few hours' sleep," coaxed Lucy.  "You must have
+some rest, father.  I've a good mind to turn the key on you."</p>
+
+<p>Her husband laughed too.  "There's no need for locks and keys to-day,"
+he said, ruefully.  "If I was to start out I believe I'd have to lie down
+in the road and have a nap before I got to the bottom of the street.
+I'll feel better when I've had a wash."</p>
+
+<p>As he stumbled out of the kitchen Lucy picked up the coins lying on the
+table, and put them in a little locked box in the cupboard.  Mona, coming
+back into the kitchen from putting her father's sea-boots away, saw that
+there seemed to be quite a large sum.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I have my new hat?" she wondered eagerly.  "There's plenty of money
+now."  But Lucy only said, "I'll have to get wool to make some new
+stockings for your father, and a jersey, and I'll have to go to Baymouth
+to get it.  Mr. Tamlin doesn't keep the right sort.  Can you knit
+stockings, Mona?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye&mdash;es, but I hate&mdash;&mdash;"  She drew herself up sharply.  "Yes, I can, but
+I'd rather scrub, or sweep, or&mdash;or anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, I'll make them.  I'm fond of all that kind of work.
+I'll have to be quick about the jersey, for I see that one he's got on has
+a great hole in the elbow, and he's only got his best one besides.
+I'd better go to Baymouth on Wednesday.  It won't do to put it off."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could take you with me," she said to Mona regretfully when the
+Wednesday came, and she was getting ready to start.  "I would, only your
+father thinks he'll be back about tea-time, and he'll need a hot meal when
+he comes.  Never mind, dear, you shall go next time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;h&mdash;that's all right." Mona tried to speak cheerfully, but neither
+face nor voice looked or sounded all right!  The thought uppermost in her
+mind was that there was no chance of her having her new hat.  Her mother
+could not get that unless she was there to try it on.</p>
+
+<p>She saw her mother off, and she did try to be pleasant, but she could not
+help a little aggrieved feeling at her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny would have bought me one before now," she said to herself.
+She did really want not to have such thoughts.  She still felt mean and
+uncomfortable about the wreath, and in her heart she knew that her
+stepmother was kinder to her than she deserved.</p>
+
+<p>When she had done the few things she had to do, and had had her dinner,
+and changed her frock, she went out into the garden.  It would be less
+lonely there, she thought, and she could weed the path a little.
+She would never touch one of the flower beds again!  Before she had been
+out there long, Millie Higgins came down the hill.  At the sight of Mona,
+Millie drew up.  "So you ain't gone to Baymouth too?" she said, leaning
+over the low stone wall, and evidently prepared for a talk.  "I saw your
+mother starting off.  Why didn't she take you with her?  You'd have liked
+to have gone, wouldn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Mona admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, why didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody had to be here to look after father.  He'll be home before
+mother gets back."</p>
+
+<p>Millie Higgins snorted sarcastically.  "Very nice for some people to be
+able to go off and enjoy themselves and leave others to look after things
+for them!  If I were you I'd say I'd like to go too."</p>
+
+<p>Mona resented Millie's tone.  A sense of fairness rose within her too.
+"If I'd said I wanted to go, I daresay I could have gone," she retorted
+coldly.  "I'm going another time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, are you?  Well, that's all right as long as you are satisfied,"
+meaningly.  "Good-bye," and with a nod Millie took herself off.
+But before she had gone more than a few paces she was back again.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on out and play for a bit, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to," Mona hesitated, "but I don't know for certain what time
+father'll get back."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I do!  I know they won't be home yet awhile.  They'll wait till the
+tide serves.  Come along, Mona, you might as well come out and play for
+half an hour as stick moping here.  You might spend all your life waiting
+about for the old boats to come in, and never have a bit of pleasure if
+you don't take it when you can.  We'll go down to the quay, then you'll be
+able to see the boats coming.  After they're in sight there'll be heaps of
+time to run home and get things ready."</p>
+
+<p>The temptation was great, too great.  Mona loved the quay, and the life
+and cheerfulness there.  Towards evening all the children in the place
+congregated there, playing 'Last touch,' 'Hop-Scotch,' and all the rest of
+the games they loved, to a chorus of shouts, and screams, and laughter.
+Then there was the sea to look at too, so beautiful and grand, and
+awe-inspiring in the fading light.  Oh, how dearly she loved it all!</p>
+
+<p>In her ears Millie's words still rang: "You might spend all your life
+waiting about for the old boats, and never have a bit of pleasure, if you
+don't take it when you can."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute," she said eagerly, "I'll just put some coal on the fire
+and get my hat."</p>
+
+<p>She banked up a good fire, unhung her hat, and, pulling the door after
+her, ran out to Millie again, "I'm ready now," she said excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>When they arrived at the quay they received a very warm welcome; they were
+just in time to take part in a game of 'Prisoners.'  After that they had
+one of 'Tip,' and one or two of 'Hop-Scotch,' then 'Prisoners' again; and
+how many more Mona could never remember, for she had lost count of time,
+and everything but the fun, until she was suddenly brought to her senses
+by a man's voice saying, "Well, it's time they were in, the clock struck
+seven ten minutes agone."</p>
+
+<p>"Seven!" Mona was thunderstruck.  "Did you say seven?" she gasped, and
+scarcely waiting for an answer she took to her heels and tore up the
+street to her home.  Her mind was full of troubled thoughts.  The fire
+would be out, the house all in darkness.  She had only pulled the front
+door behind her, she had not locked it.  Oh, dear! what a number of things
+she had left undone!  What a muddle she had made of things.  When, as she
+drew near the house, she saw a light shining from the kitchen window, her
+heart sank lower than ever it had done before.</p>
+
+<p>"Father must have come!  Oh! and me not there, and&mdash;and nothing ready.
+Oh, I wouldn't have had it happen for anything."  She rushed up to the
+house so fast and burst into the kitchen so violently that her mother, who
+was sitting in her chair, apparently lost in thought, sprang up in alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mona! it's you!  You frightened me so, child.  Where's your father,"
+she asked anxiously.  "Haven't you seen him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he hasn't come yet."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy's face grew as white as a lily.  Her eyes were full of terror, which
+always haunted her.  "P'raps he came home while you were out, and went out
+again when he found the house empty."</p>
+
+<p>"He couldn't.  I've been on the quay all the time.  The boats couldn't
+have come in without my seeing them.  I was waiting for him.  Everybody
+was saying how late they were.  They couldn't think why."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;they are dreadfully late&mdash;but I&mdash;I didn't think you'd have gone out
+and left the house while I was away," said Lucy with gentle reproach.
+"But, as you did, you should have locked the door behind you.  I s'pose
+Mr. King called before you left?"</p>
+
+<p>"He hasn't been," faltered Mona, her heart giving a great throb.  She had
+entirely forgotten that the landlord's agent was coming for his rent that
+afternoon.  "The money's on the dresser.  I put it there."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it? I couldn't see it.  I looked for it at once when I found the door
+wide open and nobody here."</p>
+
+<p>"Open!  I shut it after me.  I didn't lock it, but I pulled the door fast
+after me.  You can't have looked in the right place, mother.  I put it by
+the brown jug."  And, never doubting but that her mother had overlooked
+it, Mona searched the dressers herself.  But there was no money on them,
+not even a farthing for the baker.  "But I put it there!  I put it there
+myself!" she kept repeating more and more frantically.  She got upon a
+chair and searched every inch of every shelf, and turned every jug and cup
+upside down.  "It <i>must</i> be somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, somewhere!  But it isn't here, and it isn't in Mr. King's pocket."
+Poor Lucy sank back in her chair looking ready to faint.  Five shillings
+meant much to her.  It was so horrible, too, to feel that a thief had been
+in, and had perhaps gone all over the house.  Who could say what more he
+had taken, or what mischief he had done.</p>
+
+<p>She was disappointed also in her trust in Mona, and she was tired and
+faint from want of food.  All her pleasure in her day and in her
+homecoming was gone, changed to worry and weariness and disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>"But who can have been so wicked as to take it!" cried Mona passionately.
+"Nobody had any right to open our door and come into our house.
+It's hard to think one can't go out for a few minutes but what somebody
+must come and act dishonest&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We can't talk about others not doing right if we don't do right
+ourselves!  Your father and I left you here in charge, and you undertook
+the charge.  We trusted you."</p>
+
+<p>Mona got down from the chair.  "It's very hard if I can't ever go
+anywhere&mdash;I only went for a little while.  Millie said father wouldn't be
+here&mdash;the boats weren't in sight.  And you see she was right!  They are
+ever so late."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose we are all made differently, but I couldn't have played
+games knowing that the boats ought to have been in, and not knowing what
+might have happened to my father."</p>
+
+<p>"I get tired of always sticking around, waiting on the old boats.  I never
+thought of there being any danger, they're so often late.  It was only
+towards the end that people came down looking for them and wondering."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy groaned.  "Well, I'm thankful you don't suffer as I do, child.
+P'raps I'm foolish, but I'm terrified of the sea, and I never get
+accustomed to the danger of it."  And she looked so white and wan, Mona's
+heart was touched, and some of the sullenness died out of her face and
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought&mdash;there was only a little wind," she began, when a sharp
+rap at the door interrupted her, then the latch was raised, and the door
+opened briskly.  "Boats are in sight, Mrs. Carne! and all's well!" cried a
+voice cheerfully, and old Job Maunders popped his grizzled head round the
+screen.  "I thought you might be troubling, ma'am, so I just popped 'fore
+to tell 'ee.  I'm off down to see if I can lend a hand."</p>
+
+<p>And before Lucy could thank him, the kindly old man was hurrying away
+through the garden and down the street.</p>
+
+<p>But what changed feelings he had left behind him!  Tired though she was,
+Lucy was on her feet in a moment and her face radiant.  "Come, dear, we've
+got to bustle round now for a bit.  You run and get some sticks and make a
+good fire, and I'll get out his clean, dry things.  Then while I'm cooking
+the supper you can be laying the cloth."</p>
+
+<p>While she spoke she was gathering up a lot of parcels which were lying
+scattered over the table.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm longing to show you what I've bought."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," thought Mona, "and I am longing to see!"</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if you'll like what I've chosen for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder, too!" thought Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have a good look at everything when we've had supper.  Then we
+needn't be hurrying and scurrying all the time, and there'll be more
+room."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the upset to her feelings, Mona was interested, but all real
+pleasure was gone.  She knew that probably there was something for her in
+one of the fat parcels, but the thought of taking any more kindness from
+Lucy, to whom she had behaved so badly, was painful.  She wanted, instead,
+to make amends to replace the lost five shillings.  She longed to have the
+money to pay back, but she had not one penny!  All she could do was to
+work, and to go without things she wanted.  She could do the first better
+than the last, and she would rather.  She did not really mind working,
+but she did mind denying herself things she had set her heart on.
+"But I will, I will," she thought to herself while the shock of the theft
+was still on her.</p>
+
+<p>Before very long the fire was burning brightly, the kettle was beginning
+to sing, and Lucy was cooking the sausages and bacon she had brought back
+with her from Baymouth.  The savoury smell of them wafted through the
+kitchen and reached the hungry, weary man trudging heavily up the garden.
+Then Mona caught the sound of his coming, and rushed out, while Lucy stood
+behind her with radiant face and glowing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You must be chilled to the bone, and dead beat," she cried.  "Ain't you,
+father?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I was&mdash;but I ain't now.  It's worth everything just for the
+pleasure of coming back to a home like mine, my girl."</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mona was growing more and more impatient.  "Grown-ups do take so long over
+everything," she thought irritably.  "If it gets much later mother will
+say, 'there isn't time to open the parcels to-night, we must wait till
+morning!'  Oh, dear!"</p>
+
+<p>It was long past eight before they had sat down to their meal, and then,
+her father and mother both being very tired, they took it in such a
+leisurely fashion that Mona thought they never would have finished.
+They, of course, were glad to sit still and talk of their day's doings,
+but Mona, as soon as her hunger was satisfied, was simply longing to be up
+and examining the contents of the tempting-looking parcels which had
+waited so long on the side-table.</p>
+
+<p>She fidgeted with her knife and fork, she rattled her cup and shuffled
+her feet, but still her father went on describing his adventures,
+and still Lucy sat listening eagerly.  To them this was the happiest and
+most restful time of the day.  The day's work was done, duty would not
+call to them again until morning.  The kitchen was warm and comfortable.
+It was just the right time for a leisurely talk, but Mona did not realise
+this.</p>
+
+<p>At last, disturbed by her restlessness, her mother and father broke off
+their talk and got up from the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you have a pipe, father, while Mona and I put away the supper things.
+After that I'll be able to sit down and hear the rest of it.  I expect
+Mona's tired and wants to be off to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am not," said Mona sharply.  In her heart she grumbled, "Work,
+work, always work&mdash;never a bit of fun."  She had forgotten the hours she
+had spent playing on the quay only a little while before.  She would not
+remind her mother of the parcels, but sulked because she had forgotten
+them.  Lucy looked at her anxiously now and again, puzzled to know why her
+mood had changed so suddenly.  She was still puzzling over the matter,
+when, in putting something back on the side-table, she saw the pile of
+parcels.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mona," she cried, "I'd forgot all about my shopping, and the things
+I was going to show you.  Make haste and dry your hands and come and look.
+We'll be able to have a nice, quiet little time now before we go to bed!"</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face changed at once, and her whole manner too.  It did not take
+her long after that to finish up and be ready.</p>
+
+<p>"That," said Lucy, putting one big roll aside, "that's the blue wool for
+father.  We needn't open that now.  Oh, and this, is for you, dear,"
+pushing a big box towards Mona.  "I hope you will like it.  I thought it
+sweetly pretty.  Directly I saw it I thought to myself, now that'll just
+suit our Mona!  I seemed to see you wearing it."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's heart beat faster, her cheeks grew rosy with excitement.
+"Whatever can it be!" she wondered, and her fingers trembled so with
+eagerness, she was ever so long untying the string.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't like it," went on Lucy, busy untying the knots of another
+parcel, "Mr. Phillips promised he'd change it, if it wasn't damaged at
+all."</p>
+
+<p>How tantalising Lucy was!  Whatever could it be!  Then at last the knot
+gave way, and Mona lifted the lid, and pushed the silver paper aside.
+"Oh, mother!"  She clapped her hands in a rapture, her eyes sparkled with
+joy.  "Oh, mother!  It's&mdash;it's lovely.  I didn't know, I didn't think you
+could get me a hat to-day&mdash;oh&mdash;h!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you like it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's lovely!"</p>
+
+<p>"Try it on, and let us see if it suits you.  That's the chief thing, isn't
+it?"  Lucy tried to look grave, but she was nearly as excited and
+delighted as Mona herself.</p>
+
+<p>Mona put it on and looked at her mother with shy questioning.  She hoped
+so much that it did suit her, for she longed to keep it.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy gazed at her critically from all sides, then she nodded with grave
+approval.  "Yes, I never saw you in one that suited you better, to my
+mind.  Go and see for yourself&mdash;but wait a minute," as Mona was hurrying
+away to the scullery, where hung a little mirror about a foot square.
+"Don't treat that poor box so badly," as she rescued it from the floor,
+"there's something else in amongst all that paper.  Look again."</p>
+
+<p>Mona opened the box again, but her heart had sunk suddenly.  Yes, there it
+was, the very thing she had dreaded to see&mdash;a wreath of blue
+forget-me-nots and soft green leaves!  There was a piece of black ribbon
+velvet too, to make the whole complete.</p>
+
+<p>It was a charming wreath.  Compared with it, her own purchase seemed poor
+and common.</p>
+
+<p>Mona held it in her hand, gazing at it with lowered lids.  Then suddenly
+her eyes filled with tears.  "Oh, mother," she stammered brokenly.
+There was such real pain in her voice that Lucy looked at her in anxious
+surprise.  "Don't you like it?" she asked, disappointed.  She had hoped
+for a rapturous outburst of pleasure, and, instead, Mona stood silent,
+embarrassed, evidently on the verge of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you like it, dear?" she asked again.  "I thought you would have
+been pleased.  The blue on that silvery white straw looks so pretty,
+I think.  Don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona nodded, but did not speak.  "Mona, dear, what is it?  Tell me what's
+wrong?  I am sure there is something.  Perhaps I can help you, if I know."</p>
+
+<p>Tears had been near Mona's eyes for some moments, and the kindness in her
+mother's face and voice broke down all restraints.  Tossing the hat one
+way and the wreath another, Mona ran into Lucy's arms, sobbing bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;I must tell.  I can't keep it in any longer!  Oh, mother, I've got a
+wreath already, I bought it myself, and I hate it&mdash;oh, I hate it!
+I&mdash;I can't tell you how bad I've felt about it ever since I got it!"
+And then the whole of the miserable story came pouring out.  She kept
+nothing back.  She told of her keeping the eighteenpence, of her dream, of
+her mortification in the shop.  "And&mdash;and it seemed as if my dream came
+true," she said, when presently the worst was told.  "I was so crazy for
+the forget-me-nots that I couldn't get, that I never thought anything of
+the wallflowers close beside me, and then, when I had got forget-me-nots,
+I was disappointed; and when I lost the wallflowers, I began to think all
+the world of them!"</p>
+
+<p>Lucy, with her head resting against Mona's, as she held her in her arms,
+smiled sadly.  "It's the same with all of us, dear.  We're so busy looking
+into our neighbour's garden patch, envying them what they've got, that we
+don't see what we've got in our own, and, as like as not, trample it down
+with reaching up to look over the wall, and lose it altogether.  Now, pick
+up your hat and your flowers and try to get all the pleasure you can out
+of them.  I hoped they'd have brought you such a lot.  Or would you rather
+change the wreath for another?"</p>
+
+<p>But Mona would not hear of that.  "Oh, no, I wanted blue forget-me-nots,
+and these are lovely.  I'd rather have them than anything, thank you,
+mother."</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't have anything prettier," said Peter Carne, rousing suddenly
+from his nap.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy laughed.  "Now, father, whatever do you know about it!  You go to
+sleep again.  Mona and I are talking about finery."  She was busy undoing
+a large parcel of drapery.  "I've got the print here for your frocks,"
+she turned to Mona again.  "I'd have liked to have had both dark blue,
+but I thought you might fancy a pink one, so I got stuff for one of each.
+There, do you like them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Like them!  Oh, mother, are they really both for me!  And what pretty
+buttons!  Are those for me, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's all for you, dear."  Lucy's voice had begun to sound tired and
+faint.  She had had a long, wearying day, and the parcels had been heavy.
+Mona, though, did not notice anything.  She was busy arranging the wreath
+round the crown of her hat.  "If I only had a white dress, wouldn't it
+look nice with this!  Oh, I'd love to have a white dress.  If I'd stayed
+with granny, she was going to get me one this summer."</p>
+
+<p>Her father turned and looked across at them.  "What've you bought for
+yourself, Lucy, my girl?" he asked suddenly.  Lucy looked up in surprise.
+"I&mdash;oh, I didn't want anything, father," she said, somewhat embarrassed.
+"I don't need anything new this summer.  My dove-colour merino is as good
+as it was the day I bought it.  It seems foolish to&mdash;to buy new when one
+doesn't need it," she added hastily.  "It is only a trouble to keep."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean the one you were married in?" asked Peter shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy nodded.  "Yes&mdash;the one you liked.  I'll get myself a new pair of
+gloves.  I can get those at Tamlin's."</p>
+
+<p>"Um!" There was a deal of meaning in Peter Carne's 'Um.'  "Well, you'll
+never get one that's prettier, but you ought to have something new and
+nice, too.  And what about your medicine?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"  Lucy coloured.  "Oh, I&mdash;I'm trying to do without it.  It isn't good
+for anyone to be taking it too often."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what granny always says," chimed in Mona.  "She says if people get
+into the way of taking medicine they get to think they can't do without
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy's pale cheeks flushed pink, and a hurt look crept into her eyes.
+Her husband was deeply annoyed, and showed it.  "I think, my girl,"
+he said, in a sterner voice than Mona had ever heard before, "you'd better
+wait to offer your opinion until you are old enough to know what you are
+talking about.  You are more than old enough, though, to know that it's
+wrong to repeat what's said before you.  After all your mother's bought
+for you, too, I'd have thought," he broke off, for Mona's eyes were once
+more full of tears.  Never in her life before had her father spoken to her
+so severely.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I didn't mean any harm," she stammered, apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you should learn to think, and not say things that may do harm.
+If what's on your tongue to say is likely to hurt anybody's feelings, or
+to make mischief, then don't let it slip past your tongue.  You'll get on
+if you keep that rule in your mind."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy put her arm round her little stepdaughter, and drew her close.
+"I know that our Mona wouldn't hurt me wilfully," she said kindly.
+"She's got too warm a heart."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Carne patted Mona's shoulder tenderly.  "I know&mdash;I know she has.
+We've all got to learn and you can't know things unless they are pointed
+out to you.  I'm always thankful to them that helped me in that way when I
+was young.  Mona'll be glad, too, some day."</p>
+
+<p>"Grown-ups always say things like that," thought Mona, wistfully.  She did
+not feel at all glad then.  In fact, she felt so ashamed and so mortified,
+she thought gladness could never enter into her life again.</p>
+
+<p>It did come, though, for the hurt was not as deep as she thought.  It came
+the next day when her mother trimmed the new hat.  Lucy had good taste,
+and when living at the Grange she had often helped the young ladies with
+their millinery.</p>
+
+<p>"If I put the velvet bow just where the wreath joins, and let the ends
+hang just ever so little over the edge of the brim, I think it'll look
+nice and a little bit out of the common.  Don't you, dear?"  She held up
+the hat to show off the effect.  Mona thought it was lovely.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, as soon as ever I can I'll cut out your dresses, and, if you'll
+help me with the housework, I'll make them myself.  It won't take me so
+very long, with my machine."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke of it so lightly that Mona did not realise in the least what the
+fatigue of it would be to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll do everything," she said, cheerfully.  "You leave everything to
+me, mother, and only do your sewing, I can manage."</p>
+
+<p>And she did manage, and well, too, in the intervals of trying on, and
+admiring, and watching the frocks growing into shape and beauty under
+Lucy's hands.  They were quite plain little frocks, but in Mona's eyes
+they were lovely.  She could not decide which of them she liked best.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy finished off the pink one first, and as soon as it was completed Mona
+took it upstairs and put it on.  New dresses very seldom came her way, and
+she was in a great state of excitement.  She had never in her life before
+had one that she might put on on a week day and wear all day long.
+As a rule, one had to wait for Sunday, and then the frock might only be
+worn for a few hours, if the weather was fine, and as soon as ever church
+and Sunday school were over it had to be changed.</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't it look nice!" she cried, delightedly, running downstairs to show
+her mother.  "And it fits me like a glove!"  Her cheeks were almost as
+pink as her gown.  Her blue eyes glowed with pleasure.  She looked like a
+pretty pink blossom as she stood with the sunshine pouring in on her.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy smiled at the compliment to her skill.  "You do look nice, dear."</p>
+
+<p>Holding out her crisp, pink skirt, Mona danced gaily round the kitchen,
+the breeze blowing in at the open door ruffled her hair a little.
+She drew herself up, breathless, and glanced out.  Everything certainly
+looked very tempting out of doors.  She longed to go and have a run,
+the breeze and the sunshine seemed to be calling her.  She scarcely liked,
+though, to leave her mother, tired as she was, and still busy at the blue
+frock.</p>
+
+<p>While she was standing looking out, her father appeared at the gate,
+a letter in his hand.  He came up the path reading it.  When he came to
+the porch he looked up and saw Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my!  How smart we are!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like it, father?  Isn't it pretty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fine!  And now I s'pose you're longing to go out and show it off!"
+He laughed, and pinched her cheeks.  Mona felt quite guilty at his quick
+reading of her thoughts, but before she could reply he went on, more
+gravely, "I've got a letter from your grandmother.  She sends her love to
+you."  He went inside and put the letter down on the table before Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"She doesn't seem very well," he said, with a pucker on his brow, "and she
+complains of being lonely.  I'm very glad she's got nice neighbours handy.
+They'd be sure to run in and see her, and look after her a bit if she's
+bad.  I shouldn't like to feel she was ailing, and all alone."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face dropped, and her heart too.  She felt horribly guilty.
+"Would Mrs. Lane go in and sit with her for company?  Would she look after
+her if she was bad?  Had they made up their quarrel?" she wondered,
+"or were they still not on speaking terms?"  She did not know whether to
+tell her father of the quarrel or not, so she said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy had been busy trying to frame an excuse for sending Mona out.
+She knew she was longing to go.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona," she said, when at last they had finished discussing the letter and
+its contents, "would you like to go down to Mr. Henders' for some tea and
+sugar, and go on to Dr. Edwards for my medicine?  He said it would be
+ready whenever anyone could come for it."</p>
+
+<p>Mona beamed with pleasure.  "I'll go and put on my hat and boots now this
+minute," and within ten she was ready, and walking, basket in hand, and
+very self-conscious, down the hill to the shops.</p>
+
+<p>The church clock struck twelve as she reached the doctor's.  In a few
+minutes the children would all be pouring out of school, and wouldn't they
+stare when they saw her!  She felt almost shy at the thought of facing
+them, and gladly turned into Mr. Henders' out of their way.  She would
+dawdle about in there, she told herself, until most of them had gone by.</p>
+
+<p>She did dawdle about until Mrs. Henders asked her twice if there was
+anything more that she wanted, and, as she could not pretend that there
+was, she had to step out and face the world again.  Fortunately, though,
+only the older and sedater girls were to be seen.  Philippa Luxmore and
+Patty Row, each carrying her dinner bag, Winnie Maunders, and Kitty
+Johnson, and one or two Mona did not know to speak to.</p>
+
+<p>Philippa and Patty always brought their dinner with them, as the school
+was rather far from their homes.  Sometimes they had their meal in the
+schoolroom, but, if the weather was warm and dry, they liked best to eat
+it out of doors, down on the rocks, or in a field by the school.</p>
+
+<p>When they caught sight of Mona they rushed up to her eagerly.  "Oh, my!
+How nice you look, Mona.  What a pretty frock!  It's new, isn't it?
+Are you going to wear it every day or only on Sundays?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, every day." Mona spoke in a lofty tone.  "It's only one of my working
+frocks.  I've got two.  The other's a blue one.  Mother's made them for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Um! Your mother is good to you, Mona Carne!  I wish I'd got frocks like
+that for working in.  I'd be glad to have them for Sundays.  Where are you
+going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Home."
+
+"Oh, don't go home yet.  Patty and me are going down to eat our dinner on
+the rocks.  Come on down too.  You won't hurt your frock."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I can stay&mdash;I ought to go back.  I've got mother's medicine
+here.  It's getting on for dinner-time, too, and father's home to-day."
+Glancing up the road, she caught sight of Millie Higgins and another girl
+in the distance.  She particularly did not want to meet Millie just then.
+She made such rude remarks, and she always fingered things so.  Mona had
+not forgiven her either for leading her astray the day her mother went
+into Baymouth.</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated a moment and was lost.  She turned and walked away from her
+home.  Philippa slipped her arm through hers on one side, and Patty on the
+other, and almost before she knew where she was she was racing with them
+to the shore.</p>
+
+<p>The wind had risen somewhat, so it took them some minutes to find a nice
+sheltered spot in the sunshine and out of the wind, and they had to sit on
+the land side of the rocks, with their backs to the sea.  It was very
+pleasant, though, and, once settled, Mona told them all about her new hat,
+and they gave her a share of their dinner.</p>
+
+<p>After that they told her of the new summer frocks they were to have, and
+the conversation grew so interesting and absorbing, they forgot everything
+else until the church clock struck two!</p>
+
+<p>With a howl of dismay, they all sprang to their feet, and then they howled
+again, and even more loudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mona, look!  The tide's right in!  We'll have to get back through the
+fields, and, oh, shan't we be late!"  Patty and Philippa began to scramble
+back as fast as ever they could.  "Good-bye," they called over their
+shoulders.  "Oh, Mona, look out for your basket, it's floating."</p>
+
+<p>They could not have stayed to help her, but it did seem heartless of them
+to run away and leave her alone to manage as best she could.
+Mona looked about her helplessly, her heart sinking right down, down.
+The tide at that point had a way of creeping up gently, stealthily, and
+then, with one big swirl would rush right in and around the group of rocks
+on which she stood.  If the wind was high and the sea at all rough, as
+likely as not it would sweep right over the rocks and back again with such
+force that anyone or anything on them was swept away with it.  There was
+not wind enough to-day for that.  At least, Mona herself was safe, but her
+basket!&mdash;already that was swamped with water.  At the thought of the
+ruined tea and sugar her eyes filled.  Her mother's medicine was in the
+basket too.  She would save that!  At any rate, she would feel less guilty
+and ashamed if she could take that back to her.  She made a dash to seize
+the basket before the next wave caught it, slipped on the slimy rock, and
+fell face forward&mdash;and at the same moment she heard the crash of breaking
+glass.  The medicine was mingling with the waves, the basket was riding
+out on the crest of them!</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mona!  At that minute the hardest heart would have felt sorry for
+her.  Her dress was ruined, her hands were scraped and cut, her mother's
+tonic was gone!  The misery which filled her heart was more than she could
+bear.  "I can't go home!" she sobbed.  "I can't, I never can any more."
+Big sobs shook her, tears poured down her cheeks.  "I can't go home,
+I can't face them.  Oh, what shall I do!  What shall I do!"  She looked
+down over her wet, green-slimed frock, so pretty and fresh but an hour
+ago, and her sobs broke out again.  "I'll&mdash;I'll run away&mdash;they won't want
+me after this, but p'raps they'll be sorry for me when they miss me.
+Oh, I wish I'd never come, I wish I'd never met Phil and Patty&mdash;they'd no
+business to ask me to come with them&mdash;it was too bad of them.  I wish I'd
+gone straight home.  If it hadn't been for Millie Higgins I should have,
+and all this would have been saved.  Oh, what shall I do?"</p>
+
+<p>As there was no one but a few gulls to advise her, she received no
+comfort, and had, after all, to settle the question for herself.</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments all she did was to cry.  Then, "I'll go to granny," she
+decided.  "She'll be glad to have me, and she won't scold.  Yes, I'll go
+to granny.  Father and mother will be glad to be rid of me&mdash;I&mdash;I'm nothing
+but a trouble to them!"  But, all the same, she felt so sorry for herself
+she could scarcely see where she was going for the tears which blinded
+her.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mona's first thought was to avoid being seen by anyone who would recognise
+her; her second&mdash;that she must keep out of sight as much as possible until
+her dress was dry, and her face less disfigured, for anyone meeting her
+now would stop her to enquire if she had met with an accident.</p>
+
+<p>By keeping along the shore for some little distance it was possible to get
+out on to the high road to Milbrook, but it was not an easy path to
+travel.  It meant continued climbing over rocks, ploughing through loose,
+soft sand, or heavy wet sand, clinging to the face of a cliff and
+scrambling along it, or wading through deep water.</p>
+
+<p>What her new pink frock would be like by the time she reached the road
+Mona did not care to contemplate.  "It will be ruined for ever&mdash;
+the first time of wearing, too," and a sob caught in her throat as she
+remembered how her mother had toiled to get the material, and then to make
+the dress.  Now that she was losing her she realised how much she had
+grown to love her mother in the short time she had lived with her, and how
+good and kind Lucy had been.  It never occurred to her that she was
+doubling her mother's trouble by running away in this cowardly fashion.
+Indeed, she would have been immensely surprised if anyone had hinted at
+such a thing.  She was convinced that she was doing something very heroic
+and self-denying; and the more she hurt herself clambering over the rough
+roads, the more heroic and brave she thought herself.  And when, at last,
+she stepped out on the high road, and realised that she had seven miles to
+walk to her grandmother's house, she thought herself bravest of all,
+a perfect heroine, in fact.</p>
+
+<p>Already she was feeling hungry, for breakfast had been early, and Patty
+and Philippa had only been able to spare her a slice of bread and butter
+and a biscuit.</p>
+
+<p>On she trudged, and on, and on.  A distant clock struck three, and just at
+the same moment she passed a sign-post with 'Milbrook, 6 miles,' painted
+on one arm of it, and 'Seacombe, 1 mile,' on another.</p>
+
+<p>"Then she had six long tiresome miles to walk before she could get a
+meal!" she thought.  "If she did not get on faster than she was doing,
+it would be dark night before she reached Hillside Cottage, and granny
+would be gone to bed.  She always went to bed as soon as daylight began to
+go.  How frightened she would be at being called up to let Mona in!"</p>
+
+<p>The thought quickened her steps a little, and she covered the next mile in
+good time.  She ran down the hills, and trotted briskly along the level.
+She got on faster in that way, but she very soon felt too tired to
+continue.  Her legs ached so badly she had no heart left for running.
+Now and again she leaned back against the hedge for a little rest, and oh,
+how she did wish that it was the blackberry season!  She was starving, or
+felt as though she was.</p>
+
+<p>By and by, when she had quite despaired of ever reaching granny's that
+night, she caught sight of a cart lumbering along in the distance, and a
+man sitting up in it driving.  It was the first sight of a human being
+that she had seen since she started, and she welcomed it gladly.
+"Perhaps it's going my way, and will give me a lift."
+
+The thought so cheered her that she went back a little way to meet the
+cart.  When she drew nearer she saw that it was a market cart, and that
+the driver was a kindly-looking elderly man.  Every now and again he
+talked encouragingly to his horse to quicken its pace.  Between whiles he
+sang snatches of a hymn in a loud, rolling bass.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as he saw that Mona was waiting to speak to him, he stopped his
+singing and drew up the horse.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, missie," he said civilly.  "Are you wanting a lift?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please&mdash;I wondered if you would&mdash;I am so tired I can hardly walk."</p>
+
+<p>"Um!  Where were you thinking of going?"</p>
+
+<p>"To Hillside&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Um!  You've got a brave step to go yet.  We're a good three miles from
+Hillside.  Have 'ee come far?"</p>
+
+<p>"From Seacombe," Mona admitted reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>"My word!  It's a brave long walk for a young thing like you to take
+alone.  Why, you wouldn't reach Hillside till after dark&mdash;not at the rate
+you could go.  You look tired out already."</p>
+
+<p>"I am," sighed Mona, pathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, jump up quick, or my old nag'll fall asleep, and I'll have the
+works of the world to wake un up again."</p>
+
+<p>Mona laughed.  "Thank you," she said, eyes and voice full of gratitude as
+she clambered up the wheel, and perched herself on the high, hard seat
+beside her new friend.  "I'm very much obliged to you, sir.  I don't
+believe I'd ever have got there, walking all the way.  I didn't know seven
+miles was so far."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe you would.  A mile seems like two when you ain't in good
+trim for it, and the more miles you walk, the longer they seem.
+Gee up, you old rogue you!"  This to the horse, who, after much coaxing,
+had consented to move on again.</p>
+
+<p>"I never felt so tired in all my life before," sighed Mona, in a voice so
+faint and weary that her companion looked at her sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Had any dinner?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Mona shook her head.  "No, I&mdash;I missed my dinner.  I&mdash;I came away in a
+hurry."</p>
+
+<p>"That's always a bad plan."  He stooped down and pulled a straw bag
+towards him.  "I couldn't eat all mine.  My wife was too generous to me.
+P'raps you could help me out with it.  I don't like to take any home&mdash;it
+kind of hurts my wife's feelings if I do.  She thinks I'm ill, too.
+Can you finish up what's left?"</p>
+
+<p>He unrolled a clean white cloth and laid it and its contents on Mona's
+lap.</p>
+
+<p>"Could she!"  Mona's eyes answered for her.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like bread and ham?  It may be a trifle thick&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" gasped Mona, "I think bread and ham, <i>thick</i> bread and ham is nicer
+than anything else in the world!"</p>
+
+<p>"Um! Peg away, then.  And there's an orange, in case you're thirsty."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you are kind!" cried Mona, gratefully.  "And oh, I am so glad I met
+you, I don't believe I'd have got much further, I was feeling so faint."</p>
+
+<p>"That was from want of food.  Here, before you begin, hadn't you better
+put something about your shoulders.  It's getting fresh now the sun's gone
+down, and when we get to the top of that hill we shall feel it.  Have you
+got a coat, or a shawl, or something?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't.  I&mdash;I came away in a hurry&mdash;but I shall be all right.
+I don't mind the cold."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think you were in too much of a hurry&mdash;to have forget your
+shawl, and your dinner, too.  Wasn't there anybody to look after you,
+and see you started out properly?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't an orphan, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, I've got a father and a stepmother&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh-h!" meaningly.  "Is that the trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona fired up at once in defence of Lucy.  "No, it isn't.  She's just the
+same as my own mother.  She's so kind to me&mdash;if she hadn't been so kind
+I&mdash;I wouldn't have minded so much.  She sat up last night to&mdash;to finish
+making my frock for me."  Her words caught in her throat, and she could
+say no more.</p>
+
+<p>Her companion eyed first her disfigured face, and then her bedraggled
+frock.  "It seems to have seen trouble since last night, don't it?" he
+remarked drily, and then the words and the sobs in Mona's throat poured
+out together.</p>
+
+<p>"That's why&mdash;I&mdash;I'm here.  I can't go home and show her what I've done.
+It was so pretty only this morning&mdash;and now&mdash;&mdash;"  Then bit by bit
+Mona poured forth her tale of woe into the ears of the kindly stranger,
+and Mr. Dodds sat and listened patiently, thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"And what about your poor father and mother and their feelings," he asked
+when Mona had done.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;oh&mdash;they'll be glad to be rid of me.  They'll be better without me,"
+said Mona, with the air and voice of a martyr.</p>
+
+<p>"Um!  If you're certain sure of that, all well and good, but wouldn't it
+have been better to have went back and asked them?  It does seem a bit
+hard that they should be made to suffer more 'cause they've suffered so
+much already.  They won't know but what you've been carried out to sea
+'long with your poor mother's tonic."</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not reply.  In her inmost heart she knew that he was right,
+but she hadn't the courage to face the truth.  It was easier, too, to go
+on than to go back, and granny would be glad to see her.  She would be
+sorry for her, and would make much of her.  Granny always thought that all
+she did was right.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of her feelings, though, Mona finished her meal, and felt much
+better for it, but she presently grew so sleepy she could not talk and
+could scarcely keep on her seat.  Mr. Dodds noticed the curly head sink
+down lower and lower, then start up again with a jerk, then droop again.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here&mdash;what's your name, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mona&mdash;Carne," said Mona, sleepily, quite oblivious of the fact that she
+had given away her identity.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mona, what I was going to say was, you'll be tumbling off your seat
+and find yourself under the wheel before you know where you are; so I'd
+advise you to get behind there, and curl down into the straw.  Then, if
+you draw my top-coat over you, you'll be safe and warm both."</p>
+
+<p>Mona needed no second bidding.  She almost tumbled into the clean,
+sweet-smelling straw.  "Thank you," she was going to say, as she drew the
+coat up over her, but she only got as far as 'thank,' and it seemed to her
+that before she could say 'you,' she was roused again by the cart drawing
+up, and there she was at her grandmother's gate, with granny standing on
+the doorstep peering out into the dimness.  She thought she had closed her
+eyes for only a minute, and in that minute they had travelled three miles.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, Mr. Dodds?"  Granny called out sharply.  "Whatever made 'ee
+come at this time of night?  'Tis time your poor 'orse was 'ome in his
+stable, and you in your own house!"</p>
+
+<p>"I've come on purpose to bring you something very valuable, Mrs. Barnes.
+I've got a nice surprise for 'ee here in my cart.  Now then, little maid,
+you've come to the end of your journey&mdash;and I've got a brave way to go."</p>
+
+<p>Mona was still so sleepy that she had to be almost lifted out of the cart.</p>
+
+<p>"What! Why! Mona!"  Then, as Mona stumbled up the path she almost fell
+into her grandmother's arms.  "What's the meaning of it?  What are they
+thinking about to send 'ee back at this time of night!  In another few
+minutes I'd have been gone to bed.  I don't call it considerate at all."</p>
+
+<p>"They don't know," stammered Mona.  "I wasn't sent, I came.  Oh, granny,
+don't ask about it now&mdash;let me get indoors and sit down.  I'm so tired I
+can't stand.  I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."</p>
+
+<p>But tired though she was, she turned back and thanked her rescuer.
+"I'd have been sleeping under a hedge to-night, if it hadn't been for
+you," she said gratefully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what I did isn't anything," he said amiably.  "'Tisn't worth speaking
+about.  I don't doubt but what you'd do as much for me, if I wanted it.
+Good night, Mrs. Barnes.  Take care of yourself, ma'am, it's a bit fresh
+to-night.  Good night, little maid.  Gee-up, Nettle, my son."</p>
+
+<p>What he had done was a mere nothing, as he said.  But what he did do
+before the night was over was a very big something.  Between two and three
+hours later he was in Seacombe, and knocking at Peter Carne's door.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew you'd be anxious, so I thought I'd just step along and let 'ee
+know that your little maid's all right," he said quietly, making no
+mention of the seven long miles he had tramped after he had fed and
+stabled his horse for the night.</p>
+
+<p>"Anxious!"  Lucy lay half fainting in her chair.  Peter's face was white
+and drawn with the anguish of the last few hours.  Neither of them could
+doubt any longer that Mona had been swept off the rock and out to sea.
+Nothing else could have kept her, they thought.  Patty and Philippa had
+told where they had last seen her, but it was four o'clock before they had
+come out of school and heard that she was missing.  So the crowds
+clustering about the shore had never any hope of finding her alive.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Carne almost fainted, too, with the relief the stranger's words
+brought him.  The best he had dared to hope for when the knock came was
+the news that Mona's body had been washed in.  The revulsion of feeling
+from despair to joy sent him reeling helpless into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>Humphrey Dodds put out his arms and supported him gently.  "I didn't know,
+I ought to have thought, and told 'ee more careful like."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is she?" gasped Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"Safe with her grandmother&mdash;and there I'd let her bide for a bit, if I was
+you," he added, with a twinkle in his eye.  "It'll do her good."</p>
+
+<p>They tried to thank him, but words failed them both.  They pressed him to
+stay the night, he must be so tired, and it was so late, but he refused.
+A walk was nothing to him, and he had to be at work by five the next
+morning.  "But I wouldn't say 'no' to a bit of supper," he said, knowing
+quite well that they would all be better for some food.</p>
+
+<p>Then, while Lucy got the meal ready, Peter went down to tell his good
+news, and send the weary searchers to their homes.</p>
+
+<p>Over their supper Mr. Dodds told them of Mona's pitiful little confession.
+"It doesn't seem hardly fair to tell again what she told me, but I thought
+it might help you to understand how she came to be so foolish.  It don't
+seem so bad when you know how it all came about."</p>
+
+<p>When he had had his supper and a pipe, he started on his homeward way,
+with but the faintest chance of meeting anyone at that hour who could give
+him a lift over some of the long miles.</p>
+
+<p>Little dreaming of the trouble she was causing, Mona, clad in one of her
+grandmother's huge, plain night-gowns, and rolled up in blankets, slept on
+the old sofa in the kitchen, as dreamlessly and placidly as though she
+hadn't a care on her mind.</p>
+
+<p>Overhead, Grannie Barnes moaned and groaned, and tossed and heaved on her
+bed, but Mona slept on unconcerned and happy.  Even the creaking of the
+stairs when granny came down in the morning did not rouse her.  The first
+thing that she was conscious of was a hand shaking her by the shoulders,
+and a voice saying rather sharply, "Come, wake up.  Don't you know that
+it's eight o'clock, and no fire lit, nor nothing!  I thought I might have
+lain on a bit this morning, and you'd have brought me a cup of tea,
+knowing how bad I've been, and very far from well yet.  You said you did
+it for your stepmother.  It's a good thing I didn't wait any longer!"</p>
+
+<p>Mona sat up and stretched, and rubbed her eyes.  "Could this be granny
+talking?  Granny, who had never expected anything of her!"</p>
+
+<p>No one feels in the best of tempers when roused out of a beautiful sleep,
+and to be greeted by a scolding when least of all expecting it, does not
+make one feel more amiable.</p>
+
+<p>"I was fast asleep," she mumbled, yawning.  "I couldn't know the time if I
+was asleep.  You should have called me."  She dropped back on her pillow
+wearily.  "Oh, I'm so tired and I am aching all over.  I don't believe
+I'll ever wake up any more, granny.  Why&mdash;why must I get up?"</p>
+
+<p>"To do some work for once.  I thought you might want some breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>This was so unlike the indulgent granny she had known before she went
+away, that Mona could not help opening her eyes wide in surprise.
+Then she sat up, and, as granny did not relent, she put her feet over the
+edge of the sofa and began to think about dressing.</p>
+
+<p>"What frock can I put on, granny?"  It suddenly struck her that it would
+not be very pleasant to be living in one place while all her belongings
+were in another.</p>
+
+<p>"The one you took off, I s'pose."</p>
+
+<p>"But I can't.  It isn't fit to wear till it has been washed and ironed.
+It wants mending, too.  I tore it dreadfully."</p>
+
+<p>"Um!  And who do you think is going to do all that?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona stared again at her granny with perplexed and anxious eyes.
+There used to be no question as to who would do all those things for her.
+"I don't know," she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can't.  I haven't hardly got the strength to stand and wash my
+own few things, and I'm much too bad to be starching and ironing frocks
+every few days.  Better your stepmother had got you a good stuff one than
+such a thing as that.  If she had, it wouldn't have been spoilt by your
+falling on the seaweed.  Nonsense, I call it!"  Granny drew back the
+curtains sharply, as though to give vent to her feelings.  The perplexity
+in Mona's mind increased.  She was troubled, too, by the marked change in
+her grandmother.  In the bright morning light which now poured in, she
+noticed for the first time a great difference in her appearance as well as
+in her manner.  She was much thinner than she used to be, and very pale.
+Her face had a drawn look, and her eyes seemed sunken.  She seemed,
+somehow, to have shrunken in every way.  Her expression used to be smiling
+and kindly.  It was now peevish and irritable.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time Mona realised that her grandmother had been very ill,
+and not merely complaining.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll light the fire, granny, in a minute&mdash;I mean, I would if I knew what
+to put on."</p>
+
+<p>"There's one of your very old frocks upstairs, hanging behind the door in
+your own room.  It's shabby, and it's small for you, I expect, but you'll
+have to make it do, if you haven't got any other."</p>
+
+<p>"It'll do for the time, till my pink one is fit to wear again."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but who's going to make it fit?  That's what I'd like to know.
+Can you do it yourself?  I s'pose you'd have to if you was with your
+stepmother."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I can't do it.  Do you think Mrs. Lane would?  I'd do something for
+her&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Her grandmother turned to her with a look so full of anger that Mona's
+words died on her lips.  For the moment she had forgotten all about the
+quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Lane!  Mrs. Lane!  After the things she said about you&mdash;you'd ask
+her to do you a favour?  Well, Mona Carne, I'm ashamed of you!  Don't you
+know that I've never spoken to her nor her husband since that day she said
+you'd pulled down the faggots that threw me down, and then had left her
+cats to bear the blame of it.  I've never got over that fall, and I've
+never got over her saying that of you, and, ill though I've been,
+I've never demeaned myself by asking her to come in to see me.
+I don't know what you can be thinking of.  I'm thankful I've got more
+self-respect."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's face was crimson, and her eyes were full of shame.  Oh, how
+bitterly she repented now that she had not had the courage to speak out
+that day and say honestly, "Granny, Mrs. Lane was right, I did pull over
+the faggots and forgot them.  It was my fault that you tripped and fell&mdash;
+but I never meant that the blame should fall on anyone else."</p>
+
+<p>She longed to say it now, but her tongue failed her.  What had been such a
+little thing to start with had now grown quite serious.</p>
+
+<p>When her father had wanted her to come home, he had consoled himself for
+taking her from granny by the thought that she had neighbours and friends
+about her for company, but now it seemed that she would rather die alone
+than ask their help, or even let them know that she was ill.</p>
+
+<p>Mona turned despondently away, and slowly mounted the stairs.  "If you do
+ever so little a thing wrong, it grows and grows until it's a big thing!
+Here's granny all alone, 'cause of me, and mother all alone, 'cause of me,
+and worrying herself finely by now, I expect, and&mdash;and I shouldn't wonder
+if it makes her ill again," Mona's eyes filled at the thought, "and&mdash;and I
+never meant to be a bad girl.  I&mdash;I seem to be one before I know it&mdash;it is
+hard lines."</p>
+
+<p>She unhung her old frock from behind the door, and in the chest of drawers
+she found an old apron, "I shall begin to wonder soon if I've ever been
+away," she thought to herself, as she looked at herself in the tiny
+mirror.</p>
+
+<p>"Puss, puss, puss," called a voice.  "Come along, dears.  Your breakfast
+is ready."</p>
+
+<p>Mona stepped to the window and peeped out.  Mrs. Lane was standing with a
+saucer of bread and milk in each hand.  At the sound of her voice her two
+cats came racing up the garden, chattering as they went, and she gave them
+their meal out there in the sunshine.  As she turned to go back to the
+house she glanced up at Granny Barnes', and at the window where Mona
+stood.  Perhaps she had been attracted by the feeling that someone was
+looking at her, or she may have heard something of Mona's arrival the
+night before.</p>
+
+<p>For a second a look of surprise crossed her face, and a half-smile&mdash;then
+as quickly as it came it vanished, and a look of cold disapproval took its
+place.</p>
+
+<p>Mona felt snubbed and hurt.  It was dreadful to have sunk so low in
+anyone's opinion.  It was worse when it was in Mrs. Lane's, for they used
+to be such good friends, and Mrs. Lane was always so kind to her, and so
+patient, and, oh, how Mona had loved to go into her house to play with her
+kittens, or to listen to her stories, and look at the wonderful things
+Captain Lane had brought home with him from some of his voyages.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Lane, who had been a sailor in the Merchant Service, had been to
+all parts of the world, and had brought home something from most.</p>
+
+<p>Mona coloured hotly with the pain of the snub, and the reproof it
+conveyed.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't bear it," she thought.  "I can't bear it&mdash;I'll have to tell."</p>
+
+<p>She went down to the kitchen in a very troubled state of mind.
+Life seemed very sad and difficult just now.</p>
+
+<p>Granny was sitting by the fire, a few sticks in her hand.  "It's taken me
+all this time to get these," she said pathetically, "and now I can't stoop
+any more.  What time we shall get any breakfast I don't know, I'm sure,
+and I'm sinking for the want of something."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll get you a cup of tea soon.  I won't be any time."  It cheered her a
+little to have something to do, and she clutched at anything that helped
+her not to think.  She lighted the fire, swept the hearth up, and laid the
+cloth.  Then she went out to sweep the doorstep.  It was lovely outside in
+the sweet sunshine.  Mona felt she could have been so happy if only&mdash;&mdash;
+While she was lingering over her task, Mrs. Lane came out to sweep her
+step and the tiled path, but this time she kept her head steadily turned
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go right in and tell granny now this minute," thought Mona, her lip
+quivering with pain.  "Then, perhaps, we'll all be friends again.
+I can't bear to live here like this."</p>
+
+<p>But when she turned into the kitchen the kettle was boiling, and her
+grandmother was measuring the tea into the pot.  "Get the loaf and the
+butter, child, I feel I can eat a bit of bread and butter this morning."</p>
+
+<p>Mona got them, and the milk, and some more coal to make up the fire, and
+all the time she was saying over and over to herself different beginnings
+of her confession.  She was so deeply absorbed in her thoughts that she
+did not notice the large slice of bread and butter that her grandmother
+had put on her plate.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you want it?" Granny asked sharply.  "Why, how red you are, child!
+What have you been doing to make your colour like that.  You haven't
+broken anything, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>Her tone and her sharpness jarred on Mona cruelly, and put all her new
+resolutions to flight.  "No, I haven't," she said, sullenly.
+"There wasn't anything to break but the broom, and you saw me put that
+right away."</p>
+
+<p>Granny looked at her for a moment in silence.  "Your manners haven't
+improved since you went home," she said severely.  "If I'd spoken to my
+grandmother like that, I'd have been sent to bed."</p>
+
+<p>A new difficulty opened before Mona's troubled mind.  If she was rude, or
+idle, or disagreeable, the blame for it would fall upon Lucy, and that
+would be an injustice she could not bear.  Now that she had lost her she
+realised how good Lucy had been to her, and how much she loved her.
+For her sake, she would do all she could to control her temper and her
+tongue.</p>
+
+<p>She had coloured again&mdash;with indignation this time&mdash;hot words had sprung
+to her lips in defence of Lucy, but she closed them determinedly, and
+choked the words back again.  She felt that she could say nothing; she
+felt, too, that Lucy would not wish her to say anything.  She could not
+explain so as to make her granny understand that it was not Lucy's fault
+that she was rude and ill-tempered.  It was by acts, not words, that she
+could serve Lucy best.  And for her sake she <i>would</i> try.  She would try
+her very hardest to control her temper and her tongue.  The determination
+brought some comfort to her poor troubled heart.  At any rate, she would
+be doing something that Lucy would be glad about.</p>
+
+<p>Her confession, though, remained unspoken.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mona did try to be good, she tried hard, but she was very, very unhappy.
+She missed her home, she missed Lucy, and her father, and her freedom.
+She longed, too, with an intolerable longing, for the sight and the sound
+of the sea.  She had never, till now that she had lost them, realised how
+dearly she loved the quaint little steep and rambling village, with the
+sea at its foot, and the hills behind it.  She was always homesick.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps if she had been sent to Hillside, and it had been her plain duty
+to live there, and nowhere else, she might have felt more happy and
+settled.  Or, if granny had been the same indulgent, sympathetic granny as
+of old, but she had placed herself where she was by her own foolish,
+unkind act, which she now bitterly repented; and she was there with a
+cloud resting on her character and motives.  She had shown herself
+ungrateful and unkind; she had played a coward's part, and had bitterly
+pained her father and Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>They did not reproach her&mdash;she would have felt better had they done so&mdash;
+but she knew.  And, after all, granny did not want her, or so it seemed!</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not realise that her grandmother was really seriously unwell,
+and that her irritability she could not help.  Mrs. Barnes did not know it
+herself.  Mona only realised that she was almost always cross,
+that nothing pleased her, that she never ran and fetched and carried,
+as she used to do, while Mona sat by the fire and read.  It was granny who
+sat by the fire now.  She did not read, though.  She said her eyes pained
+her, and her head ached too much.  She did not sew, either.  She just sat
+idly by the fire and moped and dozed, or roused herself to grumble at
+something or other.</p>
+
+<p>The day after she came to Hillside, Mona had written to her mother.
+She told her where she was, and why, and tried to say that she was sorry,
+but no reply had come, and this troubled her greatly.</p>
+
+<p>"Were they too angry with her to have anything more to say to her?
+Was Lucy ill?"</p>
+
+<p>Every day she went to meet the postman, her heart throbbing with eager
+anxiety, and day after day she went back disappointed.  If it had not been
+for very shame, she would have run away again and gone home, and have
+asked to be forgiven, but she could not make up her mind to do that.
+Probably they would not want her at home again, after all the trouble and
+expense she had been to them.  Perhaps her father might even send her back
+to Hillside again.  The shame of that would be unbearable!</p>
+
+<p>She was uncomfortable, too, as well as unhappy.  She wanted her clothes,
+her brush and comb, her books, and all her other belongings.  She had,
+after a fashion, settled into her old room again, but it seemed bare and
+unhomelike after her pretty one at Cliff Cottage.</p>
+
+<p>Then one day, after long waiting and longing, and hope and disappointment,
+her father came.  For a moment her heart had leaped with the glad wild
+hope that he had come to take her back with him.  Then the sight of the
+box and parcel he carried had dashed it down again.  He had brought her
+all her possessions.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mona," he said quietly, as she stood facing him, shy and
+embarrassed.  "So you prefer Hillside to Seacombe!  Well, it's always best
+to be where you're happiest, if you feel free to make your choice.
+For my own part, I couldn't live away from the sea, but tastes differ."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;mine&mdash;don't differ," stammered Mona.  "I am not happier."  She was
+so overcome she could hardly speak above a whisper, and her father had
+already turned to Mrs. Barnes.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, mother," he cried, and poor Mona could not help noticing how much
+more kindly his voice sounded when he spoke to granny.  "How are you?
+You don't look first rate.  Don't 'ee feel up to the mark?"  He spoke
+lightly, but his eyes, as they studied the old woman's face, were full of
+surprise and concern.  Granny shook her head.  "No, I ain't well,"
+she said, dully.  "I'm very, very far from well.  I don't know what's the
+matter.  P'raps 'tis the weather."</p>
+
+<p>"The weather's grand.  It's bootiful enough to set everybody dancing,"
+said her son-in-law cheerfully, but still eyeing her with that same look
+of concern.</p>
+
+<p>"P'raps 'tis old age, then.  I'm getting on, of course.  It's only what I
+ought to expect; but I seem to feel old all of a sudden; everything's a
+burden to me.  I can't do my work as I used, and I can't walk, and I can't
+get used to doing nothing I'm ashamed for you to see the place as it is,
+Peter if I'd known you was coming I'd have made an effort&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just why I didn't tell 'ee, mother.  I came unexpected on purpose,
+'cause I didn't want 'ee to be scrubbing the place from the chimney pots
+down to the rain-water barrel.  I know what you are, you see."</p>
+
+<p>Poor old Granny Barnes smiled, but Mona felt hurt.  She did her best to
+keep the house clean and tidy, and she thought it was looking as nice as
+nice could be.  "What I was, you mean," said granny.  "I don't seem to
+have the strength to scrub anything now-a-days."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, there's no need for 'ee to.  You've got Mona to do that kind of
+thing for 'ee."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's heart sank even lower.  "Then he really had no thought of having
+her home again!"</p>
+
+<p>"I've brought your clothes, Mona," he said, turning again to her.
+"Lucy was troubled that they hadn't been sent before.  She thought you
+must be wanting them."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Mona, dully, and could think of nothing more to say,
+though she knew her father waited for an answer.</p>
+
+<p>"I've brought 'ee some fish, mother," picking up the basket.  "It come in
+last night.  I thought you might fancy a bit, and Lucy sent a bit of
+bacon, her own curing, and a jelly, or something of that sort."
+Granny's face brightened.  Though she had not approved of Mona's being
+given a stepmother, she appreciated Lucy's kindness, and when they
+presently sat down to dinner and she had some of the jelly, she
+appreciated it still more.  Her appetite had needed coaxing, but there had
+been nothing to coax it with.  "It tempts anyone to eat," she remarked,
+graciously.  "When one is out of sorts, one fancies something out of the
+common."</p>
+
+<p>"Lucy'll be rare and pleased to think you could take a bit," said Peter,
+delighted for Lucy's sake.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, thank you.  She's made it very nice.  A trifle sour, perhaps, but I
+like things rather sharpish."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother," said Peter suddenly, "I wish you'd come to Seacombe to live.
+It'd be nice to have you near."  His eyes had been constantly wandering to
+his mother-in-law's face, and always with the same anxious look.
+The change in her since last he had seen her troubled him greatly.
+Her round cheeks had fallen in, her old rosiness had given place to a grey
+pallor.  She stooped very much and looked shrunken too.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, granny, do!" cried Mona, eagerly.  It was almost the first time she
+had spoken, but the mere suggestion filled her with overwhelming joy and
+relief.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I could look in pretty often to see how you was, and bring you in a
+bit of fresh fish as often as you would care to have it.  Lucy would take
+a delight, too, in making 'ee that sort of thing," nodding towards the
+jelly, "or anything else you fancied.  We'd be at hand, too, to help 'ee
+if you wasn't very well."</p>
+
+<p>Granny Barnes was touched, and when she looked up there were tears in her
+eyes.  The prospect was tempting.  She had felt very forlorn and old, and
+helpless lately.  She had often felt too that she would like:</p>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+<p class = "noindent">    "A little petting<br>
+<span class = "ind3">        At life's setting."</span><br></p>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<p>"It's good of you to think of it, Peter," she said, hesitatingly.
+Then, fearing that he might have spoken on the impulse of the moment,
+and that she was showing herself too anxious for his help and Lucy's,
+she drew herself up.  "But&mdash;well, this is <i>home</i>, and I don't fancy I
+could settle down in a strange place, and amongst strangers, at my time of
+life."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd be with those that are all you've got belonging to you in this
+world," said Peter.  But granny's mood had changed.  She would not listen
+to any more coaxing, and her son-in-law, seeming to understand her,
+changed the subject.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mona, who did not understand so well, felt only vexed and impatient
+with the poor perverse old woman, for not falling in at once with a plan
+so delightful to herself.  Mona learned to understand as time went on,
+but she was too young yet.</p>
+
+<p>"But, granny, it would be ever so much nicer than this dull old place,
+and&mdash;and you'd have mother as well as me to look after you.  I like
+Seacombe ever so much better than Hillside.  Why won't you go, granny?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Carne groaned.  Mona, by her tactlessness, was setting her
+grandmother dead against such a plan, and undoing all the good he had
+done.  Granny Barnes would never be driven into taking a step, but she
+would see things in her own time and in her own way, if she felt that no
+one was trying to force her.  He held up his hand for silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Your grandmother knows best what'll suit her.  It isn't what you like,
+it's what's best for her that we've all got to think about."</p>
+
+<p>But granny's anger had been roused.  "It may be a dull old place, but it's
+home," she said sharply.  "You can't understand what that means.
+You don't seem to have any particular feeling or you wouldn't be so ready
+to leave first one and then the other, without even a heartache.  I wonder
+sometimes, Mona, if you've got any heart.  Perhaps it's best that you
+shouldn't have; you're saved a lot of pain."  Granny began to whimper a
+little, to her son-in-law's great distress.  "Anyway, you were ready
+enough to run to the 'dull old place' when you were in trouble," she added, reproachfully, and Mona had no answer.</p>
+
+<p>She got up from the table, and, collecting the dishes together, carried
+them to the scullery.  "Oh, dear!" she sighed, irritably, "I seem to be
+always hurting somebody&mdash;and somebody's always hurting me.  I'd better go
+about with my mouth fastened up&mdash;even then I s'pose I'd be always doing
+something wrong.  People are easily offended, it's something dreadful."</p>
+
+<p>She felt very much aggrieved.  So much aggrieved that she gave only sullen
+words and looks, and never once enquired for Lucy, or sent her a message,
+or even hinted at being sorry for what she had done.</p>
+
+<p>"She didn't send any message to me," she muttered to herself, excusingly.
+"She never sent her love, or&mdash;or anything, so why should I send a message
+to her?"  She worked herself up into such a fine state of righteous anger
+that she almost persuaded herself that her behaviour had been all that it
+should be, and that she was the most misunderstood and ill-treated person
+in the whole wide world.</p>
+
+<p>In spite, though, of her being so perfect, she felt miserably unhappy,
+as she lay awake in the darkness, and thought over the day's happenings.
+She saw again her father's look of distress as she snapped at her
+grandmother, and answered him so sulkily.  She pictured him, too, walking
+away down the road towards home, without even a smile from her, and only a
+curt, sullen, good-bye!  Oh, how she wished now that she had run after him
+and kissed him, and begged him to forgive her.</p>
+
+<p>A big sob broke from her as she pictured him tramping those long lonely
+miles, his kind face so grave and pained, his heart so full of
+disappointment in her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh how hateful he will think me&mdash;and I am, I am, and I can't tell him I
+don't really mean to be," and then her tears burst forth, and she cried,
+and cried until all the bitterness and selfishness were washed from her
+heart, and only gentler feelings were left.</p>
+
+<p>As she lay tired out, thinking over the past, and the future, a curious,
+long cry broke the stillness of the night.</p>
+
+<p>"The owl," she said to herself.  "I do wish he'd go away from here.
+He always frightens me with his miserable noise."  She snuggled more
+closely into her pillow, and drew the bedclothes up over her ear.
+"I'll try to go to sleep, then I shan't hear him."</p>
+
+<p>But, in spite of her efforts, the cry reached her again and again.
+"It can't be the owl," she said at last, sitting up in bed, the better to
+listen.  "It sounds more like a person!  Who can it be?"</p>
+
+<p>Again the cry came, "Mo&mdash;na!  Mo&mdash;o&mdash;na!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's somebody calling me.  It must be granny!  Oh, dear!
+Whatever can be the matter, to make her call like that."</p>
+
+<p>Shaking all over with fear, she scrambled out of bed, and groped her way
+to the door.  As she opened it the cry reached her again.</p>
+
+<p>"Mo&mdash;na!"  This time there could be no doubt about it.  It came from her
+grandmother's room.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm coming!" she called loudly.  "All right, granny, I'm coming."
+She ran across the landing, guided by the lights shining through the
+chinks in her grandmother's door.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?&mdash;are you feeling bad, granny?  Do you want something?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm feeling very bad.  I'm ill, I'm very ill&mdash;oh, dear, oh dear,
+what shall I do?  Oh, I've no one to come and do anything for me.
+Oh, dear, oh what can I do?"  Granny's groans were dreadful.  Mona felt
+frightened and helpless.  She had not the least idea what to do or say.
+What did grown-ups do at times like this? she wondered.  She did not know
+where, or how, her grandmother suffered, and if she had she would not have
+known how to act.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want me to fetch the doctor?  I'll go and put on my clothes.
+I won't be more than a minute or two, then I'll come back again&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no, I can't be left alone all the time, I might die&mdash;here, alone;
+oh dear, oh dear, what a plight to be left in!  Not a living creature to
+come to me&mdash;but a child!  Oh, how bad I do feel!"</p>
+
+<p>"But I must do something, or call somebody," cried Mona desperately.
+She had never seen serious illness before, and she was frightened.
+Poor old Mrs. Barnes had always been a bad patient, and difficult to
+manage, even when her ailments were only trifling; now that she really
+felt ill, she had lost all control.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny," said Mona, growing desperate.  "I must get someone to come and
+help us, you must have the doctor, and I can't leave you alone, I am going
+to ask Mrs. Lane to come, I can't help it&mdash;I can't do anything else.
+I'll slip on my shoes and stockings, I won't be more than a minute."</p>
+
+<p>Granny Barnes stopped moaning, and raised herself on her elbow.
+"You'll do no such thing," she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"But granny, I must&mdash;you must have help, and you must have somebody to go
+for the doctor, and&mdash;and, oh, granny, I'm afraid to be here alone,
+I don't know what to do, and you're looking so bad."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I?" nervously.  "Well&mdash;if I've got to die alone and helpless, I will,
+but I won't ask Mrs. Lane to come to me.  Do you think I'd&mdash;ask a favour
+of her, after all her unneighbourliness&mdash;not speaking to me for weeks and
+weeks&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mona burst into tears, confession had to come.  "Granny," she said,
+dropping on her knees beside the bed.  "I&mdash;I've got to tell you
+something&mdash;Mrs. Lane was right&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What!" Granny's face grew whiter, but she said no more.  If she had done
+so, if she had but spoken kindly and helped her ever so little, it would
+have made things much easier for poor Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;it was me that pulled the faggots down that night, and not Mrs.
+Lane's cats, and she won't look, or speak to me because I didn't tell,
+and I let her cats bear the blame.  I&mdash;I didn't mean to do any harm, I was
+in such a hurry to light up the fire, and the old things all rolled down,
+and I forgot to go out and pick them up again.  I didn't think you'd be
+going out there that night, but you went out, and&mdash;and fell over them.
+If you hadn't gone out it would have been all right, I'd have seen them in
+the morning and have picked them up."</p>
+
+<p>But Granny Barnes was not prepared to listen to excuses, she was very,
+very angry.  "And fine and foolish you've made me look all this time,
+Mona Carne, and risked my life too.  For bad as I was a little while back,
+I wouldn't bring myself to ask Mrs. Lane to come to me, nor Cap'en Lane to
+go and fetch the doctor, and&mdash;and if I'd died, well, you know who would
+have been to blame!"</p>
+
+<p>Granny's cheeks were crimson now, and she was panting with exhaustion.
+"Now what you've got to do is&mdash;to go in&mdash;and tell her the truth yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going," said Mona, the tears streaming down her face.  But as she
+hurried to the door, the sight of her, looking so childlike and forlorn in
+her nightgown, with her tumbled hair and tear-stained face, touched her
+grandmother's heart, and softened her anger.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona," she cried, "come back&mdash;never mind about it now, child&mdash;&mdash;"
+But Mona was already in her own room tugging on her shoes and stockings.
+Granny heard her come out and make her way stumbling down the stairs;
+she tried to call again, but reaction had set in, and she lay panting,
+exhausted, unable to do anything but listen.  She heard Mona pulling back
+the heavy wooden bolt of the front door, then she heard her footsteps
+hurrying through the garden, growing more distant, then nearer as she went
+up Mrs. Lane's path.  Then came the noise of her knocking at Mrs. Lane's
+door, first gently, then louder, and louder still&mdash;and then the exhausted,
+over-excited old woman fainted, and knew no more.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, standing in the dark at Mrs. Lane's door, was trembling all over.
+Even her voice trembled.  When Mrs. Lane at last opened her window and
+called out "Who's there?" it shook so, she could not make herself heard
+until she had spoken three times.</p>
+
+<p>"It's me&mdash;Mona Carne.  Oh, Mrs. Lane, I'm so frightened!  Granny's very
+ill, please will you&mdash;come in?&mdash;I&mdash;I don't know what to do for her."</p>
+
+<p>"Mona Carne!  Oh!" Mona heard the surprise in Mrs. Lane's voice,
+and feared she was going to refuse her.  Then "Wait a minute," she said,
+"I'll come down."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's tears stopped, but she still trembled.  Help was coming to granny&mdash;
+but she still had her confession to make, and it seemed such an awful
+ordeal to face.  All the time she stood waiting there under the stars,
+with the scent of the flowers about her, she was wondering desperately how
+she could begin, what she could say, and how excuse herself.</p>
+
+<p>She was still absorbed, and still had not come to any decision, when the
+door behind her opened, and a voice said kindly, "Come inside, Mona, and
+tell me what is the matter," and Mona stepped from the starlit night into
+the warm, dimly lighted kitchen, and found herself face to face with her
+old kind friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, tell me all about it," said Mrs. Lane again catching sight of Mona's
+frightened, disfigured face.  "Why, how you are trembling, child, have you
+had a shock?  Were you in bed?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona nodded.  "Yes, I'd been in bed a good while when I heard a cry,
+such a funny kind of cry!  At first I thought it must be the owl, but when
+I heard it again and again I thought it must be granny, and I got up and
+went to her.  And, oh, I was frightened, she was lying all crumpled up in
+the bed, and she was groaning something dreadful.  She was very ill, she
+said, and she must have the doctor&mdash;but she wouldn't let me go to fetch
+him, 'cause she was afraid to be left alone.  I was frightened to be there
+by myself, and I didn't know what to do for her and I said I'd run in and
+ask you to come&mdash;but she said she'd rather die&mdash;she said I mustn't
+because&mdash;because&mdash;oh you know," gasped Mona, breathless after her
+outpouring of words, "and&mdash;and then&mdash;I&mdash;told her&mdash;about&mdash;about that&mdash;that
+'twas me pulled down the faggots, and you were right, and she looked&mdash;oh
+she looked dreadful, she was so angry!  And then I came in to tell you;
+and, oh Mrs. Lane, I am so sorry I behaved so, I&mdash;I never meant to,
+I never meant Tom and Daisy to have the blame.  And, please Mrs. Lane,
+will you forgive me, and speak to me again?  I've been so&mdash;so mis'rubble,
+and I didn't know how to set things right again."  But here Mona's voice
+failed her altogether, and, worn out with the day's events, and the
+night's alarm, and all the agitation and trouble both had brought,
+she broke down completely.  Mrs. Lane was quite distressed by the violence
+of her sobs.</p>
+
+<p>"There, there, don't cry so, child, and don't worry any more," she said
+gently, putting her arm affectionately round Mona's shaking shoulders,
+"It's all over now! and we are all going to be as happy and friendly again
+as ever we used to be.  Mona, dear, I am so glad, so thankful that you
+have spoken.  It hurt me to think that I had been deceived in you,
+but I know now that you were my own little Mona all the time.  There,
+dear, don't cry any more; we must think about poor granny.  Come along,
+we will see what we can do to help her."</p>
+
+<p>They stepped out into the starlit night, hand in hand, and though her
+grandmother's illness filled Mona with anxiety, she felt as though a heavy
+care had been lifted from her heart, a meanness from her soul; and, as she
+hurried through the scented gardens, she lifted up her face to the starry
+sky, and her heart to the God who looked down on her through Heaven's
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>In the house, when they reached it, all was as she had left it, except
+that now a deep, deep silence reigned; a silence that, somehow, struck a
+chill to both hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"How quiet it is!  She was making such a noise before," Mona whispered,
+hesitating nervously at the foot of the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect she has fallen asleep, I'll go up first and see; you light the
+lamp in the kitchen, and bring me up a glass of cold water.  Or would you
+rather come with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I will come with you."  She could not rid herself of the feeling that
+her granny was dead&mdash;had died angry with her, at the last.  She felt sure
+of it, too, when she saw her lying so still and white on her pillow.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Lane placed her hand over the tired, faintly-beating heart.
+"She is only faint," she said assuringly, a note of intense relief in her
+voice.  "She is coming round.  Run and fetch me some water, dear,
+and open that window as you pass."</p>
+
+<p>So granny, when she presently opened her eyes and looked about her,
+found Mona on one side of her and her old friend on the other; and both
+were looking at her with tender anxious eyes, and faces full of gladness
+at her recovery.</p>
+
+<p>The old feud was as dead as though it had never existed.</p>
+
+<p>"It's like going to sleep in a world of worries and waking up in a new
+one."  The poor old soul sighed contentedly, as she lay with the stars
+looking in on her, and the scent of the flowers wafting up to her through
+the open window.  "It was too bad, though, to be calling you up in the
+night&mdash;out of your bed.  I'm very much obliged to you, Mrs. Lane,
+I&mdash;I'm very glad to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"Not as glad as I am to come, I reckon," her neighbour smiled back at her,
+"we are all going to start afresh again from to-day, ain't we?  So it's as
+well to begin the day early, and make it as long as we can!"</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Granny was much better, and was downstairs again, but she was weak and
+very helpless still.  She was sad too, and depressed.  The last few weeks
+had shaken her confidence in herself, her spirit was strong enough still,
+but more than once lately her body had failed her.  When, in her old way,
+she had said that she would do this, or that, or the other thing, she had
+found out after all, that she could not.  Her body had absolutely refused
+to obey her.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't dependent on other folks yet!" she had said sharply, and had
+afterwards found out that she was, and the discovery alarmed her.
+It saddened her, and broke her spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to be in a home.  I'd rather be in one, or&mdash;or be dead, than be a
+burden on other folks," she moaned.</p>
+
+<p>Granny was very hard to live with in those days.  Even a grown-up would
+have found it difficult to know what to say in answer to her complainings.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny, don't talk like that!" Mona would plead, and she would work
+harder than ever that there might be nothing for granny to do, or to find
+fault with.  But however hard she worked, and however nice she kept
+things, she always found that there were still some things left undone,
+and that those were the very things that, in granny's opinion, mattered
+most.</p>
+
+<p>As for reading, or play-time, Mona never found any for either now, and oh,
+how often and how longingly her thoughts turned to the Quay, and to the
+rocks, and the games that were going on there evening after evening!
+Sometimes it almost seemed that she could hear the laughter and the calls,
+the voice of the sea, the rattle of the oars in the rowlocks, the cries of
+the gulls, and then she would feel as though she could not bear to be away
+from them all another moment.  That she must race back to them then and
+there; never, never to leave them any more!</p>
+
+<p>The loneliness, and the hard work, and the confinement to the house told
+on her.  She became thin, the colour died out of her cheeks, and the
+gladness from her eyes, and all the life and joyousness seemed to go out
+of her.  She grew, and grew rapidly, but she stooped so much she did not
+look as tall as she really was.</p>
+
+<p>Granny Barnes, looking at her sweeping out the path one day, had her eyes
+suddenly opened, and the revelation startled her.  She did not say
+anything to Mona, she just watched her carefully, but she did not again
+blame her for laziness; and while she watched her, her thoughts travelled
+backwards.  A year ago Mona had been noisy, lively, careless, but
+cheerful, always full of some new idea.  She had been round and rosy too,
+and full of mischief.  Now she was listless, quiet, and apparently
+interested in nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got a headache, Mona?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mona indifferently, "I don't think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Is your back aching?"</p>
+
+<p>"It always is."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why didn't you say so, child?"</p>
+
+<p>"What's the good?  The work has to be done."</p>
+
+<p>"If you're bad you must leave it undone.  You can't go making yourself
+ill."</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't ill, and I'd sooner do the work.  There's nothing else to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you read sometimes?  You used to be so fond of reading."</p>
+
+<p>"If I read I forget to do things, and then&mdash;&mdash;"  She was going to say
+"there's a row," but she stopped herself just in time.  "I've read all my
+books till I know them by heart nearly."  Even while she spoke she was
+getting out the ironing cloth, and spreading it on the table.
+The irons were already hot on the stove.</p>
+
+<p>Granny Barnes did not say any more, but sat for a long time gazing into
+the fire, apparently deep in thought.  Mona looking up presently,
+attracted by the silence, was struck by her weary, drooping look, by the
+sadness of the tired old eyes.  But she did not say anything.
+Presently granny roused herself and looked up.  "Put away your ironing,
+child," she said kindly, "and go out and have a game of play.  The air
+will do you good."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to go out, granny.  There's no one to play with&mdash;and I'm
+afraid to leave you; what could you do if you were to faint again?"</p>
+
+<p>Granny sighed.  The child was right.  "I&mdash;I could knock in to Mrs. Lane,
+perhaps," she said, but there was doubt in her voice, and she did not
+press Mona any further.</p>
+
+<p>Mona went on with her ironing, and granny went on staring into the fire,
+and neither spoke again for some time.  Not until Mona, going over to take
+up a fresh hot iron, saw something bright shining on her grandmother's
+cheek, then fall on to her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you feeling bad again, granny?" she asked anxiously.  The sight of
+the tear touched her, and brought a note of sympathy into her voice, and
+the sympathy in her voice in turn touched her granny, and drew both
+together.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I don't know that I'm feeling worse than usual, but&mdash;but, well I feel
+that it'd be a good thing if my time was ended.  I'm only a trouble and a
+burden now&mdash;no more help for anybody."</p>
+
+<p>"Granny! Granny!  You mustn't say such things!"  Mona dropped her iron
+back on the stove again, and threw herself on the floor beside her
+grandmother.  "You mustn't talk like that!  You're weak, that's all.
+You want to rest for a bit and have some tonics.  Mrs. Lane says so."</p>
+
+<p>"Does she?  I seem to want something," leaning her weary head against
+Mona's, "but it's more than tonics&mdash;it's a new body that I'm needing,
+I reckon.  I daresay it's only foolishness, but sometimes I feel like a
+little child, I want to be took care of, and someone to make much of me,
+and say like mother used to, 'Now leave everything to me.  I'll see to it
+all!'  It seems to me one wants a bit of petting when one comes to the end
+of one's life, as much as one does at the beginning&mdash;I don't know but what
+a little is good for one at any age."</p>
+
+<p>Mona slipped down till she sat on the floor at her granny's feet, her head
+resting against granny's knee.  "I think so too," she said wistfully.
+Silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire within
+and the buzz of insects, and the calling of the birds, outside in the
+garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona, how would you like it if we went into Seacombe to live?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona was up in a moment, her face alight with eagerness, but some instinct
+stopped her from expressing too much delight.  In the softened feeling
+which had crept into her heart, she realised that to her grandmother the
+move would mean a great wrench.</p>
+
+<p>"She must love Hillside as much, or <i>nearly</i> as much as I love Seacombe,"
+she told herself.  Aloud she said, "I'd like it, but you wouldn't, would
+you, granny?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I would.  I'd like to be nearer your father, and&mdash;and you would
+be happy there, and perhaps you'd feel stronger.  I'm getting to feel,"
+she added after a little pause, "that one can be happy anywhere, if those
+about one are happy.  Or, to put it another way, one can't be happy
+anywhere if those about one ain't happy."</p>
+
+<p>Mona felt very guilty.  "Granny," she said, but in rather a choky voice,
+"I'll be happy here, if you'd rather stay here&mdash;I will really.  I do love
+Hillside&mdash;it's only the sea I miss, and the fun, and&mdash;and the excitement
+when the boats come in&mdash;but I shall forget all about it soon, and I'll be
+happy here too, if you'd like to stay."</p>
+
+<p>She did try to put aside her own feelings, and speak cheerfully, and she
+succeeded&mdash;but, to her surprise, her grandmother did not jump at her
+offer.</p>
+
+<p>"No, child, I wouldn't rather stay.  I'd like to go.  I feel I want to be
+near my own, and your father and you are all I've got.  I think I'll ask
+him if he can find a little house that'll suit us."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you live with us, granny? You can have my room."</p>
+
+<p>But granny would not hear of that.  "I've always had a home of my own, and
+I couldn't live in anybody else's," she said decisively.  "Your
+stepmother's too much of an invalid herself too, to be able to look after
+another."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'd want me to live with you?" asked Mona, with a little break in
+her voice.  She was disappointed, but she tried not to show it.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dearie," her eyes scanning Mona's face wistfully, "wouldn't you like
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona hesitated for only a second, then "Yes, granny, I should," she said,
+and then as the idea became more familiar, she said more heartily,
+"Yes, I'd love to, and oh, granny, if we could only get one of the little
+houses down by the Quay it would be lovely!  I'm sure you'd like it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't live down by the Quay," granny interrupted sharply,
+"I wouldn't live there if a house was given me rent free.  It is too
+noisy, for one thing, and you feel every breath of wind that blows."</p>
+
+<p>"But you're close, when the boats come in&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Aye, and when they don't come in," said granny.  "I ain't so fond of the
+sea as you are, and I should never know any rest of mind down close by it.
+Every time the wind blew I'd be terrified."</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked vexed.  "It isn't often that there's any place at all to let,"
+she said crossly.  "If we don't take what we can get, we shall never go at
+all."</p>
+
+<p>But Granny Barnes was not alarmed.  "Don't you trouble yourself about
+that.  Your father'll find us something for certain.  He'd got his eye on
+a little place when he was here, he wanted me to take it then.  I almost
+wish I had, now.  Never mind, I'll write to him to-night or to-morrow.
+If I was well I would go in by John Darbie's van and have a look about for
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>All this sounded so much like business, that Mona sat up, all her glumness
+falling from her.  When Granny Barnes once made up her mind to do a thing,
+she did not let the grass grow under her feet.  There was, after all, much
+of Mona's nature in her, and when once she had made up her mind to leave
+her old home, it almost seemed as though she could not get away quickly
+enough.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps it was that she felt her courage might fail her if she gave
+herself much time to think about things.  Perhaps she felt she could not
+face the pain and the worry if she gave herself time to worry much.
+ Or, it may have been that she really did feel anxious about Mona's health
+and her own, and wanted to be settled in Seacombe as soon as possible.</p>
+
+<p>At any rate she so managed that within a fortnight all her belongings were
+mounted on to two of Mr. Dodd's waggons and were carried off to the new
+home, while she and Mona followed in John Darbie's van, seen off by Mrs.
+Lane.  Mrs. Lane was very tearful and sad at parting with them.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it's for the best for both of you&mdash;but I feel as if I can't bear
+the sight nor the thought of the empty home."  Then she kissed them both,
+and stood in the road in the sunshine, waving her hand to them till they
+were out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>"Wave your handkerchief to her, Mona; blow another kiss to her, child."
+But granny kept her own head turned away, and her eyes fixed on the bit of
+white dusty road which lay ahead of them.  Neither could she bear the
+sight of the empty house, nor of the neighbour she was leaving.</p>
+
+<p>Mona's eyes were full of tears, but granny's were dry, though her sorrow
+was much deeper than Mona's.  John Darbie tactfully kept his tongue quiet,
+and his eyes fixed on the scenery.  He understood that his old friend was
+suffering, and would want to be left alone for a while.  So, for the first
+part of the way, they jogged along in silence, except for the scrunching
+of the gravel beneath the wheels, and the steady thud, thud of the old
+horse's hoofs, Granny Barnes looking forward with sad stern eyes, and a
+heart full of dread; Mona looking back through tears, but with hope in her
+heart; the old driver staring thoughtfully before him at the familiar way,
+along which he had driven so many, old and young; happy and sad, some
+willing, some unwilling, some hopeful, others despondent.  The old man
+felt for each and all of them, and helped them on their way, as far as he
+might travel it with them, and sent many a kind thought after them, which
+they never knew of.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," he said at last, speaking his thoughts aloud, "in every
+change we can find some happiness.  There's always something we can do for
+somebody.  So far as I can see, there's good to be got out of most
+things."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes' gaze came back from the wide-stretching scene beside her, and
+rested enquiringly on the old speaker.  "Do 'ee think so?" she asked
+eagerly.  "'Tis dreadful to be filled with doubts about what you're
+doing," she added pathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't 'ee doubt, ma'am.  Once you've weighed the matter and looked at it
+every way, and have at last made up your mind, don't you let yourself
+harbour any doubts.  Act as if you hadn't got any choice, and go straight
+ahead."</p>
+
+<p>"But how is anyone to know?  It may be that one took the way 'cause it was
+the easiest."</p>
+
+<p>"Very often it's the easiest way 'cause it's the way the Lord has opened
+for us," said the old man simply, and with perfect faith.  "Then I count
+it we're doubting Him if we go on questioning."</p>
+
+<p>The look of strained anxiety in Granny Barnes' eyes had already given way
+to one more peaceful and contented.</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't thought of that," she said softly, and presently she added, "It
+takes a load off one's mind if one looks at it that way."</p>
+
+<p>Mona, who had been listening too, found John Darbie's words repeating
+themselves over and over again in her mind.  "There's always something we
+can do&mdash;there's good to be got out of most things."  They set themselves
+to the rhythm of the old horse's slow steps&mdash;"There is always something&mdash;
+there is always something&mdash;we can do&mdash;we can do, there is always something
+we can do."</p>
+
+<p>Throughout that long, slow journey on that sunshiny day they rang in her
+head, and her heart chanted them.  And though in the years that followed
+she often forgot her good resolutions, and many and many a time did wrong
+and foolish things, knowing them to be wrong and foolish, though she let
+herself be swayed by her moods, when she should have fought against them,
+she never entirely forgot old John Darbie's simple, comforting words, nor
+the lesson they had taught her that day, and unconsciously they helped her
+on her life's road, just as he himself helped her along her road to her
+new home.</p>
+
+<p>There was indeed a great deal that she could do, as she discovered
+presently, when the van deposited them and their parcels at the door of
+their new home, for the furniture had arrived but a couple of hours
+earlier, and though her father and the man had lifted most of the heavier
+things into their places, and Lucy had done all that she could to make the
+little house look habitable, there was much that Mona, knowing her
+grandmother's ways as well as she did, could do better than anyone else.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the van drew near, Lucy was at the door to greet them, and in
+the warmth and pleasure of her welcome, Mona entirely forgot the
+circumstances under which they had last parted: and it never once occurred
+to her to think how different their meeting might have been had Lucy not
+been of the sweet-tempered forgiving nature that she was.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy had forgotten too.  She only remembered how glad she was to have them
+there, and what a trying day it must have been for poor old Granny Barnes.
+And when, instead of the stern, cold, complaining old woman that she had
+expected, she saw a fragile, pale-faced little figure, standing looking
+forlorn, weary, and half-frightened on the path outside her new home,
+Lucy quite forgot her dread of her, and her whole heart went out in
+sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>Putting her arms round her, she kissed her as warmly as though it had been
+her own mother, and led her tenderly into the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you trouble about a single thing more, granny, there are plenty of
+us to see to everything.  The fire is burning, and your own armchair is
+put by it, and all you've got to do is to sit there till you're rested and
+tell us others what you'd like done."</p>
+
+<p>Granny Barnes did not speak, but Lucy understood.  She took up the poker
+and stirred the coals to a more cheerful blaze.  "It's a fine little stove
+to burn," she said cheerfully, "and it is as easy as possible to light."</p>
+
+<p>Granny was interested at once, "Is it?  How beautiful and bright it is.
+Did you do that, Lucy?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucy nodded.  "I love polishing up a stove," she said with a smile,
+"it repays you so for the trouble you take.  Don't you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I used to spend hours over mine, but I don't seem to have the
+strength now.  Mona does very well though.  Where's Peter?  Out fishing?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he's upstairs putting up your bed.  He has nearly done.  Mona's is up
+already.  You've got a sweet little room, Mona.  You'll love it, I know."</p>
+
+<p>Mona ran upstairs at once to inspect.  She was bubbling over with
+excitement and happiness.  Her room was, she knew, at the back of the
+house, so she went to it straight.  It was in a great muddle, of course,
+but the bed was in place, and the chest of drawers.  The walls had been
+newly papered, the paper had little bunches of field daisies all over it,
+white and red-tipped, each bunch was tied with a blade of green grass.
+Mona thought it perfectly exquisite, but it was the window which took her
+fancy captive.  It was a lattice window, cut deep in the wall, and before
+it was a seat wide enough for Mona to sit in&mdash;and beyond the window was
+the sea!</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be able to sit there, and read, and sew, and watch the boats going
+by," she thought delightedly, "and I'll have little muslin curtains tied
+back with ribbons, and a flounce of muslin across the top.  Oh, I shall
+love it up here!  I shall never want to go out.  It's nicer even than my
+room at father's, and ever so much nicer than the 'Hillside' one!"</p>
+
+<p>A sound of hammering and banging came from the other side of the tiny
+landing.</p>
+
+<p>"That must be father, putting up granny's bed," she hurried out, and
+across to him.  He had just finished, and was pushing the bed into place.
+Two great bundles tied up in sheets filled up most of the rest of the
+floor.  One held Granny Barnes' feather-tie, the other her pillow-cases,
+sheets and blankets.</p>
+
+<p>"I do hope your grandmother'll be well and comfortable here," he said
+anxiously, "and happy.  If it rests with us to make her so, she shall be.
+Mona, you'd better make up her bed soon.  Don't leave it for her to do
+herself.  She'll most likely be glad to go to bed early to-night, she must
+be tired.  There's no moving round the room, either, with those great
+bundles there.  I'll lift the feather-tie on to the bed for you."</p>
+
+<p>"All right&mdash;in a minute, father."</p>
+
+<p>Granny's bedroom window looked out on the hill.  Further up the hill, on
+the opposite side, was Cliff Cottage.  It could be just seen from granny's
+new home.  How small and strange it all looked, thought Mona, and how
+narrow the hill was, but how homelike and beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>While she gazed out Millie Higgins and Philippa Luxmore appeared, they
+were coming down the hill together.  Millie had on a pink dress almost
+exactly like Mona's.</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;why, she's copied me!" thought Mona indignantly, a wave of hot anger
+surging up in her heart.  "She's a regular copy-cat!  She can't think of a
+thing for herself, but directly anyone else has it, she must go and copy
+them.  I'd be ashamed if I was her.  Now I shan't like my pink frock any
+more!"</p>
+
+<p>As though attracted by the gaze on her, Millie looked up at the window,
+and straight into Mona's eyes, but instead of feeling any shame, she only
+laughed.  She may not have remembered her own frock, or Mona's, she was
+probably not laughing at Mona's annoyance, it is very likely that she was
+amused at something she and Philippa were talking about, but Mona thought
+otherwise, and only glared back at her with angry, contemptuous eyes.
+She saw Millie's face change, and saw her whisper in Philippa's ear,
+then she heard them both laugh, and her heart was fuller than ever of
+hatred, and mortification.  Mortification with herself partly, for
+allowing Millie to see that she was vexed.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, how she wished now, that instead of letting Millie see how she had
+annoyed her, she had acted as though she did not notice, or did not mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona, give me a hand here a minute, will you?"  Her father's voice broke
+in on her musings, "that rope is caught round the bedpost."</p>
+
+<p>Mona went over, and released the rope, but returned again to the window.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't bustle round, little maid, we shall never be done," said her
+father.  "I want to get it all as right as I can before I go, or your
+grand-mother'll be doing it herself, and making herself ill again.
+You can look out of window another day, there'll be plenty of time for
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm tired," grumbled Mona sulkily, "I can't be always working."</p>
+
+<p>Her father straightened his back, and looked at her.  His eyes were
+reproachful and grieved.  Mona's own eyes fell before them.  Already she
+was sorry that she had spoken so.  She did not feel in the least as she
+had said she did.  She was put out about Millie, and Millie's frock, that
+was all.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona, my girl," he said gravely, "you put me in mind of a weather-cock in
+a shifty wind.  Nobody can tell for half an hour together what quarter
+it'll be pointing to.  'Tis the shifty wind that does the most mischief
+and is hardest to bear with.  When you came in just now, I'd have said you
+were pointing straight south, but a few minutes later you've veered right
+round to the north-east.  What's the meaning of it, child?  What's the
+matter with 'ee.  It doesn't give 'ee much pleasure to know you're
+spoiling everybody else's, does it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona gulped down her tears.  "No&mdash;o, I&mdash;I&mdash;it was Millie Higgins' fault.
+She's been and got a dress&mdash;&mdash;"  And then she suddenly felt ashamed of
+herself, and ashamed to repeat anything so petty, and she gulped again,
+and this time she swallowed her bad temper too.  "No&mdash;I'm&mdash;I'm 'set fair'
+now, father!" she added, and, though there was a choke in her voice,
+as though her temper was rather hard to swallow, there was a smile in her
+eyes, and in a very little while granny's feather-bed was shaken up as
+soft and smooth as ever granny herself could have made it, and the bed was
+made up.  And then by degrees everything in the room was got into place
+just as its mistress liked it, so that when granny came up later on and
+saw her new room, she exclaimed aloud in pleased surprise:</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it looks like home already," she cried, "and that's our Mona's
+doing, I know!"</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0010"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mona sat reading, curled upon the window seat in her bedroom.  She spent a
+great deal of her time there.  Sometimes sewing, but more often either
+reading, or looking out at the view.  For a few days she had been busy
+making curtains for her window, and a frill to go across the top, and,
+as granny had firmly refused to buy wide pink ribbon to fasten back the
+curtains, Mona had hemmed long strips of some of the print left over from
+her own pink dress.</p>
+
+<p>But all this was done now, and Mona was very proud of her handiwork.
+The frill was a little deeper on one side than the other, but that was a
+trifle.  Mona thought that the whole effect was very smart; so smart,
+indeed, that she sometimes wished that her window was in the front of the
+house, so that people going up and down the hill might see it.
+"But I s'pose one can't have everything," she concluded, with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>Granny's window, which did look out on the hill, was anything but smart,
+for she had had neither time nor strength to make her curtains, and Mona
+had not offered to make them for her.</p>
+
+<p>Granny had gone up to Lucy's that very afternoon, and taken them with her,
+hoping to work at them a little while she talked.  She often went up to
+sit with Lucy.  Perhaps she found it dull at home, with Mona always shut
+up in her own room.  Lucy's garden delighted her too.  She had none
+herself that could compare with it.  In the front there was a tiny patch
+close under her window, and there was a long strip at the back, but only a
+very few things had the courage to grow there, for the wind caught it, and
+the salt sea-spray came up over it, and blighted every speck of green that
+had the courage to put its head out.  Lucy's garden and Lucy's kitchen
+both delighted her.  She said the kitchen was more cheerful than hers,
+but it was really Lucy's presence that made it so.  Lucy was always so
+pleased to see her, so ready to listen to her stories, or to tell her own,
+if granny was too tired to talk.  She always listened to her advice, too,
+which was quite a new experience to Mrs. Barnes.</p>
+
+<p>This afternoon, while granny was talking, and taking a stitch
+occasionally, Lucy picked up the other curtain and made it.  It was not a
+very big matter; all the windows in Seacombe houses were small.  Then she
+put on the kettle, and while it was boiling she took the other curtain
+from granny's frail hand and worked away at that too.  The weather was
+hot, and the door stood wide open, letting in the mingled scents of the
+many sweet flowers which filled every foot of the garden.  A sweet-brier
+bush stood near the window, great clumps of stocks, mignonette and
+verbenas lined the path to the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't mean to stay to tea," said granny, realizing at last that Lucy
+was preparing some for her.  "I was going to get home in time."</p>
+
+<p>"Mona won't have got it, will she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, she won't think about it, I expect.  She has got a book, and when
+she's reading she's lost to everything.  I never knew a child so fond of
+reading."</p>
+
+<p>"You spoil her, granny!  You let her have her own way too much."</p>
+
+<p>Then they both laughed, for each accused the other of 'spoiling' Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like her to work too hard," said granny.  "She'd got to look very
+thin and delicate.  I think she's looking better, though, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ever so much," Lucy reassured her, and granny's face brightened.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, meanwhile, went on reading, lost, as granny said, to everything but
+her book.  She did not even look out to sea.  She heard no sound either in
+the house or out.  Heart and mind she was with the people of the story.
+She was living their life.</p>
+
+<p>The baker came and knocked two or three times; then, opening the door,
+put a loaf on the table, and went away.  Then presently came more
+knocking, and more, but none of it reached Mona's brain.  She was flying
+with the heroine, and enjoying hairbreadth escapes, while running away
+from her wicked guardian, when her bedroom door was flung open, and Millie
+Higgins&mdash;not the wicked guardian&mdash;appeared on the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>Mona gave a little cry of alarm, then immediately grew angry with herself
+for having let Millie see that she had startled her.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing up here?" she demanded, bluntly.  "Who told you to
+come up? Granny isn't in, is she?"</p>
+
+<p>Millie laughed.  "If your grandmother had been in I should have been at
+the other end of the street by this time.  I've no fancy for facing
+dragons in their caves."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be rude," retorted Mona, colouring with anger.  Millie always
+laughed at Mrs. Barnes, because she was old-fashioned in her dress and
+ways.  "How did you get in, and why did you come?  If granny didn't send
+you up, you'd no right to come.  It's like your cheek, Millie Higgins, to
+go forcing your way into other people's houses!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's like your carelessness to shut yourself up with a story-book and
+leave your front door open.  I ain't the first that has been in!
+Wouldn't your grandmother be pleased if she knew how trustworthy her dear,
+good little Mona was."</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked frightened, and Millie noticed it.  "What do you mean,
+Millie?"</p>
+
+<p>Millie had seen the baker come, knock, open the door, and leave again
+after depositing a loaf on the table.  She had also seen Mrs. Barnes
+comfortably settled in Lucy Carne's kitchen, and she determined to have
+some fun.  She loved teasing and annoying everyone she could.</p>
+
+<p>"Come down and see what they've done.  At any rate, you might be civil to
+anyone who comes in to warn you before any more harm is done."</p>
+
+<p>Mona, still looking alarmed, slipped from the window-seat and followed
+Millie down the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>While she stood at the foot of them, glancing about her anxiously, Millie
+stepped over and shut the house door.</p>
+
+<p>"Where?&mdash;What?&mdash;I don't see anything wrong," said Mona.  Millie burst into
+mocking laughter.  "I don't suppose you do!  Silly-billy, cock-a-dilly,
+how's your mother, little Mona! Why, how stupid you are! Anyone can get a
+rise out of you! I only wanted to frighten you and get you downstairs.
+You're going to ask me to tea now, and give me a nice one, too, aren't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona was trembling with mortification and anger.  "No, I am not," she
+said, "and if you don't go out of here in a minute I'll&mdash;I'll&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no&mdash;you won't, dear.  You couldn't if you wanted to&mdash;but you don't
+really want to, I know.  Now poke up the fire and get me some tea.
+I hope you have something nice to eat."</p>
+
+<p>Mona stood by the dressers, her thoughts flying wildly through her brain.
+What could she do?  Millie was taller, older, and stronger than herself,
+so she could not seize her, and put her out by force.  Mona knew, too,
+that she would not listen to pleading or to coaxing.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if only someone would come!"  She made a move towards the door, but
+Millie was too quick for her, and got between her and it.</p>
+
+<p>"Millie, you've got to go away.  You'll get me into an awful row if you
+are found here, and&mdash;and I can't think how you can push yourself in where
+you ain't wanted."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, fie!  Little girls shouldn't be rude&mdash;it shows they haven't been
+properly brought up."</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not answer.  She was trying to think what she could do.  If she
+went out of the house would Millie follow?</p>
+
+<p>Millie picked up a newspaper, and pretended to read it, but over the top
+of it she was watching Mona all the time.  She loved teasing, and she
+thought she had power to make younger girls do just as she wished.
+But Mona stood leaning against the dressers, showing no sign of giving in.</p>
+
+<p>Millie grew impatient.  "Wake up, can't you!" she cried, and, picking up a
+cushion from an armchair beside her, she threw it across the room at Mona.
+"I want my tea!"</p>
+
+<p>The cushion flew past Mona without touching her, but it fell full crash
+against the china on the dressers behind her.  Mona screamed, and tried to
+catch what she could of the falling things.  Cups, plate, jugs came
+rolling down on the top of those below.  What could one pair of small
+hands do to save them!</p>
+
+<p>The set, a tea-set, and her grandmother's most treasured possession, had
+been kept for a hundred years without a chip or a crack.  It had been her
+grandmother's and her great-grandmother's before that.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, white to the lips, and trembling, stood like an image of despair.
+Her hands were cut, but she did not notice that.  Millie was pale, too,
+and really frightened, though she tried to brazen it out.  "Now there'll
+be a fine old row, and you will be in it, Mona Carne.  It was all your
+fault, you know."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona felt no fear for herself yet.  She could think of nothing but her
+grandmother's grief when she learned of the calamity which had befallen
+her.  Somebody had to break the news to her, too, and that somebody would
+have to be herself.  Mona leaned her elbows on the dressers amongst the
+broken china and, burying her face in her hands, burst into a torrent of
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>Millie spoke to her once or twice, but Mona could not reply.  "Well, if
+she won't open her lips, I might as well go," thought Millie, and,
+creeping out of the front door, she hurried away down the hill, only too
+delighted to have got away so easily.</p>
+
+<p>Mona heard her go, but made no effort to stop her.  She felt too utterly
+miserable even to reproach her.</p>
+
+<p>Presently other footsteps came to the door, followed by a gentle knocking.
+Mona, in consternation, straightened herself and wiped her eyes.
+"Who can it be?  I can't go to the door like this!"  Her face was crimson,
+and her eyes were nearly closed, they were so swelled.</p>
+
+<p>The knock was repeated.  "Mona, may I come in?"  It was Patty Row's voice.
+Mona was fond of Patty, and she had begun to long for sympathy and advice.</p>
+
+<p>"Cub id," she called out as well as she could.  "Cub id, Paddy."
+Patty opened the door.  "What a dreadful cold you've got," she said,
+sympathetically.  "I've just seen your grandmother, and she asked me to
+tell you she's having tea with Lucy."  Mona turned and faced her.</p>
+
+<p>"Why!&mdash;Why! Mona!  Oh, my!  Whatever is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona's tears began again, nearly preventing her explanation.
+"Millie Higgins came in, and&mdash;and got teasing me, and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I've just seen her hurrying home," cried Patty.  "I thought she came out
+from here.  What has she done, Mona?  She's always bullying somebody."</p>
+
+<p>"She&mdash;she threw the cushion at me, 'cause&mdash;'cause I didn't get her some
+tea, and&mdash;oh, Patty, what shall I do?&mdash;just look at what she has done.
+That tea-set was more than a hundred years old, and&mdash;and granny thinks the
+world of it&mdash;and I've got to tell her."  Mona's voice rose to a pitiful
+wail.  "Oh, my.  I wish&mdash;I wish I was dead.  I wish&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That'd only be another great trouble for her to bear," said wise little
+Patty, soberly.  "Millie ought to tell her, of course.  It's her doing.
+P'raps that is where she has gone."</p>
+
+<p>Mona shook her head.  She had no hope of Millie's doing that.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Patty, in her determined little way, "if she doesn't it
+shan't be for want of being told that she ought to."</p>
+
+<p>"She'll never do it," said Mona, hopelessly.  "I'll have to bear the
+blame.  I can't sneak on Millie, and&mdash;and so granny'll always think I did
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Patty pursed up her pretty lips.  "Will she?" she thought to herself.
+"She won't if I can help it," but she did not say so aloud.  "Let's sort
+it out, and see how much really is broken," she said, lifting off the
+fatal cushion.  "P'raps it isn't as bad as it looks."</p>
+
+<p>Mona shook her head despondently.  "It sounded as if every bit was
+smashed.  There's one cup in half, and a plate with a piece out&mdash;no, those
+jugs were common ones, they don't matter so much," as Patty picked up a
+couple, one with its handle off, the other all in pieces.  "Here's a cup
+without any handle&mdash;oh, poor granny, it'll break her heart, and&mdash;and
+she'll never forgive me.  I don't see how she can.  Oh, Patty!
+Did anybody in all the world ever have such a trouble before?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't be surprised," said Patty.  "There, that's the lot, Mona.
+It's bad enough, but not so bad as it seemed at first.  There's two cups,
+a plate, and a saucer of the set broken.  Two jugs, a basin, and a plate
+of the common things."</p>
+
+<p>She put the broken bits of the tea-set on the table, and began to arrange
+what was left on the dressers, so as to conceal the painful gaps.
+"There, it doesn't look so dreadful now.  What had we better do next,
+Mona?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona turned away and dropped into granny's big chair.  "I&mdash;I've got to
+tell her, that's what I'd better do next!" she cried.  She flung her arms
+out on the table, and buried her face in them, sobbing aloud in her
+misery.</p>
+
+<p>Patty, alarmed at her grief, went over and put her arms around her shaking
+shoulders.  "Mona!&mdash;Mona, dear, don't cry so.  You'll be ill.  I'll go and
+tell Mrs. Barnes about it, and&mdash;and I'll tell her it wasn't your fault."</p>
+
+<p>A slight sound made them both look towards the door&mdash;and they saw that
+there was no longer any need for anyone to break the news.  Granny Barnes
+knew it already.</p>
+
+<p>For what seemed to the two girls minutes and minutes, no one uttered a
+word.  Granny with wide eyes and stricken face, stood staring at her
+broken treasures, and the two girls stared at granny.  All three faces
+were tragic.  At last she came slowly forward, and took up one of the
+broken pieces.  Her poor old hands were shaking uncontrollably.</p>
+
+<p>Mona sprang to her, and flung her arms about her.  "Oh, granny, granny,
+what can I do?  It&mdash;was an accident&mdash;I mean, I couldn't help it.
+Oh, I'd sooner anything had happened to me than to your tea-set."</p>
+
+<p>Patty Row slipped out of the house, and gently closed the door behind her.
+She had meant to stay and speak up for Mona, but something told her that
+there would be no need for that.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mrs. Barnes dropped heavily into her seat.  "I wouldn't then, dear.
+There's worse disasters than&mdash;than broken china."</p>
+
+<p>Mona's sobs ceased abruptly.  She was so astonished at her grandmother's
+manner of taking her trouble, she could scarcely believe her senses.
+"But I&mdash;I thought you prized it so, granny&mdash;above everything?"</p>
+
+<p>"So I did," said granny, pathetically.  "I think I prized it too much,
+but when you get old, child, and&mdash;and the end of life's journey is in
+sight, you&mdash;you&mdash;well, somehow, these things don't seem to matter so much.
+'Tis you will be the loser, dearie.  When I'm gone the things will be
+yours.  I've had a good many years with my old treasures for company,
+so I can't complain."</p>
+
+<p>Mona stood looking at her grandmother with a dawning fear on her face.
+"Granny, you ain't ill, are you?  You don't feel bad, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes shook her head.  "No, I ain't ill, only a bit tired.
+It's just that the things that used to matter don't seem to, now,
+and those that&mdash;that, well, those that did seem to me to come second,
+they matter most&mdash;they seem to be the only ones that matter at all."</p>
+
+<p>Patty Row had done well to go away and leave the two alone just then.
+Granny, with a new sense of peace resting on her, which even the loss of
+her cherished treasures could not disturb, and Mona, with a strange
+seriousness, a foreboding of coming trouble on her, which awakened her
+heart to a new sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, child, how you must have cried to swell your eyes up like that."
+Granny, rousing herself at last out of a day-dream, for the first time
+noticed poor Mona's face.  "Isn't your head aching?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dreadfully," sighed Mona, realizing for the first time how acute the
+pain was.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't I see Patty here when I came in?  Where has she gone?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Patty didn't break the things, did she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she tell you what she came about?"</p>
+
+<p>"To tell me you were having tea with mother."</p>
+
+<p>"But there was more than that.  She came to ask if you'd go to Sunday
+School with her on Sunday.  Her teacher told her to ask you.  You used to
+go, didn't you?  Why have you given it up?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona nodded, but she coloured a little.  "I thought the girls&mdash;all knew
+about&mdash;about my running away."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think they do&mdash;but I don't see that that matters.  You'd like to
+go again, wouldn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'd like to go with Patty.  Miss Lester's her teacher, and they've
+got a library belonging to their class.  You can have a book every week to
+bring home."  Mona's face grew quite bright, but a faint shadow had crept
+over granny's.</p>
+
+<p>"You read a lot, Mona.  So many stories and things ain't good for you.
+Do you ever read your Bible?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona looked surprised.  "N&mdash;no.  I haven't got it here.  It's up at
+Lucy's."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes groaned.  "Oh, child, to think of our not having a Bible in
+the house between us!"</p>
+
+<p>"There's the Fam'ly Bible back there," said Mona, quickly, feeling
+suddenly that a house without a Bible in it was not safe.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but it's never opened, not even to look at the pictures.  If you had
+one in every room in the house you wouldn't be any the better for it if
+you never read them, and&mdash;and acted 'pon what you're taught there."</p>
+
+<p>"But if you can't see to read," said Mona, trying to find excuses,
+"what's the good of your having a Bible?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you can see, and can read too, and I could till lately, and, anyway,
+you can read to me, and that's what I ought to have got you to do.
+I feel I haven't done my duty by you, child."</p>
+
+<p>Mona threw up her head.  "I don't s'pose we're any worse than some that
+read their Bibles every day," she said, complacently.  She had often heard
+others say that, and thought it rather fine.</p>
+
+<p>"That's not for you or me to say," retorted granny sternly.  "That's the
+excuse folks always bring out when they ain't ashamed of themselves, but
+ought to be.  If we ain't any worse, we ain't any better, and until we are
+we've no right to speak of others; and if we are&mdash;why, we shouldn't think
+of doing so.  Most folks, though, who say that, do think themselves a deal
+better than others, though they don't say so in as many words."</p>
+
+<p>Mona stood staring into the fire, thinking matters over.  She was very apt
+to take things to herself, and she was trying to assure herself that she
+never did think herself better than others&mdash;not better even than Millie
+Higgins.  But she was not very well satisfied with the result.</p>
+
+<p>Granny's voice died away, the sun went down, and the room began to grow
+dim.  Two lumps of coal fell together, and, bursting into a blaze, roused
+Mona from her reverie.  She turned quickly, and found her grandmother
+gazing at the two halves of the broken tea-cup which she held in her
+hands.  In the light of the fire tears glistened on her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>Mona felt a sudden great longing to comfort her, to make life happier for
+her.  "Granny, would you have liked me to have read some of my books to
+you sometimes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very much, dearie.  I always loved a nice story."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;why ever didn't you say so before."  The words broke from Mona like a
+cry of reproach.  "I didn't know, I never thought&mdash;I thought you'd think
+them silly or&mdash;or&mdash;something."</p>
+
+<p>"I know&mdash;it wasn't your fault.  Sometimes I think it'd be better if we
+asked more of each other, and didn't try to be so independent.  It's those
+that you do most for that you care most for&mdash;and miss most when they're
+gone!" added granny, half under her breath.</p>
+
+<p>Once again Mona was struck by the curious change in granny's tone and
+manner, and felt a depressing sense of foreboding.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like me to read to you now, granny?  Out of&mdash;of the Bible?"
+She hesitated, as though shy of even speaking the name.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dearie, I'd dearly love to hear the 86th Psalm."</p>
+
+<p>Mona hurriedly lifted the big book out from under the mats and odds and
+ends that were arranged on its side.  She had never read aloud from the
+Bible before, and at any other time her shyness would have almost overcome
+her.  To-day, though, she was possessed with a feeling that in the Bible
+she would perhaps find something that would rouse and cheer granny, and
+charm her own fears away, and she was in a hurry to get it and begin.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0011"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Patty found Millie Higgins down on the Quay, where she was shouting and
+laughing with five or six others who were playing 'Last Touch.'
+No one would have guessed that she had left two sad and aching hearts and
+a ruined treasure behind her but half an hour ago.</p>
+
+<p>Patty, with a growing scorn in her eyes, stood by talking to Philippa
+Luxmore until the game had finished.  She meant not to lose sight of
+Millie until she had had her say.  Millie caught sight of Patty, though,
+and dashed into another game without any pause.  She did not know that
+Patty had come especially to speak to her, but she did not want to have
+anything to say to Patty&mdash;not for a while, at any rate.  She would rather
+wait until the events of the afternoon had been forgotten a little.</p>
+
+<p>Patty guessed, though, what her purpose was, and, after she had waited for
+another game to end, she went boldly up to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Millie," she said, without any beating about the bush, "I've come to ask
+you to go and tell Mrs. Barnes that it was you that broke her beautiful
+tea-set."</p>
+
+<p>Millie coloured, but she only laughed contemptuously.  The rest of the
+little crowd looked on and listened, open-mouthed.  "Dear me!  Have you
+really, Miss Poll Pry!  Well, now you have asked me you can go home again,
+and attend to your own affairs.  We don't want you here."</p>
+
+<p>Patty took no notice of her rudeness.  "Millie," she pleaded, "you will
+tell?  You won't let Mona bear the blame."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what you're talking about&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you do.  I saw you come out.  I mean, I thought that was where
+you came from.  I was just going in to speak to Mona myself, and I found
+her&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mona Carne's a sneak."</p>
+
+<p>"No, she isn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she needn't tell her grandmother that she knows anything about it.
+It might have been the wind blew the things over, or a cat.  If I was Mona
+I'd go out to play, and let her come in and find the things."</p>
+
+<p>"Mona couldn't be so mean and underhand.  Mrs. Barnes knows about it
+already, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Then there's no need for me to tell her," retorted Millie, dancing away.
+"Ta-ta, Patty-preacher."</p>
+
+<p>Patty's patience gave out, she could not hide her disgust any longer.</p>
+
+<p>"Millie Higgins, I knew you were a bully and a coward, but I didn't know
+how mean a coward you were."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice rang out shrill with indignation, attracting the attention of
+everyone around.  The children stopped their play to stare; two or three
+people stopped their talk to listen.  They looked from Patty to Millie,
+and back again in shocked surprise.  Patty's voice was not so much angry
+as it was contemptuous, disgusted.  Millie could have better borne anger.
+People would then have thought Patty merely a cross child, and have passed
+on.  Instead of that they looked at her sympathetically, and at Millie
+askance.</p>
+
+<p>Millie walked away with her head in the air, but she was furious.
+"I'll pay her out!" she thought.  "I'll pay her out yet!"  She was so
+angry she could not get out a retort to Patty.  Her words seemed to catch
+in her throat and choke her.</p>
+
+<p>Patty walked away to the end of the Quay, and leaned out over the
+railings, looking towards the sea.  She was disheartened and angry,
+and ashamed of herself.  She was horribly ashamed of having called out
+like that to Millie.  It was a mean, common thing to do.  She felt she
+wanted to get out of sight, to escape the questions and chatter they would
+pour into her ears.  She would wait where she was until everyone else had
+gone home.  If anyone followed her, they would soon go away again when
+they found she would not talk to them.</p>
+
+<p>She got behind a tall stack of boxes, and turned her back on everyone.
+Her face was turned to the sea; her eyes gazed at the heaving waters,
+and the sun setting behind them, but her thoughts were with Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"How she did cry, poor Mona!  I didn't know she cared for her granny so
+much."  Then she wondered what they were doing at that moment, and how
+Mrs. Barnes was taking her loss.  By degrees the sun disappeared
+altogether, and twilight began to creep over her world.  Gradually the
+sounds of play and laughter and gossiping voices ceased.  One by one old
+folks and young went home.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd better go too," thought Patty, "or mother will be wondering where I
+am.  Oh, dear, there's my bootlace untied again!"  Still standing close to
+the edge of the Quay, she had stooped to tie the lace when, suddenly from
+behind, she received a blow in the back which sent her completely off her
+balance.  Reeling forward, she grabbed wildly at the rail to try and save
+herself, but missed it, and with a shriek of terror she fell over the edge
+and into the water below.  With another shriek she disappeared, and the
+water closed over her.</p>
+
+<p>Whence the blow came, or how, she had not time to think.  It seemed to her
+as though the sky had fallen and struck her.  She did not hear another cry
+which broke from someone's throat as her body disappeared, nor hear or see
+Millie Higgins running as though the police were already after her.</p>
+
+<p>Millie's first instinct was to get as far from the scene as possible.
+No one must know that she had been anywhere near the fatal spot.
+Then, fortunately, better and less selfish thoughts came to her.
+Patty was there alone in the deep cold water, in the dimness, fighting for
+her life.  If help did not come to her quickly she would die&mdash;and who was
+there to help but herself?</p>
+
+<p>"Patty!" she called.  "Patty! Where are you?"  Her voice rose high and
+shrill with terror.  "Oh, Patty, do speak!"</p>
+
+<p>Then up through the water came a small, dark head and white face, and
+then, to Millie's intense relief, a pair of waving arms.</p>
+
+<p>She was not dead, and she was conscious.  "Oh, thank God!" moaned Millie,
+and for perhaps the first time in her life she really thanked Him, and
+sent up a real prayer from the depths of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Patty," she called, "swim towards me.  I'll help you."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Patty heard her, but as one speaking in a dream, for her senses were
+fast leaving her.  Summoning up all the strength she had, she tried to
+obey, but she had only made a few strokes when she suddenly dropped her
+arms and sank again.</p>
+
+<p>With a cry of horror and despair, Millie rushed down and into the water.
+She could not swim, but she did not think of that now.  Nothing else
+mattered if she could but save Patty.  She waded into the water until she
+could scarcely touch the bottom with her feet.  A big wave came rolling
+in; one so big that it seemed as though it must carry her off her feet,
+and away to sea.</p>
+
+<p>It came, but it lifted her back quite close to the steps, and it brought
+poor little unconscious Patty almost close to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>Millie reached out and grabbed her by her hair and her skirt, and gripped
+her tight, but it was not easy.  Patty was a dead weight, and she had to
+keep her own foothold or both would have been carried away as the wave
+receded.  Millie felt desperate.  She could not raise Patty, heavy as she
+was in her water-soaked clothes, and Patty, still unconscious, could not
+help herself.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, at that moment, Peter Carne came rowing leisurely homewards,
+and in his boat with him was Patty Row's father.</p>
+
+<p>Millie caught sight of them, and a great sob of relief broke from her.
+She shouted and shouted at the top of her voice, and, clinging to Patty
+with one hand, she waved the other frantically.  "Would they see?
+Would they see?"  She screamed until she felt she had cracked her throat.
+"Oh, what a noise the sea made!" she thought frantically, "how could
+anyone's voice get above it."</p>
+
+<p>They heard or caught sight of her at last.  Her straining eyes saw the
+boat heading for them.  She saw Patty's father spring up and wave to them,
+then seize another pair of oars, and pull till the lumbering great boat
+seemed to skim the waves.  Then strong arms gripped them and lifted them
+into safety, and a moment or two later they were on the Quay once more,
+and hurrying homewards.</p>
+
+<p>Before she had been in her father's arms for many minutes Patty opened her
+big blue eyes, and looked about her wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Where&mdash;am&mdash;I?" she asked, through her chattering teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"You're in your old dad's arms now," said her father, brokenly, but with
+an attempt at a smile, "but you'll be rolled up in blankets in a few
+minutes, and popped into bed.  It's where you have been that matters most.
+How did you come to be taking a dip at this time, little maid, and with
+your boots on too?"</p>
+
+<p>"I fell in," whispered Patty, and closed her eyes again as the tiresome
+faintness crept over her.</p>
+
+<p>"It was my fault," sobbed Millie, thoroughly subdued and softened,
+and slightly hysterical too.  "I&mdash;I didn't mean to push her into the
+water&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It was an accident," said Patty, coming back out of her dreaminess.
+"I was stooping down&mdash;and overbalanced&mdash;that was all.  I was tying up my
+boot-lace."  And as she insisted on this, and would say nothing more,
+everyone decided that there was nothing more to say; and, as she had
+received no real injury, and was soon out and about again, the matter was
+gradually forgotten&mdash;by all, at least, but the two actors in what might
+have been an awful tragedy.</p>
+
+<p>Patty received no real injury, but it was a very white and tired little
+Patty who called on Mona on the following Sunday to go with her to Sunday
+School.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, having a shrewd suspicion that Patty could have told much more if
+she had chosen, was longing to ask questions, but Patty was not
+encouraging.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you think you were really going to die?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Patty, simply.</p>
+
+<p>"What did it feel like?  Were you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you." Patty's voice was very grave.  "Don't ask me, Mona.
+It's&mdash;it's too solemn to talk about."</p>
+
+<p>When they reached the school-yard gate, Millie Higgins came towards them.
+"Then you're able to come, Patty!  I'm so glad."  There was real feeling
+in Millie's words.  Her voice was full of an enormous relief.  Mona was
+astonished.  She herself did not look at Millie or speak to her.  She had
+not forgiven her for that afternoon's work, and she more than suspected
+her of being the cause of Patty's accident.</p>
+
+<p>As Millie did not move away, Mona strolled across with Patty still
+clinging to her arm, to where a group of girls stood talking together.
+Millie Higgins, with a rush of colour to her face, turned away and joined
+another group, but the group apparently did not see her, for none of them
+spoke to her, and Millie very soon moved away again to where two girls
+stood together, but as she approached the two they hastily linked arms
+and, turning their back on her, walked into the schoolroom.  Mona noticed
+both incidents, and, beginning to suspect something, kept both eyes and
+ears open.  Her suspicions were soon confirmed.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe that all the girls are giving Millie the cold shoulder,"
+she whispered at last in Patty's ear.  "They must have planned it all
+before.  You just watch for a few minutes.  She has been up to ever so
+many, and then, as soon as they notice her, they move away.  I wonder
+what's the meaning of it?  Millie notices it herself.  You just look at
+her.  She's as uncomfortable as she can be."</p>
+
+<p>Patty raised her head sharply, and followed the direction of Mona's eyes.
+Millie was just joining on to a group of four or five.  Patty saw a glance
+exchanged, and two girls turned on their heels at once; then another, and
+another, until Millie, with scared face and eyes full of shame and pain,
+stood alone once more.  She looked ready to cry with mortification.</p>
+
+<p>Patty, her face rosy with indignation, called across the yard to her; her
+clear voice raised so that all should hear.  "Millie, will you come for a
+walk when we come out of school this afternoon?"  Then going over and
+thrusting her arm through Millie's, she led her back to where Mona was
+still standing.</p>
+
+<p>"Mona is going, too, ain't you, Mona?  I don't know, though, if we shall
+have much time for a walk; we're going to the Library to choose a book
+each.  Which do you think Mona would like?"</p>
+
+<p>But Millie could not answer.  The unkindness she had met with that morning
+and the kindness had stabbed deep; so deep that her eyes were full of
+tears, and her throat choked with sobs.  Mona, looking up, saw it, and all
+her resentment against her faded.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you'd come, too, Millie, and help us choose," she said.  "You read
+so much, you know which are the nicest."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Millie, in a choked kind of voice.  "I'd love to."
+And then the doors opened, and they all trooped into their places.</p>
+
+<p>When they came out from the morning service each went home with her own
+people.  Patty, looking fragile and pale, was helped along by her father.
+Mona joined her father and grandmother.  She was quiet, and had very
+little to say.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you like your class?" asked granny.  She was a little puzzled by
+Mona's manner.  She had expected her to be full of excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I liked it very much," but she did not add anything more then.
+It was not until evening, when they were sitting together in the
+firelight, that she opened her heart on the subject.  "I wish I'd known
+our teacher all my life," she said, with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, dearie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;I don't know&mdash;gran&mdash;but she makes you see things, and she makes you
+feel so&mdash;so&mdash;well as if you do want to be good, and yet you feel you want
+to cry."</p>
+
+<p>"Try and tell me what she said," said granny.  "Perhaps 'twould help an
+old body, too."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona could not do that, nor could she put her feelings into words very
+well.  "I'll read to you instead, if you'd like me to, granny."</p>
+
+<p>When Millie Higgins had come out of church she had walked rapidly
+homewards by herself.  Patty and her father had gone on.  Mona was with
+her father and grandmother, and Millie felt that she could not face Mrs.
+Barnes just then.  She was fighting a big fight with herself, and she had
+not won yet.  But in the afternoon, when they came out of the school
+library, the two walked together.  They took Patty home, because she was
+too tired to do any more that day.  Then Mona and Millie hesitated,
+looking at each other.  "I must go home, too," said Mona.  "I thought I'd
+have been able to go for a walk, but it's too late.  Granny'll be
+expecting me."</p>
+
+<p>Millie looked at her without speaking, half turned to leave her,
+hesitated, and finally walked on at Mona's side.  She seemed nervous and
+embarrassed, but Mona did not notice it.  She did not realize anything of
+the struggle going on in Millie's mind.  She was too much occupied in
+glancing at the pictures in her book, and reading a sentence here and
+there.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm longing to begin it.  I think granny'll like it too."</p>
+
+<p>Millie did not answer, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
+When they reached the house Mona stood for a moment without opening the
+door.  She was somewhat troubled in her mind as to what to do.  She did
+not want to ask Millie in, yet she was afraid of hurting her feelings by
+not doing so.  Millie stood, and did not say good-bye.  Her cheeks were
+flushed, and she was evidently very nervous.</p>
+
+<p>"May I come in?" she asked at last.  "Yes, do come inside."  Mona was a
+little surprised at Millie's daring, and not too well pleased, but she
+tried to speak cordially.  Opening the door, she went in first.
+"Granny, here's Millie Higgins come to see you.  She's been to school with
+Patty and me, and we've walked back together!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barnes was sitting in her chair by the fire.  "Well, Millie," she
+said kindly.  "It's a long time since I've seen you.  Sit down."
+Whether she suspected the truth neither of the girls could make out.
+Millie grew even redder in the cheeks, and looked profoundly
+uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I've come to say&mdash;" she burst out in a jerky, nervous fashion,
+"I&mdash;I came here on Wednesday&mdash;when you were out, and I&mdash;behaved badly&mdash;"
+She hesitated, broke down, looked at the door as though she would have
+dashed out through it, had it only been open, then in one rush poured out
+the words that had been repeating and repeating themselves in her brain
+all that day.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very sorry I broke your beautiful set, Mrs. Barnes.  I'm&mdash;ever so
+sorry, I&mdash;don't know what to do about it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mona, guided by some sense of how she would have felt under the
+circumstances, had disappeared on the pretence of filling a kettle.
+She knew how much harder it is to make a confession if others are looking
+on and listening.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Mrs. Barnes, gravely, "was it you that broke my china?
+I didn't know."</p>
+
+<p>Millie stared with astonishment.  "Didn't&mdash;Mona tell you?" she gasped,
+quite taken aback.  She could scarcely believe her own ears.
+Granny Barnes shook her head.  "No, I didn't know but what she did it
+herself.  I believe little Patty did say that she didn't, but I was too
+upset to take in what was said.  My precious tea-set was broken, and it
+didn't seem to me to matter who did it."</p>
+
+<p>Millie was silent for a moment or so.  "Well, I did it," she said at last.
+"I threw a cushion at Mona, and it hit the china behind her!  I've felt
+dreadful about it ever since, and I&mdash;I didn't dare to come near you.
+I don't know what to do about it, Mrs. Barnes.  Can it be mended?" she
+added, colouring hotly again.  "I&mdash;I mean I've got some money in the bank.
+I'll gladly pay for it to be mended, if it can be."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Millie.  Perhaps one or two bits can&mdash;but nothing can ever
+make the set perfect again."  Mrs. Barnes' voice quavered, and tears came
+into her eyes.  "But I wouldn't let you pay for it.  We won't talk any
+more about it&mdash;I can't.  P'raps I set too much store by the things."
+She got up from her seat, and stood, leaning heavily on the table.
+"It's all right, Millie.  I'm very glad you came and told me you did it.
+Yes, I'm very glad of that.  Now we'll try and forget all about it."</p>
+
+<p>Millie burst into tears, and moved away towards the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay and have some tea with Mona and me," Granny urged, hospitably.
+"Don't run away, Millie."</p>
+
+<p>But Millie felt that she must go.  She wanted to be alone.  "I&mdash;I think
+I'd rather not&mdash;not now, thank you.  I'll come&mdash;another day, if you will
+ask me."  Then she hurried out, and up the hill, thankful that it was
+tea-time, and that nearly everyone was indoors.  She quickly turned off
+the main road into a little frequented narrow lane, and by way of that to
+the wide stretch of wild land which crowned the top of the hill.
+She wanted to be alone, and free, to fight out her battle alone.</p>
+
+<p>"If I'd known Mona hadn't told&mdash;"  The mean thought would try to take root
+in her mind, but she weeded it out and trampled on it.  In her heart she
+was profoundly impressed by Mona's conduct, and she was glad, devoutly
+glad, that she had not been less honourable and courageous.  She could
+face people now, and not feel a sneak or a coward.</p>
+
+<p>In all her life after Millie never forgot her walk on that sunny summer
+evening.  The charm and beauty, the singing of the birds, the scent of the
+furze and the heather, the peace of it, after the storms she had lived
+through lately, sank deep into her soul.</p>
+
+<p>Her wickedness of the past week had frightened her.  "I felt I didn't care
+what I did, I was so wild with Mona.  I wonder I didn't do more harm than
+I did.  And then Patty, poor little Patty.  I nearly drowned her!
+Oh-h-h!"  She buried her face and shuddered at the remembrance.
+"I knew she'd fall into the water if I pushed her, so it was as bad as
+being a murderer.  If she had died&mdash;and she nearly did&mdash;I should have been
+one, and I should have been in jail now, and&mdash;oh, I <i>will</i> try to be good,
+I <i>will</i> try to be better!"</p>
+
+<p>Long shadows were falling across the road as she went down the hill,
+on her homeward way.  The flowers in Lucy Carne's garden were giving out
+their evening scent.  Lucy, standing enjoying them, looked up as Millie
+came along, and nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't you like a flower to wear?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Millie paused.  "I'd love one," she said, looking in over the low stone
+wall.  "I never smell any so sweet as yours, Mrs. Carne."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy gathered her a spray of pink roses, and some white jessamine.
+"There," she said, "fasten those in your blouse.  Isn't the scent
+beautiful?  I don't think one could do anything bad, or think anything
+bad, with flowers like those under one's eyes and nose, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you?" questioned Millie, doubtfully.  "I don't believe anything
+would keep me good."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy looked at her in faint surprise.  It was not like Millie to speak
+with so much feeling.  "You don't expect me to believe that," she began,
+half laughing; then stopped, for there were still traces of tears about
+Millie's eyes, and a tremulousness about her lips, and Lucy knew that she
+was really in need of help.</p>
+
+<p>"I know that you've got more courage than most of us, Millie," she added
+gently.  "If you would only use it in the right way.  Perhaps my little
+flowers will remind you to."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope they will.  I wish they would," said Millie, fastening them in her
+coat.  "Goodbye."</p>
+
+<p>Before she reached her own home Millie saw her father out at the door
+looking for her.  As a rule, it made her angry to be watched for in this
+way, "Setting all the neighbours talking," as she put it.  But to-day her
+conscience really pricked her, and she was prepared to be amiable.
+Her father, though, was not prepared to be amiable.  He had got a
+headache, and he wanted his tea.  He had been wanting it for an hour and
+more.</p>
+
+<p>"Where have you been gallivanting all this time, I'd like to know.
+I'll be bound you've been a may-gaming somewhere as you didn't ought to on
+a Sunday, your dooty to me forgotten."</p>
+
+<p>To Millie this sounded unjust and cruel.  She had let her duties slip from
+her for a while, but she had been neither may-gaming nor wasting her time.
+Indeed, she had been in closer touch with better things and nobler aims
+than ever in her life before, and in her new mood her father's words
+jarred and hurt her.  An angry retort rose to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't been with anybody," she replied sharply.  "I've been for a walk
+by myself, that's all.  It's hard if I can't have a few minutes for myself
+sometimes."  But, in putting up her hand to remove her hat, she brushed
+her flowers roughly, and her angry words died away.  In return for a blow
+they gave out a breath of such sweetness that Millie could not but heed
+it.  "I&mdash;I was thinking, and I forgot about tea-time," she added in a
+gentler voice.  "But I won't be long getting it now, father."</p>
+
+<p>While the kettle was coming to the boil she laid the cloth and cut some
+bread and butter; then she went to the larder and brought out an apple
+pie.  With all her faults, Millie was a good cook, and looked after her
+father well.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her preparations approvingly, and his brow cleared.
+"You're a good maid, Millie," he said, as he helped the pie, while Millie
+poured out the tea.  "I'm sorry I spoke a bit rough just now.  I didn't
+really mean anything.  I was only a bit put out."</p>
+
+<p>Millie's heart glowed with pride and pleasure.  "That's all right,
+father," and then she added, almost shyly, "I&mdash;I'd no business to&mdash;to
+forget the time, and stay out so long."  It was the first time in her life
+she had admitted she was wrong when her father had been vexed with her and
+given her a scolding.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Lucy Carne knocked at Granny Barnes' door, and waited.  She had a little
+nosegay of flowers in her hand and a plate of fresh fish. Almost every day
+she brought granny something, even if it was only a simple flower, and
+granny loved her little 'surprises.'</p>
+
+<p>Lucy waited a moment, hearing a voice inside, then she knocked again, and
+louder.</p>
+
+<p>"I do believe Mona's reading to her again, and they've forgotten their
+tea!"</p>
+
+<p>Getting no answer even now, Lucy opened the door a little way and popped
+her head in.  "May I come in?  I don't know what world you two are living
+in to-day, but I knocked twice and I couldn't reach you."</p>
+
+<p>Mona carefully placed the marker in her book and closed it, but
+reluctantly.  Miss Lester, her Sunday School teacher, had given her the
+marker.  It was a strip of ribbon with fringed ends, and with her name
+painted on it, and a spray of white jessamine.  Every girl who had joined
+the library had had one.  Some were blue, some red, some white, and the
+rest orange colour.  Mona's was red.  She was glad, for she liked red, and
+the delicate white flower looked lovely on it, she thought.  Miss Lester
+had painted them herself, and the girls prized them beyond anything.</p>
+
+<p>Mona's eyes lingered on hers as she closed the book.  It was rather hard
+to have to leave her heroine just at that point, and set about getting
+tea.  She did wish Lucy had not come for another ten minutes.</p>
+
+<p>Granny looked up with a little rueful smile.  "I felt it was tea-time,"
+she said, "but I thought Mona would like to finish out the chapter, and
+then before we knew what we were doing we had begun another.  It's a
+pretty tale.  I wish you had been hearing it too, Lucy.  It's called
+'Queechy.'  A funny sort of a name, to my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"'Queechy'!&mdash;why, I read that years ago, and I've read it again since I've
+been married.  I borrowed it from mother when I was so ill that time.
+Mother had it given to her as a prize by her Bible-class teacher.
+She thinks the world of it.  So do I.  I love it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm longing to get to the end," said Mona, turning over the pages
+lingeringly.  "There's only three chapters more."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, that's enough for another reading or two," said Granny.
+"They are long chapters.  It would be a pity to hurry over them just for
+the sake of reaching the end.  We'll have a nice time to-morrow, dearie.
+I shall be sorry when it's all done."</p>
+
+<p>But Mona was impatient.  "To-morrow!  Nobody knows what may happen before
+to-morrow.  Something is sure to come along and prevent anybody's doing
+what they want to do," she said crossly.</p>
+
+<p>Granny looked at her with grieved eyes.  "I think you generally manage to
+do what you want to, Mona," she said, gravely.  "I don't think you can
+have profited much by what you've read," she added, and turned to Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>Mona laid down her book with a sigh.  "It's much easier to read about
+being good than to be good oneself," she thought.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy came in from the scullery with a vase full of water.  "I'll have a
+few nice flowers for you to take to Miss Lester on Sunday, Mona, if you'll
+come and fetch them."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Mona, but she looked and spoke glumly.  She was still
+vexed with Lucy for coming in and interrupting them.  She did not know
+that Lucy came in at meal-times just to make sure that granny had her
+meals, for Mona thought nothing of being an hour late with them if she was
+occupied in some other way.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't trouble about it, if you don't care to have them," Lucy added
+quietly.  And Mona felt reproved.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to," she said, looking ashamed of herself.  "Miss Lester loves
+having flowers.  I'll run up on Saturday evening for them, mother.
+They'll be better for being in water all night."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right.  Now, I'll cook the fish while you lay the cloth. Granny'll
+be fainting if we don't give her something to eat and drink soon.  I
+should have been down before, but I had to see father off."</p>
+
+<p>"Will he be out all night?" Granny asked, anxiously.  She never got over
+her dread of the sea at night.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes.  If they get much of a catch they'll take it in to Baymouth to land.
+The 'buyers' will be there to-morrow.  I'm hoping Peter'll be back in the
+afternoon.  These are fine whiting.  You like whiting, don't you, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, very much.  It's kind of you to bring them.  I feel now how badly I
+was wanting my tea.  You'll have some with us?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I will.  I was so busy getting Peter off that I didn't have
+anything myself."</p>
+
+<p>Mona laid the cloth with extra care.  Lucy's vase of stocks stood at one
+corner.  Though it was August, the wind was cold, and the little bit of
+fire in the grate made the kitchen very pleasant and cosy.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got a bit of news for you, Mona," said Lucy, coming back from
+putting away the frying-pan.  "Mrs. Luxmore told me that Miss Lester is
+engaged.  Had you heard it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no!  What, my Miss Lester?  Miss Grace?"  Mona was intensely
+interested.  "Oh, I am so glad.  Who is she engaged to, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Dr. Edwards!  Isn't it nice!  Doesn't it seem just right?" Lucy was
+almost as excited as Mona.  "I am so glad she isn't going to marry a
+stranger, and leave Seacombe."</p>
+
+<p>"Can it be true! really true?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's true enough.  Mrs. Luxmore told me.  Her husband works two days a
+week at Mrs. Lester's, and Mrs. Lester told him her very own self. So it
+must be true, mustn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona's thoughts had already flown to the wedding.  "We girls in Miss
+Grace's class ought to give her a wedding present.  What would be a nice
+thing to give her?  And, oh, mother!"  Mona clapped her hands in a fresh
+burst of excitement.  "I wonder if she will let us all go to the wedding
+and strew roses in her path as she comes out of the church&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It'll depend a good deal on what time of the year the wedding is to be,"
+remarked granny, drily.  But Mona's mind was already picturing the scene.</p>
+
+<p>"We ought all to be dressed in white, with white shoes and stockings, and
+gloves, and some should wear pink round their waists and in their hats,
+and the rest should have blue, and those that wear pink should throw white
+roses, and those that wear blue should throw pink roses. Wouldn't it look
+sweet?  I'd rather wear blue, because I've got a blue sash."</p>
+
+<p>A door banged upstairs, and made them all jump.  "Why, how the wind is
+rising!" said Lucy, in a frightened voice.  She hurried to the window and
+looked out anxiously.  "Oh, dear! and I was hoping it was going to be
+pretty still to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"What I'd give if Peter was a ploughman, or a carpenter!" cried granny,
+almost irritably.  "I don't know how you can bear it, Lucy, always to have
+the fear of the sea dogging you day and night!" Her own face had grown
+quite white.</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't bear it," said Lucy quietly, "if I didn't feel that wherever
+he is God's hand is over him just the same."  She came back and stood by
+the fire, gazing with wistful eyes into its glowing heart.</p>
+
+<p>"But sailors and fishermen do get drowned," urged Mona, putting her fears
+into words in the hope of getting comfort.</p>
+
+<p>"And ploughmen and carpenters meet with their deaths, too.  We've got our
+work to do, and we can't all choose the safest jobs.  Some must take the
+risks.  And no matter what our work is, death'll come to us all one day.
+Some of us who sit at home, die a hundred deaths thinking of those
+belonging to us and the risks they are facing."</p>
+
+<p>Then, seeing that granny was really nervous, Lucy led the talk to other
+things, though, in that little place, with nothing to break the force of
+the wind, or deaden the noise of the waves, it was not easy to get one's
+mind away from either.  "I don't suppose it is very bad, really," said
+Lucy, comfortingly.  "It always sounds a lot here, but the men laugh at me
+when I talk of 'the gale' blowing.  'You must wait till you hear the real
+thing,' they say.  But I tell them I have heard the real thing, and it
+began quietly enough.  Now, Mona, you and I will put away the tea things,
+shall we?"</p>
+
+<p>"You won't go home before you really need to, will you?" asked granny.
+"It'll be a long and wearying time you'll have alone there, waiting for
+morning.  Oh, I wish it was morning now," she added, almost passionately,
+"and the night over, and the storm.  I do long for rest."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy looked at her anxiously, surprised by the feeling in her voice. "Why,
+mother! you mustn't worry yourself like that.  It's nothing of a wind yet,
+and it may die down again quite soon.  I think it was a mistake letting
+you come to live on this side of the road, where you feel the wind so much
+more.  If I were you I'd move up nearer to us the first time there's a
+place to let.  You feel just as I do about the storms, and it's only those
+that do who understand how hard it is to bear."</p>
+
+<p>Granny nodded, but she did not answer.  She turned to Mona. "Wouldn't you
+like to go for a run before bedtime?" she asked. "The air'll do you good,
+and help you to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't want her to get nervous just before bedtime," she confided to
+Lucy when Mona had gone.  "I try not to let her see how nervous I get&mdash;but
+sometimes one can't help but show it."</p>
+
+<p>Mona did not need any urging.  Her thoughts were full of Miss Lester's
+coming marriage and her own plans for it, and ever since she had heard the
+news she had been longing to go out and spread it and talk it over.</p>
+
+<p>"Patty ought to wear blue, to match her eyes; Millie will be sure to
+choose pink, she has had such a fancy for pink ever since she had that
+print frock."</p>
+
+<p>But when she reached the Quay she met with disappointment.  There was
+hardly anyone there but some boys playing 'Prisoners.'  Certainly it was
+not very tempting there that evening, the wind was cold and blustery, and
+both sea and sky were grey and depressing.  Mona was glad to come away
+into the shelter of the street.</p>
+
+<p>She looked about her for someone to talk to, but, seeing no one, she made
+her way home again.  It was very aggravating having to keep her great
+ideas bottled up till morning, but it could not be helped. When she
+reached home again, Lucy was still there, but she had her hat on ready to
+start.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you hadn't to go," said Granny Barnes, wistfully.  "I wish you
+could stay here the night."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy looked at her anxiously.  "Are you feeling very nervous, mother?
+Would you rather I stayed?  I will if you wish."</p>
+
+<p>"No,&mdash;oh, no," granny protested, though she would have liked it above all
+things.  "I wasn't thinking about myself; I was thinking about you, up
+there all alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I shall be all right.  I am getting used to it.  Now you go to bed
+early, and try to go to sleep, then you won't notice the weather. You are
+looking dreadfully tired.  Good night&mdash;good night, Mona."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll do as Lucy said," said granny a little while later. "I'm
+feeling tireder than ever in my life before.  If I was in bed now this
+minute, I believe I could sleep.  If I once got off I feel as if I could
+sleep for ever."  And by half-past eight the house was shut up, and they
+had gone to bed.</p>
+
+<p>Granny, at least, had gone to bed, and had fallen almost at once into a
+heavy slumber.  Mona was more wakeful.  The news of her teacher's
+engagement had excited her, and not having been able to talk it out, her
+brain was seething with ideas.</p>
+
+<p>She put out her candle, drew back her curtains, and looked out into the
+gathering darkness.  An air of gloom and loneliness reigned over
+everything.  Far out she could see white caps on the waves, but not a
+boat, or vessel of any kind.  The sky looked full and lowering.</p>
+
+<p>With a little shiver Mona drew her curtains again and relighted her
+candle.  As it flickered and burnt up, her eyes fell on the book so
+reluctantly put aside until to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wish I could have just a little read," she thought, longingly.
+"Just a look to see what happens next."</p>
+
+<p>She took up the book and opened it, glancing over the chapters she had
+read&mdash;then she turned to the one she and granny were going to read
+to-morrow.  Her eyes travelled greedily over a few paragraphs, then she
+turned the page.  Presently she grew tired of standing, and sat on the
+side of the bed, lost to everything but the pages she was devouring
+hungrily.  The wind blew her curtains about, the rain drove against the
+panes, but Mona did not heed either.  She had drawn herself up on the bed
+by that time and, leaning up against her pillows, was reading comfortably
+by the light of the candle close beside her.  She was miles away from her
+real surroundings, and driving with Fleda in England, and no other world
+existed for her.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyelids growing heavy, she closed them for a moment.  She didn't know
+that she had closed them, and imagined she was still reading. She was very
+surprised, though, presently, to find that what she thought she had been
+reading was not on the open pages before her. She rubbed her tiresomely
+heavy lids and looked again; then she raised herself on her elbow and
+began again at the top of the mysterious page, and all went well for a
+paragraph or two.  Fleda was walking now alone, through a grassy glade.
+Oh, how lovely it was&mdash;but what a long walk to be taking in such a high
+wind.  Mona forced open one eye, and let the other rest a moment.  "The
+trees sometimes swept back, leaving an opening, and at other places,"
+stretched&mdash;stretched, yes it was, "stretched their branches over,"&mdash;over
+&mdash;but how the wind roared in the trees, and what a pity that someone
+should have had a bonfire just there, the smell was suffocating&mdash;and the
+heat!  How could she bear it!  And, oh, dear!  How dazzling the sun was&mdash;
+or the bonfire; the whole wood would be on fire if they did not take care!
+Oh, the suffocating smoke!</p>
+
+<p>Mona&mdash;or was she Fleda?&mdash;gasped and panted.  If relief did&mdash;not&mdash;come
+soon&mdash;she could not draw&mdash;another breath.  She felt she was paralysed&mdash;
+helpless&mdash;dying&mdash;and the wind&mdash;so much&mdash;air&mdash;somewhere&mdash;she was trying
+to say, when suddenly, from very, very far away she heard her own name
+being called.  It sounded like 'Mona'&mdash;not Fleda&mdash;and&mdash;yet, somehow she
+knew that it was she who was meant.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;what&mdash;do they&mdash;want!" she  thought wearily.  "I can't go. I'm&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mona! Mona!"  She heard it again; her own name, and called frantically,
+and someone was shaking her, and saying something about a fire, and then
+she seemed to be dragged up bodily and carried away. "Oh, what rest! and
+how nice to be out of that awful heat&mdash;she would have&mdash;died&mdash;if&mdash;if&mdash;"
+Then she felt the cold air blowing on her face, the dreadful dragging pain
+in her chest was gone, she could breathe! She opened her eyes and looked
+about her&mdash;and for the first time was sure that she was dreaming.</p>
+
+<p>The other was real enough, but this could only be a dream, for she was
+lying on the pavement in the street, in the middle of the night, with
+people standing all about staring down at her.  They were people she knew,
+she thought, yet they all looked so funny.  Someone was kneeling beside
+her, but in a strange red glow which seemed to light up the darkness, she
+could not recognise the face.  Her eyelids fell, in spite of herself, but
+she managed to open them again very soon, and this time she saw the black
+sky high above her; rain fell on her face.  The red glow went up and down;
+sometimes it was brilliant, sometimes it almost disappeared, and all the
+time there was a strange crackling, hissing noise going on, and a horrible
+smell.</p>
+
+<p>By degrees she felt a little less dazed and helpless.  She tried to put
+out her hands to raise herself, but she could not move them. They were
+fastened to her sides.  She saw then that she was wrapped in a blanket.
+
+"What&mdash;ever&mdash;has happened!" she asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"There has been an accident&mdash;a fire.  Your house is on fire&mdash;didn't you
+know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fire!&mdash;our house&mdash;on fire!"  Mona sat upright, and looked about her in a
+bewildered way.  Could it be that she was having those dreadful things
+said to her.  She had often wondered how people felt, what they thought&mdash;
+what they did, when they had suddenly to face so dreadful a thing.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's granny?" she asked abruptly&mdash;almost violently.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence.  Then Patty Row's mother said in a
+breathless, hesitating way, "Nobody&mdash;no one knows yet, Mona. Nor how the
+house was set on fire," she added, hastily, as though anxious to give Mona
+something else to think of.  "Some say the wind must have blown down the
+kitchen chimney and scattered some red-hot coals about the floor."</p>
+
+<p>"But 'twas the top part of the house that was burning first along," broke
+in old Tom Harris.  "Mrs. Carne saw smoke and fire coming through the
+bedroom windows and the roof."
+
+"The top part!&mdash;where granny was sleeping!"  Mona threw open the blanket
+and struggled to her feet.  "Oh, do stop talking, and tell me&mdash;hasn't
+anyone found granny?"  Her question ended almost in a scream.</p>
+
+<p>"They&mdash;they're getting her&mdash;&mdash;" said somebody.  The rest preserved an
+ominous silence.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a chain of men handing up buckets of water through the back
+garden," said someone else, as though trying to distract her thoughts.
+"They'll soon get the fiercest of the fire down."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but think of granny.  We can't wait for that.  She's in the fire all
+this time.  She was in bed.  Hasn't anyone been to her? Oh, they must
+have.  They can't have left her&mdash;an old woman&mdash;to save herself!"</p>
+
+<p>Mona was beside herself with the horror of the thing.</p>
+
+<p>"They tried," said Mrs. Row, gently, "but they were beaten back.
+Mrs. Carne tried until she was&mdash;There!  She's gone&mdash;Mona's gone!"
+Her explanation ended in a scream.  "Oh, stop her&mdash;somebody, do, she'll be
+killed."</p>
+
+<p>"It'd have been sensibler to have told her the truth at once," said Tom
+Harris, impatiently.  "She's got to know, poor maid.  Now we shall have
+another life thrown away, more than likely, and Mrs. Carne with a broken
+leg, and nobody knows what other damage."</p>
+
+<p>Slipping through the crowd in the darkness, Mona, in a perfect frenzy of
+fear, dashed into the house.  All she was conscious of was hot anger
+against all those who stood about talking and looking on and doing
+nothing, while granny lay helpless in her bed suffocating, perhaps
+burning; were they mad!&mdash;did they want granny to die?&mdash;didn't they care,
+that no one made any attempt to save her.  Through the semi-darkness, the
+haze of smoke and steam, she heard people, and voices, but she could not
+see anyone.  The heat was fearful, and the smell of burning made her feel
+sick.</p>
+
+<p>She groped her way stumblingly through the kitchen.  The furniture seemed
+to her to be scattered about as though on purpose to hinder her, but she
+kept along by the dressers as well as she could. They would be a guide,
+she thought.  "Poor tea-set!  There will be little of it left now."
+Her fingers touched something soft. Lucy's stocks, still in the vase.
+At last she found herself at the foot of the staircase.  The door was
+closed.  Someone had wisely shut it to check the rush of air up it.
+After a struggle, Mona managed to open it again, and fell back before the
+overpowering heat and the smoke which choked and blinded her.  She clapped
+her hand over her nose and mouth, and crouching down, dragged herself a
+little way up, lying almost flat on her face, she was so desperate now
+with the horror of it all, beside herself.  Ahead of her was what looked
+like a blazing furnace.  All around her was an awful roaring, the noise of
+burning, broken into every now and again by a crash, after which the red
+light blazed out brighter, and the roaring redoubled.</p>
+
+<p>How could anyone live in such a furnace.  An awful cry of despair broke
+from her parched throat.  "Granny!" she screamed.  "Oh, granny! Where are
+you?  I can't reach&mdash;"  Another crash, and a blazing beam fell across the
+head of the burning staircase.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny! Oh, God save my&mdash;&mdash;"  But before she could finish she was seized
+by strong arms and lifted up, and then darkness fell on her brain, and she
+knew no more.</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0013"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When poor Lucy Carne next opened her eyes and came back with a sigh to the
+horrors and suffering of which she had for a time been mercifully
+unconscious, her first thought was for her husband.</p>
+
+<p>"Has the boat come in?  Did the storm die down?&mdash;or did it get worse?
+Has anyone heard or seen anything of my husband?"  She panted feebly.
+But before they could answer her, she had floated off again into a
+troubled delirium.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the wind!  Oh, the awful wind!" she kept on repeating.  "Oh, can't
+anything stop it!  It's fanning the flames to fury; it's blowing them
+towards granny's room.  Oh, the noise&mdash;I must find her&mdash;I must save her&mdash;
+she's so feeble.  Oh, granny! Granny!"  Her voice would end in a scream,
+followed by a burst of tears; then she would begin again.</p>
+
+<p>Once or twice she had recovered consciousness, and then had asked for her
+husband or Mona.  "Is she badly hurt?&mdash;will she get over it?"</p>
+
+<p>The nurse soothed and comforted her, and did all she could.  "She isn't
+conscious yet, but they think she will be soon.  She's got slight
+concussion, and she has cut herself a bit&mdash;but she will do all right if
+she gets over the shock.  They are keeping her very quiet; it is the only
+way.  You must try not to scream and call out, dear.  For if she began to
+come round and heard you, it might be very, very serious for her."</p>
+
+<p>After that Lucy lay trying hard to keep fast hold of her senses.
+"Don't let me scream!" she pleaded.  "Put something over my head if I
+begin.  I can keep myself quiet as long as I have my senses&mdash;but when they
+drift away&mdash;I&mdash;don't know what I do.  I didn't know I made a noise.
+Oh&mdash;h&mdash;h!" as some slight movement racked her with pain.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor dear," said Nurse.  "I expect you're feeling your bruises now, and
+your leg."</p>
+
+<p>"I seem to be one big lump of pain," sighed poor Lucy.  "But I don't mind
+if only Mona pulls through, and Peter is safe.  Oh, my poor husband&mdash;what
+a home-coming!"</p>
+
+<p>"Now try not to dwell on it.  You'll only get yourself worse, and for his
+sake, poor man, you ought to try and get well as fast as you can.
+There, look at those flowers Patty Row has brought you.  Aren't they
+sweet!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my!" Lucy drew in deep breaths of their fragrance.  "Stocks, and
+sweet-brier&mdash;oh, how lovely!  They'll help to take away the&mdash;smell of the
+burning."  Then her mind seemed to float away again, but not this time
+through a raging furnace, but through sweet-scented gardens, and sunlight,
+and soft pure air.</p>
+
+<p>When she came back to the hospital ward again, Nurse smiled at her with
+eyes full of pleasure.  "I've good news for you," she said, bending low,
+so that her words might quite reach the poor dazed brain.  "Your husband
+is safe!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank God!  Thank God!"  Her eyes swam in tears of joy.  "Does&mdash;he
+know?" she asked a moment later, her face full of anxiety.  The thought of
+his sad home-coming was anguish to her.</p>
+
+<p>Nurse nodded.  "Yes, dear, he knows.  The Vicar went to Baymouth by the
+first train and brought him back.  He did not want him to have the news
+blurted out to him without any preparation."</p>
+
+<p>"How very kind!  How is he?  Peter, I mean.  Is he feeling it very badly?
+Oh, I wish I could be there to help him, to comfort him.  He'll be so
+lonely&mdash;and there will be so much to do."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, he won't want for help.  Everyone is ready and anxious to do
+what they can.  Of course, he is upset.  He wouldn't be the man he is if
+he wasn't.  It is all a terrible shock to him!  But it might have been so
+much worse.  He is so thankful that you and Mona are safe.  He doesn't
+give a single thought to himself."</p>
+
+<p>"He never does," said Lucy, half-smiling, half-weeping.  "That's why he
+needs me to take thought of him.  When may I see him, Nurse?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's what he is asking.  If you keep very quiet now, and have a nice
+sleep, perhaps you'll be strong enough for just a peep at him when you
+wake up."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll lie still, and be very quiet, but I can't promise to sleep."
+She did sleep, though, in spite of herself, for when next she turned her
+head to see if the hands of the clock had moved at all, she found her
+husband sitting beside her, smiling at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, however did you get here, dear?  I never saw you come&mdash;nor heard a
+sound."</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon I must have growed up out of the floor," said Peter, bending to
+kiss her.  "Well, my girl, this isn't where I expected to see 'ee when I
+came back&mdash;but I'm so thankful to find you at all, I can't think of
+anything else."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you've come," she cried, clinging to him
+passionately.  "I never thought we should meet again in this world.
+Oh! Peter&mdash;what we've been through!  Oh! That night!  That awful night!"</p>
+
+<p>He patted her soothingly, holding her hand in his.  "I know, I know&mdash;but
+you must try not to dwell on it.  If you throw yourself back, I shan't be
+allowed to come again."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy put a great restraint upon herself.  "They've told you:&mdash;poor granny
+is dead?" she whispered, but more calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;they've told me.  I believe I know the worst now.  I've one bit of
+comfort, though, for all of us.  I've just seen the doctor, and he says
+she was dead before the fire reached her.  She must have died almost as
+soon as she lay down."</p>
+
+<p>Then Lucy broke down and wept from sheer relief.  "Oh, thank God," she
+said, fervently, "for taking her to Himself, and sparing her the horrors
+of that awful night.  Thank Him, too, for Mona's sake.  The thought that
+granny perished in the fire because no one reached her in time would have
+been the worst of all the thoughts weighing on her mind.  She will be
+spared that now."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment, though, Mona was troubled by no thoughts at all.  She lay
+in her bed in the ward just as they had placed her there hours before,
+absolutely unconscious.  If it had not been for the faint beating of her
+heart she might have been taken for dead.  Doctors came and looked at her
+and went away again, the day nurses went off duty, and the night nurses
+came on and went off again, but still she showed no sign of life.
+With her head and her arms swathed in bandages, she lay with her eyes
+closed, her lips slightly parted.  It was not until the following day, the
+day Granny Barnes was laid to rest in the little churchyard on the hill,
+that she opened her eyes on this world once more, and glanced about her,
+dazed and bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"Where?" she began.  But before she had finished her sentence, her eyes
+closed.</p>
+
+<p>This time, though, it was not unconsciousness, but sleep that she drifted
+off into, and it was not until afternoon that she opened her eyes once
+more.</p>
+
+<p>"Where am I?"  She completed her question this time.  Then, at the sight
+of a nurse in uniform, a look of alarm crept into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you, dear?  Why, here in hospital, being taken care of, and
+your mother is here, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and we are looking after you so well!  You are both better already."</p>
+
+<p>The cheerful voice and smile, the kindly face, drove all Mona's fears away
+at once, and for ever.  But, as memory returned, other fears took their
+place.</p>
+
+<p>"Is&mdash;mother&mdash;hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but, oh, not nearly as badly as she might have been.  She will be
+well again soon.  You shall go into the ward with her when you are a
+little better.  You must keep very quiet now, and not talk."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;granny&mdash;and father?" faltered Mona.  "I <i>must</i> know&mdash;I can't rest&mdash;
+till&mdash;I do."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the Nurse hesitated.  It was very difficult to know what to
+do for the best.  "She will only fret and worry if I don't tell her,
+and imagine things worse than they are," she thought to herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Your father is home, and safe and well.  You shall see him soon.
+Your poor granny is safe, too, dear, and well.  So well, she will never
+suffer any more."</p>
+
+<p>"They&mdash;let her&mdash;die&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No one let her die, dear.  She had died in her sleep before the fire
+broke out.  She was mercifully spared that&mdash;and isn't that something to be
+thankful for, Mona?  There, there, don't cry, dear.  You mustn't cry, or
+you will be ill again, and, for your father's and mother's sake, you must
+try and get well.  Your father wants you home to take care of him until
+your mother can come.  Think of him, dear, and how badly he needs you, and
+try your best to get better.  He is longing to come to see you."</p>
+
+<p>Mercifully for Mona, she was too weak to weep much, or even to think,
+and before very long she had sunk into an exhausted sleep.
+Mercifully, too, perhaps, in the horror of her awakening, that terrible
+night, and the distracting hours that followed, it never entered her head
+that it was she who had brought about the disaster.  It was not till later
+that that dreadful truth came home to her, to be repented of through years
+of bitter regret.</p>
+
+<p>The next day her father came to see her, and a few days after that she was
+carried into the adjoining ward and put into the bed next to her mother.</p>
+
+<p>That was a great step forward.  For the first time a ray of sunshine
+penetrated the heavy cloud of sorrow which had overshadowed them all.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep them both as cheerful as possible," the doctor had said, "and don't
+let them dwell on the tragedy if you can help it."  So every day a visitor
+came to see them&mdash;Miss Grace Lester, Mrs. Row, and Patty, Millie Higgins,
+and Philippa&mdash;and as they all brought flowers and fruit, the little ward
+became a perfect garden, gay with bright colours and sweet scents.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grace brought a book for Mona, and a soft, warm shawl for Lucy.
+They were delighted.  "And please, Miss," said Lucy, "may I give you my
+best wishes for your happiness?  We heard you were going to be married
+before so very long."</p>
+
+<p>Grace Lester blushed prettily.  "Yes, but not till next spring," she said.
+"Thank you for your good wishes, Mrs. Carne.  It was very sweet of you to
+remember me through all the troubles you have been through lately.
+I am so glad my new home will be in Seacombe, where I know and love
+everyone.  I should have been very grieved if I had had to leave it.
+Mona, what are you thinking about, to make you look so excited?  You know
+the doctor ordered you to keep calm!  I don't know what he would say if he
+saw you now.  He would blame me for exciting you, and I should never be
+allowed to come again."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Miss Grace, I am calm&mdash;I really am.  I won't be excited, I won't be
+ill, but, oh, I must tell you&mdash;I thought of something as soon as ever I
+heard there was to be a wedding&mdash;and oh, I wish you would&mdash;I am sure it
+would be lovely.  We want&mdash;all your Sunday School girls, I mean, Miss
+Grace&mdash;to be allowed to come and strew flowers in your path as you come
+out of church, and we'd all be dressed in white, and&mdash;and some would have
+pink, and some blue in their hats, and&mdash;Oh, Miss Grace, do please think
+about it and try and say 'Yes!'"</p>
+
+<p>Grace Lester's eyes were misty with happy tears by the time Mona had done.
+"Why, you nice, kind children," she cried, "to have such plans for making
+my wedding day beautiful and happy! I had not thought of anything so
+charming."</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments she sat silent, thinking deeply, and Mona lay back on
+her pillow watching her face.  "Would she consent&mdash;Oh, would she?
+It would almost be too lovely, though," she concluded.  "It could not
+really come true."</p>
+
+<p>"Mona," said Miss Grace at last.  "Do you know what I thought you might be
+going to ask?"</p>
+
+<p>Mona shook her head, her eyes were full of questioning.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought, perhaps, you were going to ask if you might come and be my
+little housemaid in my new home!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;h&mdash;h!"  Mona and her mother both exclaimed aloud and in the same tone
+of delight.  "Oh, Miss Grace!"  Mona sprang up in her bed and clapped her
+hands, bandages and all.  "Oh, Miss Grace! do you really mean it?
+That would be better than anything, because that would be for always.
+Oh, mother," turning to Lucy, her face radiant, "wouldn't that be lovely!"</p>
+
+<p>"Lovely," said Lucy, her eyes full of deep pleasure.  "I wouldn't ask for
+anything better for you, Mona.  I think&mdash;I know, it'll be the best that
+can possibly happen."</p>
+
+<p>"How very nice of you, Mrs. Carne."  Grace Lester pressed Lucy's hand.
+"You make me feel&mdash;very, very proud&mdash;but&mdash;well, I will try to do my best
+for her.  Good-bye.  I must not stay any longer now, or Nurse will be
+coming to scold me, but," with a smile, "I must just stay long enough to
+say I engage Mona now to come to me in April.  We will talk about wages
+and uniform, and all those things later on, when you are both stronger,
+and I have had time to think.  Now, good-bye&mdash;and Mona, don't keep your
+mother awake, or I shall be in everyone's bad books."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm as excited as she is, I think," said Lucy, smiling up at Mona's
+future mistress, "and it will be a real pleasure to me to teach her and
+get her as ready as I can&mdash;and I can't tell you, Miss, how pleased her
+father'll be that she is going where she will be so happy and well looked
+after."</p>
+
+<p>Grace Lester clasped Lucy's hand again.  "It will be a great pleasure to
+me to have her," she said warmly, "and, trained by you, I know she will be
+a comfort to any mistress."</p>
+
+<p>With this new interest to lift her thoughts from her troubles, Mona
+regained health so rapidly that she was able to leave the hospital sooner
+than anyone had dared to hope.  Poor Lucy, who had to stay there some
+weeks longer, watched her departure with tearful eyes.  "I shall feel
+lonely without you, dear," she said, "but for your own sake, and father's,
+I am glad you are going home.  You will look after him, won't you, and see
+to his comforts&mdash;and I'll be back in about three weeks, they say, though
+I'll have to go about on crutches for a bit."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I'll look after father.  Don't you worry, mother, I'll see to
+things," Mona reassured her.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect you will find the house in a pretty mess, and the garden too.
+When I ran out that night, I little thought I wouldn't be back for nigh on
+two months.  It's a lesson to one to be always prepared."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you worry, mother, we'll soon get it all straight again.  I am sure
+your place was tidier than any other in Seacombe would be, left in a hurry
+like that, and in the middle of the night."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Mona, you mustn't do too much."  Lucy's anxieties took a new
+direction.  She knew how Mona could, and would work, when she was in the
+mood to.  "Don't be doing too much and making yourself ill.  That would
+trouble me ever so much more than having the house untidy.  You leave it
+all till I come home.  When I am able to move about again I'll soon get
+things nice."</p>
+
+<p>Mona nodded, with a laugh in her eyes.  "Why, of course, everything will
+be scrubbed inside and out, top and bottom, when you get home to do it,
+mother."  But in her mind she added, "if you can find anything needing
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Then she kissed her 'good-bye,' promising to come again soon.  "And I'll
+take her a few flowers out of her own garden," she thought.  "She will
+love that better than anything.  But I expect the garden has run wild by
+this time."</p>
+
+<p>She did not say as much to her mother, for she had learnt how much such
+thoughts worried her; but she did to her father when he came to fetch her.
+He only smiled though.  "You wait till you see it, my girl," he said
+mysteriously, "then you'll know how things have gone since you have been
+away."</p>
+
+<p>"There!" triumphantly, when they presently drew up at the gate.
+"Do you say now that a poor lone man can't keep his place tidy while his
+women-folk are away!" and Mona stared, wide-eyed with surprise, for,
+instead of bushes all beaten down and tangled, weedy paths, and stripped
+flower beds, as she had pictured, the whole garden seemed full.
+Geraniums, phlox, mignonette, roses, snapdragons, and pansies made the
+beds gay, while at the back of them great bushes of Michaelmas daisies and
+chrysanthemums stood erect, neatly tied up to stakes.</p>
+
+<p>"But how?&mdash;who&mdash;whenever did you find time, father?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've never put a hand to it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it must have been the fairies," she laughed.  "Flowers may grow by
+themselves, but paths can't pull up their own weeds&mdash;I wish they could&mdash;
+nor bushes tie themselves up to stakes."</p>
+
+<p>Her father laughed too.  "Well, never having seen a fairy, I can't
+contradict.  But I'm bound to say that Matthew Luxmore was never my idea
+of one."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Luxmore?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he's come two and three times a week, all the time your mother's
+been in hospital, and tended the garden the same as if it had been his
+own.  Don't you call that acting the real Christian?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do.  Oh, father, I wish mother could see it.  Wouldn't it make her
+happy."  Mona was touched almost to tears.  "And doesn't it make you want
+to do something nice for people in return!  But everybody has been so kind
+I don't know where to begin."</p>
+
+<p>"The only way to begin," said Peter Carne, as he led Mona slowly up the
+path, "is to take the first oppertoonity that comes along of doing a
+kindness to one of them, and to keep on taking all the oppertoonities you
+can.  I know that the folks that have been good to us would be cut to the
+heart if we were to talk about returns.  You can't return such things as
+they've done for us.  You can only let them know how grateful you are.
+And if a chance comes of doing anything for them&mdash;why, do it.  Now, you
+come along in, my girl, and sit down.  You've done enough for one while.
+You've got to sit there and rest while I make you a cup of tea.
+That's right, the fire's just proper for making a nice bit of toast."</p>
+
+<p>Mona sank down in the arm-chair, and stared about her in speechless
+surprise.  "Why, it's like a palace!  I came home meaning to clean it from
+top to bottom, and there's nothing for me to do.  Has Mr. Luxmore been
+acting the fairy here too, father!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, the fairies in this department were a smaller sort, and more like my
+idea of fairies.  It's Millie Higgins and Patty that have set this all to
+rights for you.  They came and begged of me to let them, till I couldn't
+refuse any longer.  Patty's mother has cooked for me and looked after me
+all the time.  There never was such folk as Seacombe folk I'm certain
+sure.  There, there's a nice bit of toast for you, child, and the kettle
+just going to boil right out over our shining fender.  We'll have a cup of
+tea in a brace of shakes now.  Then you will feel like a new woman."</p>
+
+<p>"I do that already," said Mona.  "I mean," she added softly, "I am going to
+try to be, father."</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="2HCH0014"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<br><br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3>
+
+
+<p>More than six months have passed away, and spring has come.
+Lucy Carne, strong and well again, is able to walk without even a trace of
+a limp.  Mona has grown an inch or two, has put up her hair, and
+lengthened her skirts.</p>
+
+<p>"You see I must learn to do it nicely by the time Miss Grace wants me,"
+she explained, when, on Christmas day, she appeared for the first time
+with it coiled about her head.  And, for a few weeks after, knew no peace
+of mind.  "I shall never keep it up," she sighed, "unless I take a hammer
+and nails and fix it to my head that way."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy complained that she spent a fortune in hairpins, and her father said
+he could always trace where Mona had been by the hairpins strewing the
+place.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and she had been busy since the New Year came in making her uniform,
+blue print frocks, and large white linen aprons for the mornings, and a
+brown cloth dress and muslin aprons for the afternoons.  She was to have
+muslin caps too, and white collars and cuffs.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think black is really more serviceable than any other colour,"
+Miss Lester had said when she came to talk to Lucy about Mona, "and I
+think I would like to have something new.  So I want my servants to wear
+a pretty warm brown."</p>
+
+<p>Mona was enraptured.  The idea of wearing a uniform was delightful enough,
+but to have one unlike what other servants wore was doubly attractive.
+And when, on top of that, Miss Grace had said she had been thinking a
+great deal about Mona's pretty suggestion for her wedding day, and would
+be very happy indeed if her Bible-class girls would carry it out, Mona
+thought that life was almost too full of happiness.  "I'm afraid I shall
+wake up and find it's all a dream," she said pathetically.  "Mother, I'm
+not dreaming, am I?"</p>
+
+<p>"And I would like to give you all the muslin to make your dresses of,"
+added Miss Grace.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy looked at her gratefully.  "It's too good of you, Miss, and you with
+so much else to think about, and such a lot to get.  I don't know how to
+thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then don't try," said Miss Grace.  "I understand.  I shall leave it to
+you," turning smilingly to Mona, "to provide the flowers you are going to
+throw."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we are all doing our best to get plenty of those," said Lucy.
+"There's a proper rivalry all through Seacombe, trying which of us can get
+the best.  There won't be any out-door roses, but we've all got bushes in
+our windows."</p>
+
+<p>Seacombe folk that spring tried to outdo each other in their cleaning,
+too.  As soon as the March winds died down, and the days grew light and
+fine such a fury of whitewashing and painting, scrubbing and polishing set
+in, as had never been known in Seacombe before.  By the middle of April
+there was not a whitewashing brush left, nor a yard of net for curtains.</p>
+
+<p>"It dazzles one to walk up the street when the sun shines," Dr. Edwards
+complained.  "What's the meaning of it all.  Is it any special year&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's your year, sir," laughed Lucy.  "That's the meaning of it!  It's all
+for your wedding day.  You see, sir, you have been so good to us all, we
+want to do what we can to show you and Miss Grace what we feel towards you
+both."</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Edwards was touched.  Seacombe folk did not talk much of their
+feelings, and he had never dreamed how much they felt.  "It is very, very
+kind of you all," he said, "and the knowledge will make us more happy than
+all our wedding presents put together."</p>
+
+<p>"And we are all praying, sir, that the day may be as perfect a one as ever
+anybody knew," chimed in Mrs. Row, who was standing close by.</p>
+
+<p>And surely no people ever had their prayers more graciously granted.
+The sun shone in a cloudless sky from morning till night.  A soft little
+breeze from the sea tempered the warmth, and set all the flags and
+streamers waving.  And as the bride walked down the churchyard path on her
+husband's arm, it blew the rose petals over her, pink, and crimson, and
+white.</p>
+
+<p>Mona, her wishes realised, wore a blue sash and forget-me-nots in her hat;
+Millie stood next her with pink roses in hers, and a pink sash.  Patty was
+a blue girl, and Philippa a pink one.  And though the baskets they carried
+held not so very many roses, they were flowing over with other flowers,
+for the girls had walked miles to gather bluebells and primroses, violets
+and delicate anemones, the air smelt sweetly of spring, and the joy of
+spring was in their faces, and in their hearts as well.</p>
+
+<p>And as the bride walked away down the path, Mona looked after her with
+tender, wistful eyes, and an unspoken prayer in her heart, that she might
+be given the grace, and the power to serve her new mistress well and
+loyally, and to do her share towards making her new life in her new home
+as happy as life could be.</p>
+
+
+
+<h2>THE END.</h2>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Making of Mona, by Mabel Quiller-Couch
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Making of Mona, by Mabel Quiller-Couch
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Making of Mona
+
+Author: Mabel Quiller-Couch
+
+Illustrator: E. Wallcousins
+
+Release Date: November 4, 2009 [EBook #30402]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAKING OF MONA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Lionel Sear
+
+
+
+
+THE MAKING OF MONA.
+
+BY MABEL QUILLER-COUCH.
+(Author of 'Troublesome Ursula,' 'A Pair of Red-Polls,' 'Kitty Trenire,'
+'The Carroll Girls', Etc., Etc.)
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY E. WALLCOUSINS.
+
+LONDON
+SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.
+NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
+
+
+[Illustration: Granny stood staring at her broken treasures.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The kettle sat on the hob, and Mona sat on the floor, both as idle as idle
+could be.
+
+"I will just wait till the kettle begins to sing," thought Mona; and
+became absorbed in her book again.
+
+After a while the kettle, at any rate, seemed to repent of its laziness,
+for it began to hum softly, and then to hum loudly, and then to sing, but
+Mona was completely lost in the story she was reading, and had no mind for
+repentance or anything else.  She did not hear the kettle's song, nor even
+the rattling of its cover when it boiled, though it seemed to be trying in
+every way to attract her attention.  It went on trying, too, until at last
+it had no power to try any longer, for the fire had died low, and the
+kettle grew so chilly it had not even the heart to 'hum,' but sat on the
+black, gloomy-looking stove, looking black and gloomy too, and, if kettles
+have any power to think, it was probably thinking that poor old granny
+Barnes' tea would be scarcely worth drinking when she came home presently,
+tired and hungry, from her walk to Milbrook, for Mona, even if she
+realised that the water had boiled, would never dream of emptying it away
+and filling the kettle afresh, as she should do.
+
+But Mona had no thought for kettles, or tea, or granny either, for her
+whole mind, her eyes, her ears, and all her senses were with the heroine
+of the fascinating story she was absorbed in; and who could remember fires
+and kettles and other commonplace things when one was driving through a
+lovely park in a beautiful pony carriage, drawn by cream-coloured ponies,
+and seated beside an exquisitely dressed little lady who had more money
+than she could count, and insisted on sharing all with her companion?
+
+Mona certainly could not.  She never could manage to remember two things
+at the same time; so, as all her thoughts were absorbed by her
+golden-haired friend in the blue silk frock, granny in her old black
+merino and heavy boots was forgotten as completely as the fire, and it was
+not until someone came stumbling up the garden path and a tired voice
+said, "Well, dearie, I'm come at last, how have you got on since I've been
+gone?" that she remembered anything about either; and when she did she
+felt almost sorry that granny had come quite so soon, for if she had only
+been a few minutes later Mona might just have finished the chapter.
+
+"Oh, I'm so tired!" groaned granny, dropping wearily into her arm-chair.
+"I have been longing for a nice cup of tea for this hour and more."
+Then, as her eyes fell on the black grate, her voice changed to one of
+dismay.  "Why, Mona!" she cried, "the fire's gone clean out!  Oh, dear!
+oh, dear!"  Granny's voice was full of disappointment.  With anyone but
+Mona she would have been very cross indeed, but she was rarely cross with
+her.  "I daresay it'll catch up again quickly with a few sticks,"
+she added patiently.
+
+Mona, really ashamed of herself, ran out to the little wood-rick which
+stood always in the back-yard.  "Stupid old fire," she muttered
+impatiently, "of course it must go out, just to spite me because I wanted
+to have a little read," and she jerked out the sticks with such force that
+a whole pile of faggots came tumbling down to the ground.  She did not
+stay, though, to pick them up again, for she really was sorry for her
+carelessness, and wanted to try and catch up the fire as quickly as
+possible.  She had fully meant to have a nice fire, and the tea laid,
+and the kettle on the point of boiling, and everything as nice as could be
+by the time her grandmother got back from the town.  But one never got any
+credit for what one meant to do, thought Mona with a feeling of self-pity.
+
+By the time she got back to the kitchen her grandmother had taken off her
+bonnet and shawl and was putting on her apron.  "My feet do ache," she
+sighed.  "The roads are so rough, and it's a good step to Milbrook and
+back--leastways it seems so when you're past sixty."
+
+Mona felt another pang of shame, for it was she who should have gone to
+the town to do the shopping; but she had not wanted to, and had complained
+of being tired, and so granny had gone herself, and Mona had let her.
+
+"Let me unlace your boots, granny, and get your slippers for you."
+She thought she would feel less guilty if she did something to make her
+grandmother more comfortable.  "You sit down in your chair, I'll do all
+that's got to be done."
+
+Mrs. Barnes leaned back with a sigh of relief.  "Bless the dear child,"
+she thought affectionately, "how she does think for her old granny!"
+She had already forgotten that Mona had let the fire go out, and neglected
+to make any preparations for her home-coming; and Mona, who could be very
+thoughtful and kind if she chose, knelt down and unlaced the heavy boots,
+and slipped the warm, comfortable slippers on to the tired old feet,
+laughing and chattering cheerfully the while.
+
+"Now you are to sit there, gran, and not to dare to move to do one single
+thing.  I'm going to talk to that fire, and you'll see how I'll coax him
+up in no time, and if that kettle doesn't sing in five minutes I'll take
+the poker to him."  And, whether it was because of her coaxing or not,
+the fire soon flamed cheerfully, and the kettle, being already warm, began
+to sing almost as soon as Mona had got the cloth spread.
+
+While she waited for it to come to boiling point, she sat down on her
+little stool by the fire, and took up her book again.  "Just to have a
+little look at the pictures for a minute," she explained.  "Oh, granny, it
+is such a lovely story, I must tell you about it."
+
+"Yes, dear, I'd like to--some day."
+
+But Mona did not hear the 'some day.' She was already pouring into
+granny's ear all she had read, and granny interjected patiently,
+"Yes, dearie," and "Oh my!" and "How nice!" though she was so faint and
+weary she could not take in half of Mona's chatter.
+
+Presently the kettle boiled again, but Mona was once more lost to
+everything but her story, and it was granny who got up and made the tea.
+
+"It's all ready, dearie," she said, as she sank into her chair once more.
+"You must tell me the rest while you are having it.  Oh, there's no butter
+out."  She had to get up again and drag her aching feet to the little
+larder for the butter, and as soon as she had settled herself again she
+had to get up and get a teaspoon.  Mona had forgotten a half of the things
+she should have laid, and she had forgotten, too, that granny was tired.
+
+"And oh, granny," she went on breathlessly, "on her birthday Pauline wore
+a muslin dress, with blue forget-me-nots worked all over it, and a blue
+sash, and--and a hat just covered with forget-me-nots."
+
+"She must have looked like a bed of them," remarked Granny.
+
+"Oh, _I_ think she looked perfectly sweet!  I'd love to have clothes like
+she had.  Of course, she didn't have to do _any_ work--nothing at all all
+day long."
+
+"Well, I know a little girl who doesn't do much," remarked granny quietly,
+but Mona did not hear her.
+
+"Granny, do you think I'll be able to have a new hat this summer?
+Mine is ever so shabby--and shall I have forget-me-nots on it?  I'd rather
+have forget-me-nots than anything.  I suppose I couldn't have a blue sash
+to wear with it, could I, Gran?  I don't think they cost very very much.
+Millie Higgins, in at Seacombe, had a plaid one, and she was sure it
+didn't cost a great deal, she said.  Her uncle brought it to her,
+but Millie never wears it.  She doesn't like plaid; she wishes it was
+pink.  I'd wear it if 'twas mine, but I'd rather have a blue one.  Do you
+think I can have a new hat, granny?"
+
+"We will see.  If your father is able to send some more money for you I
+might be able to manage it; but with your stepmother always ailing his
+money seems to be all wanted for doctor's bills and medicines.  It does
+seem hard."
+
+Mona's face fell.  "And I don't suppose the medicine does any good, do
+you, granny?"
+
+"Some folks believe in it, and I s'pose if you believe in it it does you
+good.  For my own part, I never had but two bottles in my life, and I
+don't see that I'm any the worse for going without.  In fact, I----"
+
+Mona, who always sat at the side of the table facing the window, sprang to
+her feet excitedly.  "Why, it's the postman! and he's coming in here,"
+she interrupted, and was at the door to meet him before he had power to
+knock.  She came back more slowly, carefully studying the one letter she
+held.  "It's from father," she said eagerly, as she at last handed it to
+her grandmother.  "Oh, granny!  I wonder if he has sent any money?"
+
+Granny was evidently surprised.  "A letter from your father!  Whatever can
+he be writing about?  I haven't written to him since I had his last.
+I hope he isn't having more trouble."
+
+"Perhaps he has written to know why you haven't," said Mona shrewdly.
+
+"Oh, granny, do make haste and open the letter, I am longing to know
+what's inside!"
+
+But letters did not come every day to Hillside Cottage, so when they did
+they must be made the most of.  Mrs. Barnes examined the envelope back and
+front; the handwriting, the stamp, the postmark; then she had to go to a
+drawer to get a skewer with which to slit the envelope, then her
+spectacles had to be found, polished, and put on, and at long last she
+took out the letter and began to read.
+
+Mona chafed with impatience as she watched her.  Her eyes looked ready to
+pop out of her head with eagerness.  "Why don't you let me read it to
+you?" she cried at last, irritably, and regretted her words as soon as
+they were spoken.  Granny laid the letter on the table beside her and
+fixed her eyes on Mona instead.  "I am not got past reading my own letters
+yet," she said sternly, looking out over the tops of her spectacles at
+her.  Mona was dreadfully afraid they would fall off, and then the
+polishing and fixing process would all have to be gone through again,
+but she had the wisdom to hold her tongue this time, and granny took up
+the letter again, and at last began to read it, while Mona tried hard to
+read granny's face.
+
+She did not utter aloud one word of what she was reading, but presently
+she gave a little half-suppressed cry.
+
+"Oh, granny, what's the matter?"  Mona could keep quiet no longer.
+
+"Oh, dear! oh, dear!  Here's a pretty fine thing.  Your father wants you
+to go home."
+
+Mona's face fell again.  Then he had not sent any money, and she would not
+be able to have her hat!  For the moment nothing else seemed to matter.
+
+"What does he want me home for?" she asked sullenly.
+
+"Your stepmother has been ill again, and the doctor says she mustn't be
+left alone, and must have someone to help her.  She's terrible nervous
+when your father's away to the fishing, so you've got to be fetched home."
+Mrs. Barnes spoke resentfully.  Her daughter, Mona's mother, had died when
+Mona was a sturdy little maiden of ten, and for eighteen months Mona had
+run wild.  Her father could not bear to part with her, nor would he have
+anyone to live with them.  So Mona had been his housekeeper, or rather,
+the house had kept itself, for Mona had taken no care of it, nor of her
+father's comforts, nor of her own clothes, or his.  She just let
+everything go, and had a gloriously lazy, happy time, with no one to
+restrain her, or make her do anything she did not want to do.
+
+She was too young, of course, to be put in such a position; but she did
+not even do what she might have done, and no one was surprised, and no one
+blamed her father--no one, at least, but Mrs. Barnes--when at the end of
+eighteen months he married pretty, gentle Lucy Garland, one of the
+housemaids at the Squire's.
+
+Mrs. Barnes, though, resented very strongly anyone being put in her dead
+daughter's place, with control over her daughter's child, and she had
+written angrily enough to Peter, demanding that Mona should be given up to
+her.  And though he doubted the wisdom of it, to please and pacify her,
+Peter Carne had let her have the child.  "Not for good," he said,
+"for I can't part with her altogether, but for a long visit."
+
+"If she puts Mona against Lucy, it'll be a bad job," he thought
+anxiously, "and mischief may be done that it'll take more than I know to
+undo."
+
+However, Mona felt none of the dislike of her stepmother that her
+grandmother felt.  In fact, she was too happy-go-lucky and fond of change
+to feel very strongly about anything.  She had got her father's home and
+all his affairs into such a muddle she was not sorry to go right away and
+leave it all.  She was tired of even the little housework she did.
+She hated having to get up and light the fire, and, on the whole, she was
+very glad for someone else to step in and take it all off her shoulders.
+And as she had left her home before her stepmother came to it, she had not
+experienced what it was to have someone in authority over her.
+
+So Mona felt no real grievance against her stepmother, and, with all her
+faults, she was too healthy-minded to invent one.  Her grandmother's not
+too kind remarks about her had fallen on indifferent ears, and,
+fortunately, had had no effect except to make Mona feel a sort of mild
+scorn for anyone so constantly ailing as Lucy Carne was.
+
+She felt no sympathy for the cause of the ill-health, even though she knew
+that it all began one bitter, stormy night when Lucy and the wives of the
+other men who were out at sea stood for hours watching for the first signs
+of the little storm-tossed boats, in the agony of their hearts, deaf and
+blind, and entirely unconscious of the driving sheets of rain and the
+biting east wind which soaked and chilled them to the bone.
+
+When at daybreak the storm lulled, and the boats, with all safe on board,
+were seen beating up before the wind, all the misery and wet and cold were
+forgotten as they hurried joyfully home to make up big fires and prepare
+hot food for the exhausted men.  But more than one woman paid heavily for
+the night's experience, and Lucy Carne was among them.
+
+For days she had lain writhing in the agony of rheumatic fever.  For days
+she had lain at the gates of death, and when at last she came back to
+life again, it was such a wreck of her old self that she was scarcely able
+to do anything.  And this in Granny Barnes' eyes had been an added
+grievance.
+
+It was a greater grievance than ever now, for it meant that her
+grandchild, her very own daughter's child, was to be taken from her, to
+work for the stranger who had taken her daughter's place.
+
+Fortunately, Mona had no such foolish thoughts.  Her only grievance was
+that the money which might have been spent on a new hat would have to be
+spent on the carrier.  "And nobody will be any the better for it, except
+Mr. Darbie, and he's got lots already.  They say he has a whole bagful in
+a box under his bed."
+
+"Your stepmother will be better off.  She'll have you," said Granny Barnes
+crossly.  "Well, the letter's spoilt my tea for me.  Anyway, I don't want
+anything more.  I've had enough for one while."
+
+Mona looked surprised.  "Oh, has it! I thought you were hungry, granny.
+I am," and she helped herself to another slice of bread and butter.
+"I wonder which day I'd better go?--and I must wear my best frock, mustn't
+I?  Such a lot of people go by the van, and you've got to sit so close you
+can't help seeing if anybody's clothes are shabby."
+
+"Um, you seem to have thought it all out, but you don't seem to think
+anything of leaving me, nor of what my feelings may be.  You'd better wear
+your best frock and your best hat too, then your father and your
+stepmother will see that you want something new for Sundays.  It's as well
+folk should learn that all the money can't be spent on doctors and
+physic--that there's other things wanted too!"
+
+But this speech only sent Mona's expectations higher, and lessened her
+regrets at leaving.  If going home to Seacombe and her new mother meant
+having a new hat and dress, she would only be the more pleased at having
+to go.  She was so occupied with these thoughts that she did not notice
+her grandmother rise and leave the kitchen, nor did she see the tears in
+the sad old eyes.  But her dreams of a journey, clad all in her best,
+were suddenly broken in upon by a sharp scream.  The scream came from the
+backyard.  Mona flew out at once.  It was getting dark out of doors now,
+but not too dark for her to see her grandmother stretched on the ground
+with faggots of wood lying all around her.
+
+For a moment Mona's heart seemed to stand still with fear.  She thought
+her grandmother was killed, or, at any rate, had broken her leg.  Then, to
+her intense relief, Mrs. Barnes groaned, and began to rouse herself.
+
+"However did these things come scattered about like this, I should like to
+know," she cried angrily.  But in her relief at knowing she was able to
+move and speak Mona did not mind granny's crossness.
+
+"Didn't you pull them down?"
+
+"I pull them down." Granny's voice was shrill with indignation.  "It was
+they pulled me down!  I wonder I wasn't killed outright.  It must have
+been those cats that knocked them over.  They are always ranging all over
+the yard.  I shall tell Mrs. Lane if she can't keep them in she'll have to
+get rid of them.  Oh, dear, what a shaking I've had, and I might have
+broke my leg and my head and everything.  Well, can't you try an' give me
+a hand to help me up?"
+
+But Mona was standing dumb-stricken.  It had come back to her at last.
+It was she who had pulled down the faggots and left them.  She had meant
+to go out again and pick them up, and, of course, had forgotten about
+them, and she might have been the cause of a terrible accident!
+She was so shocked and so full of remorse, she could not find a word to
+utter.  Fortunately, it was dark, and her grandmother was too absorbed to
+notice her embarrassment.  All her time was taken up in getting on to her
+feet again and peering about her to try and catch sight of the cats.
+
+Perhaps if granny had been less determined to wage war on the cats,
+Mona might have found courage to make her confession, but while she waited
+for a chance to speak her courage ebbed away.  She had done so many wrong
+things that afternoon, she was ashamed to own to more, and, after all, she
+thought, it would not make it better for granny if she did know who really
+scattered the faggots.  So in the end Mona held her tongue, and contented
+herself with giving what assistance she could.
+
+"This is Black Monday for me!" she said to herself as she helped her
+grandmother into the house again.  "Never mind, I'll begin better
+to-morrow.  There's one good thing, there's no real harm done."
+
+She was not so sure, though, that 'no harm was done' when she woke the
+next morning and heard loud voices and sound of quarrelling coming from
+the garden.  She soon, indeed, began to feel that there had been a great
+deal of harm done.
+
+"Well, what I say is," her grandmother cried shrilly, "your cats were
+nearly the death of me, and I'll trouble you to keep them in your own
+place."
+
+"And what I say is," cried her neighbour, "my cats were never near your
+faggot rick.  They didn't go into your place at all last night; they were
+both asleep by my kitchen fire from three in the afternoon till after we'd
+had our supper.  Me and my husband both saw them.  You can ask him
+yourself if you like."
+
+"I shan't ask him.  I wouldn't stoop to bandy words about it.  I know, and
+I've a right to my own opinion."
+
+"Do you mean to say you don't believe what I say?" cried Mrs. Lane
+indignantly.  "Do you mean to tell me I'm telling an untruth?
+Well, Mrs. Barnes, if you won't speak to my husband, and won't believe me,
+perhaps you'll ask your Mona!  I daresay she can tell you how the faggots
+got scattered.  She was out there, I saw her from----"
+
+"That's right! Try and put it off on the poor child! Do you expect me to
+believe that my Mona would have left those faggots----"
+
+"Ask her, that's all," said Mrs. Lane, meaningly.  "And now I've done.
+I ain't going to have anything more to say.  You're too vi'lent and
+onreasonable, Mrs. Barnes, and I'll trouble you not to address me again
+till you've 'pologised."
+
+Granny laughed, a short sarcastic laugh.  "'Pologise!" she cried shrilly,
+"and me in the right too!  No, not if I lived next door to you for fifty
+years, I wouldn't 'pologise.  When you've 'pologised to me, Mrs. Lane,
+I'll begin to think about speaking to you again."
+
+Mona, standing shivering by the window, listened to it all with a sick
+feeling of shame and dismay.  "Oh, why does granny say such dreadful
+things!  Oh, I wish I'd spoken out at once!  Now, when granny asks me,
+I shall have to tell her, and oh," miserably, "won't she be angry?"
+
+But Mona escaped that ordeal.  Her grandmother did not mention the
+subject, for one reason; she felt too unwell; an outburst of anger always
+made her ill; and for another, she was already ashamed of herself and of
+what she had said.  Altogether, she was so uncomfortable about the whole
+matter, and so ashamed, and vexed, she wanted to try to forget all about
+it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+John Darbie and his one-horse van journeyed from Milbrook to Seacombe
+every Tuesday and Friday, passing Mrs. Barnes' cottage on their way;
+and on Wednesdays and Saturdays he journeyed home again.  The two places
+were only ten miles apart, but, as John's horse 'Lion' never travelled
+faster than three miles an hour, and frequent stops had to be made to pick
+up passengers and luggage, and put down other passengers and other
+luggage, the journey was seldom accomplished in less than six hours.
+
+The day that Mona travelled to Seacombe the journey took longer than
+usual, for they had to stop at Barnes Gate--an old turnpike--to pick up a
+couple of young pigs, which were to be brought by a farm boy to meet them
+there; and as the pigs refused to be picked up, and were determined to
+race back to their home, it took John and the farmer's boy, and some of
+the passengers, quite a long time to persuade them that their fate lay in
+another direction.
+
+Mona, homesick and depressed, was quite glad of the distraction, though
+she felt sorry for the poor pigs.  At that moment she felt sorry for
+anyone or anything which had to leave its old home for a new one.
+
+Only a few days had elapsed since that evening when her father's letter
+had come, and her grandmother had fallen over the faggots, but such long,
+unhappy days they had been.  Her grandmother had been silent and
+depressed, and she herself had been very unhappy, and everything had
+seemed wrong.  Sometimes she had longed to be gone, and the parting over.
+Yet, when at last the day came, and she had to say good-bye to granny,
+and her own little bedroom, and the cottage, and to leave without saying
+good-bye to Mrs. Lane, it seemed almost more than she could bear.
+She looked out at the cottage and at granny, standing waving her
+handkerchief, but she could scarcely see either because of the mist in her
+eyes, and, when at last the van turned a corner which cut them off
+entirely from view, the mist in her eyes changed to rain.
+
+If it had not been for the other people in the van, Mona would have jumped
+out and run back again, and have confessed all to granny, and have been
+happy once more.  She knew that if she asked granny to forgive her,
+she would do so before long, even if she was vexed with her at first.
+
+But Mona's courage failed her.  The people in the van would try to stop
+her, and very likely would succeed, and there would be such a chattering
+and fuss.  Her spirit sank at the thought of it, and so she hesitated and
+wavered until it was too late.
+
+It was not to be wondered at that she welcomed the little scene with the
+pigs at the four cross-roads, and felt quite glad when Mr. Darbie asked
+her to get out and stand at the end of one of the roads to keep the poor
+little things from running down it.
+
+"We shan't get to Seacombe till nightfall," grumbled the old man when at
+last he had got the pair into two sacks, and had fastened them up securely
+on the tail-board of the van.
+
+"And I've got to catch the five o'clock train from there," said one of the
+passengers sourly.  "If ever you want to be a little bit earlier than
+usual, you're bound to be later.  It's always the way."
+
+Old John Darbie always recovered his temper when other people had lost
+theirs.  He realised how foolish they looked and sounded.  "Aw, don't you
+worry, missus," he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
+"She'll wait for me.  They wouldn't let no train start 'fore me and my
+passengers was in!"
+
+All the rest of the passengers laughed, Mona too, at which the sour-faced
+woman glared at them angrily.  Then they jogged on again, and by that time
+Mona had recovered sufficiently to be able to take more interest in her
+surroundings.
+
+She noticed that the woman beside her, and the woman opposite her, were
+looking her up and down, and she felt very glad that she had on her best
+hat and dress.  She did wish, though, that she had mended the hole in her
+gloves, for one of the women seemed more attracted by them than by
+anything else, and it was really rather embarrassing.  She longed to put
+her hands behind her back to hide them, but that would have looked too
+pointed; so, instead, she turned round and looked out of the window,
+pretending to be lost to everything but the view.
+
+It was a very pretty road that they were travelling, but very hilly,
+and Lion's pace grew, if possible, even slower.  One or two of the
+passengers complained loudly, but Mona was enjoying herself thoroughly
+now.  To her everything was of interest, from the hedges and the ploughed
+fields, just showing a tinge of green, to the cottages and farms they
+passed here and there.  To many people each mile would have seemed just
+like the last, but to Mona each had a charm of its own.  She knew all the
+houses by sight, and knew the people who dwelt in some of them, and when
+by and by the van drew near to Seacombe, and at last, between a dip in the
+land, she caught her first glimpse of the sea, her heart gave a great
+leap, and a something caught in her throat.  This was home, this was her
+real home.  Mona knew it now, if she had never realised it before.
+
+At Hillside something had always been lacking--she could hardly have told
+what, but somehow, she had never loved the place itself.  It had never
+been quite 'home' to her, and never could be.
+
+"I expect you're tired, dear, ain't you?" the woman beside her asked in a
+kindly voice.  The face Mona turned to her was pale, but it was with
+feeling, not tiredness.
+
+"Oh, no," she cried, hardly knowing what she felt, or how to put it into
+words.  "I was a little while ago--but I ain't now.  I--I don't think I
+could ever feel tired while I could see that!" She pointed towards the
+stretch of blue water, with the setting sun making a road of gold right
+across it and into the heaven that joined it.
+
+The woman smiled sadly.  "Are you so fond of it as all that!  I wish I
+was.  I can't abide it--it frightens me.  I never look at it if I can help
+it.  It makes me feel bad."
+
+"And it makes me feel good," thought Mona, but she was shy of saying so.
+"I think I should be ashamed to do anything mean when I was in sight of
+the sea," she added to herself.  And then the old horse drew up suddenly,
+and she saw that they had actually reached their journey's end.
+
+As she stepped down from the van and stood alone in the inn yard, where
+John Darbie always unloaded, and put up his horse and van, Mona for the
+first time felt shy and nervous.  She and her new mother were really
+strangers to each other.  They had met but once, and that for only a
+little while.
+
+"And p'raps we shan't get on a bit," thought Mona.  "P'raps she's very
+particular, and will be always scolding!" and she felt very miserable.
+And then, as she looked about her, and found that no one, as far as she
+could tell, had come to meet her, she began to feel very forlorn, and
+ill-used too.  All the sharp little unkind remarks about Lucy Carne, which
+had fallen from Granny Barnes' lips, came back to her mind.
+
+"I do think somebody might have come to meet me!" she said to herself, and
+being tired, and nervous, and a little bit homesick for granny, the tears
+rushed to her eyes.  Hastily diving in her pocket for her handkerchief,
+her fingers touched her purse, and she suddenly realised that she had not
+paid John Darbie his fare!  With a thrill and a blush at her own
+forgetfulness, she hurried back to where he was busy unloading his van.
+He had already taken down the pigs and some bundles of peasticks, and a
+chair which wanted a new cane seat, and was about to mount to the top to
+drag down the luggage which was up there, when he saw Mona waiting for
+him.
+
+"Please, here's my fare.  I'm sorry I forgot it, and how am I to get my
+box up to my house?"
+
+"Get your box up?  Why the same way as you'll get yourself up.  Hop inside
+again, and I'll drive 'ee both up in a minute.  I promised your mother I
+would.  You hold on to your money now, it'll be time enough to settle up
+when I've done my job," and the old man chuckled amiably at his little
+joke.
+
+But Mona did not want to get back into the close, stuffy van again, and
+sit there in solitary state, with everyone who passed by staring at her.
+So, as soon as John Darbie was safely on the top and busy amongst the
+boxes there, she walked quietly out of the yard and into the street.
+
+How familiar it all was, and how unchanged!  After Milbrook--the little
+ugly new town, scarcely worthy the name of town--and the hamlet where her
+granny lived, the street and houses looked small and old-fashioned, but
+they looked homelike and strong.  The Milbrook houses, with their walls
+half a brick thick, and their fronts all bow-windows, would not have
+lasted any time in little stormy, wind-swept Seacombe.  Experience had
+taught Seacombe folk that their walls must be nearly as solid as the
+cliffs on which many of them were built, and the windows must be small and
+set deep in the walls; otherwise they were as likely as not to be blown in
+altogether when the winter storms raged; that roofs must come well down to
+meet the little windows, like heavy brows protecting the eyes beneath,
+which under their shelter, could gaze out defiantly at sea and storm.
+
+To Mona, seeing them again after many months' absence, the houses looked
+rough and poor, and plain; yet she loved them, and, as she walked up the
+steep, narrow street, she glanced about her with eager, glowing eyes.
+For the time her loneliness and nervousness were forgotten.  Here and
+there someone recognised her, but at that hour there were never many
+people about.
+
+"Why, Mona Carne! is it really you!  Well, your mother and father'll be
+glad to have you home again." Mona beamed gratefully on the speaker.
+
+"Is it really Mona," cried another.  "Why, now, you've grown!  I didn't
+know you till Mrs. Row said your name!"
+
+Mona began to feel less forlorn and ill-used, and she was more glad than
+ever that she had on her best clothes, and had put her hair up in squibs
+the night before.
+
+Outside one of the few shops Seacombe possessed, she drew up and looked in
+at the windows with interest.  They had improved a little.  The draper's
+was particularly gay with new spring things, and to Mona who had not seen
+a shop lately, unless she walked the three miles to Milbrook, the sight
+was fascinating.  One window was full of ties, gloves, and ribbons; the
+other was as gay as a garden with flowers of every kind and colour, all
+blooming at once.  Many of them were crude and common, but to Mona's eyes
+they were beautiful.  There were wreaths of wall-flowers, of roses, and of
+lilacs, but the prettiest of all to Mona was one of roses and
+forget-me-nots woven in together.
+
+"Oh," she gasped, "how I'd love to have that one!  Oh, I'd love it!"
+There were hats in the window, too.  Pretty, light, wide-brimmed hats.
+Mona's eyes travelled backwards and forwards over them till she saw one of
+the palest green straw, the colour of a duck's egg.
+
+"Oh, wouldn't the roses and forget-me-nots look lovely on that, with just
+a bow of white ribbon at the back.  Oh, I wish----"
+
+"Why, it's Mona Carne!" cried a voice behind her, and Mona, wheeling
+swiftly round, found Millie Higgins at her elbow.
+
+"Why, who ever would have thought of meeting you strolling up the street
+just as though you had never been away!" cried Millie.  "But you've grown,
+Mona.  You are ever so much taller than when you went away, and your
+hair's longer too.  Do you think I am changed?"
+
+Mona was delighted.  She wanted to be tall, and she wanted to have nice
+long hair.  She had never cared for Millie Higgins before, but at that
+moment she felt that she liked her very much indeed, and they chattered
+eagerly to each other, lost to everything but the news they had to pour
+into each other's ears.
+
+After a little while, though, Millie tired of talking.  She wanted to get
+on, and what Millie wanted to do she generally did.  "I must fly--and
+there's your poor mother home worrying herself all this time to a
+fiddle-string, wondering what has become of you.  She expected the van an
+hour ago, and had got your tea all ready and waiting for you."
+
+Mona started guiltily, and then began to excuse herself.  "Well, we were
+late in coming, we were so long on the road.  Mr. Darbie said he'd drive
+me up, but I liked walking best.  If I had gone up by the van I shouldn't
+have been there yet, so it's all the same."
+
+"The van!  Why, it's gone by.  Only a minute ago, though.  If you run
+you'll be there almost as soon as he will."
+
+Without staying to say good-bye, Mona ran, but either Millie's minute had
+been a very long one, or 'Lion' had stepped out more briskly at the end of
+the day than at the beginning, for when Mona got to the house John Darbie
+was just coming away.  "Thank'ee, ma'am," he was saying, and Mona saw him
+putting some coins in his pocket.
+
+"I've got the----" she began to call out to him, but stopped, for her new
+mother came out to the gate, and looked anxiously down the hill.  She was
+looking for herself, Mona knew, and a fit of shyness came over her which
+drove every other thought from her mind.
+
+But almost as quickly as the shyness came it disappeared again, for Lucy's
+eyes fell on her, and, her face alight with pleasure, Lucy came forward
+with arms outstretched in welcome.  "Why, you poor little tired thing,
+you," she cried, kissing her warmly, "you must be famished!  Come in, do.
+I was quite frightened about you, for I've been expecting you this hour
+and more, and then when Mr. Darbie came, and brought only your box,
+it seemed as if I wasn't ever going to see you.  Come in, dear," drawing
+Mona's arm through her own, and leading her into the house.  "Sit down and
+rest a bit before you go up to see your room."
+
+Exhausted with excitement, and talking, and the extra exertion, Lucy
+herself had to sit down for a few minutes to get her breath.  Mona, more
+tired than she realised until she came to sit down, lay back in her
+father's big chair and looked about her with shy interest.  How familiar
+it all seemed, yet how changed.  Instead of the old torn, soiled drab
+paper, the walls were covered with a pretty blue one, against which the
+dresser and table and the old familiar china showed up spotless and
+dainty; the steel on the stove might have been silver, the floor was as
+clean and snowy as the table.
+
+Mona's memory of it all was very different.  In those days there had been
+muddle, dust, grease everywhere, the grate was always greasy and choked
+with ashes, the table sloppy and greasy, the floor unwashed, even unswept,
+the dressers with more dust than anything else on them.  Mona could
+scarcely believe that the same place and things could look so different.
+
+"Oh, how nice it all is," she said in a voice full of admiration, and Lucy
+smiled with pleasure.  She knew that many girls would not have admitted
+any improvement even if they had seen it.
+
+"Shall we go upstairs now?" she said.  "I've got my breath again," and she
+led the way up the steep little staircase, which Mona remembered so well.
+
+"You know the way to your old room, don't you?"
+
+Mona walked ahead to it, but at the door she drew up with a cry of
+delight.  "Oh, Mother!" she turned to say with a beaming face, and without
+noticing that she had called her by the name about which she and granny
+had debated so long.
+
+Lucy noticed it though, and coloured with pleasure.  She had felt more shy
+than had Mona, about suggesting what her stepchild should call her.
+"Thank you, dear, for calling me that," she said, putting her arm about
+her and kissing her.  "I didn't know, I wondered how you would feel about
+it."
+
+But Mona was too delighted with everything she saw to feel anything but
+pleasure and gratitude then.  The walls had been papered with a pretty
+rose-covered paper, the shabby little bed had been painted white.
+Pretty pink curtains hung at the window, and beside the bed stood a small
+bookcase with all Mona's own books in it.  Books that she had left lying
+about torn and shabby, and had thought would have been thrown away, or
+burnt, long ago.  Lucy had collected them, and mended and cleaned them.
+And Lucy, who had brought to her new house many of the ideas she had
+gathered while in service at the Squire's, had painted the furniture white
+too, to match the bed.
+
+Mona had never in her life before seen anything so pretty and dainty.
+"Isn't it lovely!" she cried, sitting down plump on the clean white quilt,
+and crushing it.  "I can't believe it's for me."  She looked about her
+with admiring eyes as she dragged off her hat and tossed it from her,
+accidentally knocking over the candlestick as she did so.
+
+Lucy stooped and picked up both.  The candlestick was chipped, the hat was
+certainly not improved.
+
+"The chipped place will not show much," said Lucy in her gentle, tired
+voice, "but you've crushed the flowers in your hat."
+
+Mona looked at the hat with indifferent eyes.  "Have I? Oh, well, it's my
+last year's one.  I shall want a new one for the summer."
+
+"Shall you, dear?"
+
+Mona did not notice the little anxious pucker of her mother's forehead.
+Carried away by all that had been done for her already, she had the
+feeling that money must be plentiful at Cliff Cottage.  Her father's boat
+had done well, she supposed.
+
+But before any more was said, a sound of footsteps reached them from
+below, and a loud voice, gruff but kindly, shouted through the little
+place "Lucy, where are you, my girl?  Has the little maid come?" and the
+next moment Mona was darting down the stairs and, taking the last in one
+flying leap, as in the old days, sprang into her father's arms.
+
+"My word!  What a big maid you are grown!" he cried, holding her a little
+way from him, and eyeing her proudly.  "Granny Barnes must have taken good
+care of you!  And now you've come to take care of Lucy and me.
+Eh!  Isn't that it?"
+
+"Yes, dad, that's it," cried Mona, excitedly, and sat back with all her
+weight on the pretty flowers and the fresh eggs that her grandmother had
+sent to Lucy by her.
+
+Her father looked vexed.  He knew how much his ailing wife enjoyed fresh
+eggs, and how seldom she allowed herself one, but he could not very well
+express his feelings just when Mona had come back to her home after her
+long absence, so he only laughed a little ruefully, and said, "Same as
+ever, Mona!  Same as ever!"
+
+But, to his surprise, tears welled up into Mona's eyes.  "I--I didn't mean
+to be," she said tremulously.  "I meant to try to be careful--but I--I've
+done nothing but break things ever since I came.  You--you'll be wishing
+you had never had me home."
+
+"We shan't do that, I know," said Lucy kindly.  "There's some days when
+one seems to break everything one touches--but they don't happen often.
+Now I'll make the tea.  I'm sure we all want some.  Come, Peter, and take
+your own chair.  There's no moving around the kitchen till we've put you
+in your corner.  Mona, will you sit in the window?"
+
+"I think I ought to stand," said Mona tragically.  "I've sat down once too
+often already."
+
+At which they all burst out laughing, and drew round the table in the
+happiest of spirits.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+From the moment she lay down in her little white bed, Mona had slept the
+whole night through.  She had risen early the day before--early at least,
+for her, for her grandmother always got up first, and lighted the fire and
+swept the kitchen before she called Mona, who got down, as a rule, in time
+to sit down to the breakfast her grandmother had got ready for her.
+
+On this first morning in her home she woke of her own accord, and
+half-waking, half-sleeping, and with not a thought of getting up, she
+turned over and was about to snuggle down into the cosy warmth again,
+when across her drowsy eyes flashed the light from her sunny window.
+
+"Why, how does the window get over there?" she asked herself, and then
+recollection came pouring over her, and sleepiness vanished, for life
+seemed suddenly very pleasant and interesting, and full of things to do,
+and see, and think about.
+
+Presently the clock in the church-tower struck seven.  "Only seven!
+Then I've got another hour before I need get up!  But I'll just have a
+look out to see what it all looks like.  How funny it seems to be back
+again!"  She slipped out of bed and across the floor to draw back the
+curtains.  Outside the narrow street stretched sunny and deserted.
+The garden, drenched with dew, was bathed in sunshine too.  But it was not
+on the garden or the street that her eyes lingered, but on the sea beyond
+the low stone wall on the opposite side of the way.  Deep blue it
+stretched, its bosom gently heaving, blue as the sky above, and the jewels
+with which its bosom was decked flashed and sparkled in the morning
+sunshine.
+
+"Oh-h-h!" gasped Mona.  "Oh-h-h!  I don't know how anyone can ever live
+away from the sea!"
+
+In spite of the sun, though, the morning was cold, with a touch of frost
+in the air which nipped Mona's toes, and sent her scuttling back to her
+bed again.  She remembered, joyfully, from the old days, that if she
+propped herself up a little she could see the sea from her bed.
+So she lay with her pillow doubled up under her head, and the bedclothes
+drawn up to her chin, and gazed and gazed at the sea and sky, until
+presently she was on the sea, in a boat, floating through waves covered
+with diamonds, and the diamonds came pattering against the sides of the
+boat, as though inviting her to put out her hands and gather them up,
+and so become rich for ever.  Strangely enough, though, she did not heed,
+or care for them.  All she wanted was a big bunch of the forget-me-nots
+which grew on the opposite shore, and she rowed and rowed, with might and
+main, to reach the forget-me-nots, and she put up a sail and flew before
+the wind, yet no nearer could she get to the patch of blue and green.
+
+"But I can smell them!" she cried.  "I can smell them!" and then
+remembered that forget-me-nots had no scent and realised that the scent
+was that of the wallflowers growing in her own garden; and suddenly all
+the spirit went out of her, for she did not care for what she could reach,
+but only for the unattainable; and the oars dropped out of her hands, and
+the diamonds no longer tapped against the boat, for the boat was still,
+and Mona sat in it disappointed and sullen.  The sun went in too,
+and nothing was the same but the scent of the flowers.  And then, through
+her sullen thoughts, the sound of her father's voice came to her.
+
+"Mona! Mona!  It's eight o'clock.  Ain't you getting up yet? I want you to
+see about the breakfast.  Your mother isn't well."
+
+Mona jumped up with a start, and felt rather cross in consequence.
+"All right, father," she called back.  "I'll come as soon as I can,"
+but to herself she added, in an injured tone, "I s'pose this is what I've
+been had home for!  Hard lines, I call it, to have to get up and light the
+fire the very first morning."
+
+Her father called through the door again.  "The fire's lighted, and
+burning nicely, and I've put the kettle on.  I lighted it before I went
+out.  I didn't call 'ee then, because I thought I heard you moving."
+
+Then her father had been up and dressed for an hour or two, and at work
+already!  A faint sense of shame crossed Mona's mind.  "All right,
+father," she called back more amiably, "I'll dress as quick as I can.
+I won't be more than a few minutes."
+
+"That's a good maid," with a note of relief in his voice, and then she
+heard him go softly down the stairs.
+
+It always takes one a little longer than usual to dress in a strange
+place, but it took Mona longer than it need have done, for instead of
+unpacking her box the night before, and hanging up her frocks, and putting
+her belongings neatly away in their places, she had just tumbled
+everything over anyhow, to get at her nightdress, and so had left them.
+It had taken her quite as long to find the nightdress as it would have to
+lift the things out and put them in their proper places, for the garment
+was almost at the bottom of the box, but Mona did not think of that.
+Now, though, when she wanted to find her morning frock and apron, she grew
+impatient and irritable.  "Perhaps if I tip everything out on the floor
+I'll find the old things that way!" she snapped crossly.  "I s'pose I
+shan't find them until they've given me all the trouble they can,"
+and she had actually thrown a few things in every direction, when she
+suddenly stopped and sat back on her heels.
+
+"I've half a mind to put on my best dress again, then I can come and look
+for the old one when I ain't in such a hurry."  The dress--her best one--
+was lying temptingly on a chair close beside her.  She hesitated,
+looked at it again, and picked it up.  As she did so, something fell out
+of the pocket.  It was her purse, the little blue one her granny had
+bought for her at Christmas.  She picked it up and opened it, and as she
+did so the colour rushed over her face.  In one of the pockets was the
+eighteenpence which had been given to her to pay John Darbie with.
+"I--I suppose I ought to have given it to mother, but it went right out of
+my head."  She completed her dressing in a thoughtful mood, but she did
+find, and put on, her old morning dress.  "I suppose I had better tell
+her--about the money."  She put the blue purse in a drawer, however,
+and tossed in a lot of things on top of it.
+
+When at last she got downstairs it was already past half-past eight,
+and the fire was burning low again.  "Oh, dear," she cried, irritably,
+"how ever am I going to get breakfast with a fire like that and how am I
+to know what to get or where anything is kept. I think I might have had a
+day or two given me to settle down in.  I s'pose I'd better get some
+sticks first and make the fire up.  Bother the old thing, it only went out
+just to vex me!"
+
+She was feeling hungry and impatient, and out of tune with everything.
+At Hillside she would have been just sitting down to a comfortable meal
+which had cost her no trouble to get.  For the moment she wished she was
+back there again.
+
+As she returned to the kitchen with her hands full of wood, her mother
+came down the stairs.  She looked very white and ill, and very fragile,
+but she was fully dressed.
+
+"I thought you were too bad to get up," said Mona, unsmilingly.
+"I was going to bring you up some breakfast as soon as I could,
+but the silly old fire was gone down----"
+
+"I was afraid it would.  That was why I got up.  I couldn't be still,
+I was so fidgeted about your father's breakfast.  He'll be home for it in
+a few minutes.  He's had a busy morning, and must want something."
+
+Mona looked glummer than ever.  "I never had to get up early at granny's,"
+she said in a reproachful voice.  "I ain't accustomed to it.  I s'pose I
+shall have to get so."
+
+"Did you let your grandmother--did your grandmother come down first and
+get things ready for you?" asked Lucy, surprised; and something in her
+voice, or words, made Mona feel ashamed, instead of proud of the fact.
+
+"Granny liked getting up early," she said, excusingly.  Lucy did not make
+any comment, and Mona felt more ashamed than if she had.
+
+"Hasn't father had his breakfast yet?" she asked presently.  "He always
+used to come home for it at eight."
+
+"He did to-day, but you see there wasn't any.  The fire wasn't lighted
+even.  He thought you were dressing, and he wouldn't let me get up.
+When he'd lighted the fire he went off to work again.  He's painting his
+boat, and he said he'd finish giving her her first coat before he'd stop
+again; then she could be drying.  I'll manage better another morning.
+I daresay I'll feel better to-morrow."
+
+Lucy did look very unwell, and Mona's heart was touched.  "I wish father
+had told me earlier," she said in a less grumbling tone.  "I was awake at
+seven, and got up and looked out of the window.  I never thought of
+dressing then, it seemed so early, and I didn't hear father moving."
+
+"Never mind, dear, we will manage better another time.  It's nice having
+you home, Mona; the house seems so much more cheerful.  You will be a
+great comfort to us, I know."
+
+Mona's ill-temper vanished.  "I do want to be," she said shyly, "and I am
+glad to be home.  Oh, mother, it was lovely to see the sea again.
+I felt--oh, I can't tell you how I felt when I first caught a glimpse of
+it.  I don't know how ever I stayed away so long."
+
+Lucy laughed ruefully.  "I wish I loved it like that," she said, "but I
+can't make myself like it even.  It always makes me feel miserable."
+
+A heavy step was heard on the cobbled path outside, and for a moment a big
+body cut off the flood of sunshine pouring in at the doorway.
+"Is breakfast ready?" demanded Peter Carne's loud, good-tempered voice.
+"Hullo, Lucy!  Then you got up, after all!  Well--of all the obstinate
+women!"
+
+Lucy smiled up at him bravely.  "Yes, I've got down to breakfast.
+I thought I'd rather have it down here with company than upstairs alone.
+Isn't it nice having Mona home, father?"
+
+Peter laughed.  "I ain't going to begin by spoiling the little maid with
+flattery, but yet, 'tis very," and he beamed good-naturedly on both.
+"Now, then, let's begin.  I'm as hungry as a hunter."
+
+By that time the cloth was laid, a dish of fried bacon and bread was
+keeping hot in the oven, and smelling most appetisingly to hungry folk,
+and the kettle was about to boil over.  Through the open doorway the
+sunshine and the scent of wallflowers poured in.
+
+"Them there wallflowers beat anything I ever came across for smell,"
+remarked Peter as he finished his second cup of tea.
+
+"I dreamed about wallflowers," said Mona, "and I seemed to smell them
+quite strong," and she told them her dream--at least a part of it.
+She left out about the forget-me-nots that she rowed and rowed to try and
+get.  She could not have told why she left out that part, but already a
+vague thought had come to her--one that she was ashamed of, even though it
+was so vague, and it had to do with forget-me-nots.
+
+All the time she had been helping about the breakfast, and all the time
+after, when she and her stepmother were alone again, she kept saying to
+herself, "Shall I give her the money, shall I keep it?" and her heart
+would thrill, and then sink, and inside her she kept saying, "There is no
+harm in it?--It is all the same in the end."  And then, almost before
+she knew what she was doing, she had taken the easy, crooked, downhill
+path, with its rocks and thorns so cleverly hidden.
+
+"Mona, haven't you got any print frocks for mornings, and nice aprons?"
+
+Mona's thoughts came back suddenly from "Shall I?  Shall I not?" and the
+eyes with which she looked at her mother were half shamed, half
+frightened.  "Any--any what?" she stuttered.
+
+"Nice morning aprons and washing frocks?  I don't like to see shabby,
+soiled ones, even for only doing work in."
+
+"I hadn't thought about it," said Mona, with more interest.  "What else
+can one wear?  I nearly put on my best one, but I thought I hadn't
+better."
+
+"Oh, no, not your best."
+
+"Well, what else is there to wear?  Do you always have a print one like
+you've got on now?"
+
+"Yes, and big aprons, and sleeves.  Then one can tell when they are
+dirty."
+
+"Oh, I thought you put on that 'cause you were wearing out what you'd got
+left over.  You were in service, weren't you, before you married father?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I haven't got any print dresses.  I haven't even got a white one.
+I've two aprons like this," holding out a fanciful thing trimmed with
+lace.  "That's all, and I never saw any sleeves; I don't know what they
+are like."
+
+"I'll have to get you some as soon as father has his next big haul.
+You'd like to wear nice clean prints, if you'd got them, wouldn't you?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" eagerly.  But after a moment she added: "I do want a summer
+hat, though, and I don't s'pose I could have both?"  Her eyes sought her
+mother's face anxiously.  Lucy looked grave and a little troubled.
+"Wasn't that your summer hat that you had on yesterday?  It was a very
+pretty one.  I'm so fond of wreaths of daisies and grasses, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes--I was--I'm tired of them now.  I wore that hat a lot last summer."
+
+"Did you?  Well, you kept it very nicely.  I thought it was a new one, it
+looked so fresh and pretty."
+
+"I'd like to have one trimmed with forget-me-nots this year," Mona went on
+hurriedly, paying no heed to her mother's last remarks.
+
+"They are very pretty," agreed Lucy, absently.  In her mind she was
+wondering how she could find the money for all these different things.
+
+"I've got eighteenpence," broke in Mona, and the plunge was taken.
+She was keeping the eighteen-pence, though she knew it belonged either to
+her granny or to Lucy.  As soon as the words were spoken she almost wished
+them back again, but it was too late, and she went on her downhill way.
+
+"Mother, if you'll get me the hat, I'll buy the wreath myself.  They've
+got some lovely ones down at Tamlin's for one and five three.  There are
+some at one and 'leven three, but that's sixpence more, and I haven't got
+enough."
+
+"Very well, dear, we'll think about it.  It's early yet for summer hats."
+She was trying to think of things she could do without, that Mona might
+have her hat.  If she had been her own child, she would have told her
+plainly that she did not need, and could not have a new one, but it was
+not easy--as things were--to do that.
+
+Mona's heart leaped with joy.  Though she had known Lucy such a little
+while, she somehow felt that she could trust her not to forget.
+That when she said she would think about a thing, she would think about
+it, and already she saw with her mind's eye, the longed-for hat, the blue
+wreath, and the bow of ribbon, and her face beamed with happiness.
+
+"I can do without the aprons and the print frocks," she said, in the
+generosity of her heart, though it gave her a wrench.  But Lucy would not
+hear of that.  She had her own opinion about the grubby-looking blue
+serge, and the fancy apron, which were considered 'good enough' for
+mornings.
+
+"No, dear, you need them more than you need the hat.  If ever anyone
+should be clean it's when one is making beds, and cooking, and doing all
+that sort of thing, I think, don't you?"
+
+Mona had never given the subject a thought before.  In fact, she had done
+so little work while with her grandmother, and when she 'kept house'
+herself had cared so little about appearance or cleanliness, or anything,
+that it had never occurred to her that such things mattered.  But now that
+her stepmother appealed to her in this way she felt suddenly a sense of
+importance and a glow of interest.
+
+"Oh, yes! and I'll put my hair up, and always have on a nice white apron
+and a collar; they do look so pretty over pink frocks, don't they?"
+
+"Yes, and I must teach you how to wash and get them up."
+
+"Oh!"  Mona's interest grew suddenly lukewarm.  "I hate washing and
+ironing, don't you, mother?"
+
+"I like other kinds of work better, perhaps.  I think I should like the
+washing if I didn't get so tired with it.  I don't seem to have the
+strength to do it as I want it done.  It is lovely, though, to see things
+growing clean under one's hand, isn't it?"
+
+But Mona had never learnt to take pride in her work.  "I don't know,"
+she answered indifferently.  "I should never have things that were
+always wanting washing."
+
+Lucy rose to go about her morning's work.  "Oh, come now," she said,
+smiling, "I can't believe that.  Don't you think your little room looks
+prettier with the white vallance and quilt and the frill across the window
+than it would without?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" Mona agreed enthusiastically.  "But then I didn't have to wash
+them and iron them."
+
+"Well, I had to, and I enjoyed it, because I was thinking how nice they
+would make your room look, and how pleased you would be."
+
+"I don't see that.  If you were doing them for yourself, of course, you'd
+be pleased, but I can't see why anyone should be pleased about what other
+people may like."
+
+"Oh, Mona! can't you?"  Lucy looked amazed.  "Haven't you ever heard the
+saying, 'there is more pleasure in giving than in receiving'?"
+
+"Yes, I think I've heard it," said Mona, flippantly, "but I never saw any
+sense in it.  There's lots of things said that ain't a bit true."
+
+"This is true enough," said Lucy quietly, "and I hope you'll find it so
+for yourself, or you will miss half the pleasure in life."
+
+"Well, I don't believe in any of those old sayings," retorted Mona,
+rising too.  "Anyway, receiving's good enough for me!" and she laughed
+boisterously, thinking she had said something new and funny.
+
+A little cloud rested for a moment on Lucy's face, but only for a moment.
+"It isn't nice to hear you speak like that, Mona," she said quietly,
+a note of pain in her voice, "but I can't make myself believe yet that you
+are as selfish as you make out.  I believe," looking across at her
+stepdaughter with kindly, smiling eyes, "that you've got as warm a heart
+as anybody, really."
+
+And at the words and the look all the flippant, silly don't-careishness
+died out of Mona's thoughts and manner.
+
+Yet, presently, when in her own little room again, she opened her little
+blue purse and looked in it, a painful doubt arose in her mind.  It was
+nice to be considered good-hearted, but was she really so?
+And unselfish?  "If I was, wouldn't I make my last year's hat do?
+Wouldn't I give back the eighteenpence?"  What tiresome questions they
+were to come poking and pushing forward so persistently.  Anyhow, her
+mother knew now that she wanted a hat, and she knew that she had the
+money, and that she was going to spend it on herself--and yet she had
+called her unselfish!
+
+And downstairs, Lucy, with an anxious face, and a weight at her heart, was
+thinking to herself, "If Mona had lived much longer the idle, selfish life
+she has been living, her character would have been ruined, and there is so
+much that is good in her!  Poor child, poor Mona!  She has never had a
+fair chance yet to learn to show the best side of her, and I doubt if I'm
+the one to teach her.  I couldn't be hard with her if I tried, and being
+her stepmother will make things more difficult for me than for most.
+I couldn't live in the house with strife.  I must try other means, and,"
+she added softly, "ask God to help me."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+For a while, after that talk with her mother, Mona worked with a will.
+She swept, and scrubbed, and polished the stove and the windows and helped
+with the washing and ironing, until Lucy laughingly declared there would
+soon be nothing left for her to do.
+
+"That's just what I want," declared Mona.  "I want you not to have
+anything to do.  Perhaps I can't manage the cooking yet, but I'll learn to
+in time."  Excited by the novelty and change, and buoyed up by the
+prospect of her new hat, and new frocks and aprons too, she felt she could
+do anything, and could not do enough in return for all that was to be done
+for her, and, when Mona made up her mind to work, there were few who could
+outdo her.  She would go on until she was ready to drop.
+
+As the spring days grew warmer, she would get so exhausted that Lucy
+sometimes had to interfere peremptorily, and make her stop.  "Now you sit
+right down there, out of the draught, and don't you move a foot till I
+give you leave.  I will get you a nice cup of tea, and one of my new
+tarts; they're just this minute ready to come out of the oven."
+
+A straight screen, reaching from floor to ceiling, stood at one side of
+the door, to keep off some of the draught and to give some little privacy
+to those who used the kitchen.  Mona dried her hands and slipped
+gratefully into the chair that stood between the screen and the end of the
+table.
+
+"Oh, mother, this is nice," she sighed, her face radiant, though her
+shoulders drooped a little with tiredness.
+
+"Isn't it beautiful?  I love these sunny, quiet afternoons, when
+everything is peaceful, and the sea quite calm."  Her eyes looked beyond
+the little kitchen to the steep, sunny street outside, and beyond that
+again to where the blue sea heaved and glittered in the distance.
+The little window, as well as the door, stood wide open, letting in the
+scent of the sun-warmed wallflowers, and box, and boy's love.
+The bees buzzed contentedly over the beds.  One made his way in to Lucy's
+plants in the window.
+
+"I seem to smell the sea even through the scent of the flowers,"
+said Lucy.
+
+"I am sure I do.  I can't think how people can choose to live inland, can
+you, mother?"
+
+"I don't suppose they choose, they just live where God has seen fit to
+place them--where their work lies."
+
+"Well, I hope my work will always be in some place near the sea," said
+Mona decidedly.  "I don't think I could live away from it."
+
+Lucy smiled.  "I think you could, dear, if you made up your mind to it!
+I am sure you are not a coward."
+
+"I don't see that it has got anything to do with being a coward or not,"
+objected Mona.
+
+"But indeed it has.  If people can't face things they don't like without
+grumbling all the time they are cowards.  It is as cruel and cowardly to
+keep on grumbling and complaining about what you don't like as it is brave
+to face it and act so that people never guess what your real feelings are.
+Think of my mother now.  She loved living in a town, with all that there
+is to see and hear and interest one, and, above all, she loved London.
+It was home to her, and every other place was exile.  Yet when, after they
+had been married a couple of years, her husband made up his mind to live
+right away in the country, she never grumbled, though she must have felt
+lonely and miserable many a time.  Her mother, and all belonging to her,
+lived in London, and I know she had a perfect dread of the country.
+She was afraid of the loneliness.  Then my father tried his hand at
+farming and lost all his savings, and after that there was never a penny
+for anything but the barest of food and clothing, and sometimes not enough
+even for that.  Well, I am quite sure that no one ever heard a word of
+complaint from mother's lips, and when poor father reproached himself,
+as he did very often, with having brought ruin on her, she'd say,
+'Tom, I married you for better or worse, for richer or poorer.  I didn't
+marry you on condition you stayed always in one place and earned so much a
+week.'"
+
+"Mother didn't think she was being brave by always keeping a cheerful face
+and a happy heart--but father did, and I do, now.  I understand things
+better than I did.  I can see there's ever so much more bravery in denying
+yourself day after day what you want, and bearing willingly what you don't
+like, than there is in doing some big deed that you carry through on the
+spur of the moment."
+
+Mona sat silent, gazing out across the flowers in the window to the sky
+beyond.  "There's ever so much more bravery in denying yourself what you
+want."  The words rang in her head most annoyingly.  Could Lucy have
+spoken them on purpose?  No, Mona honestly did not think that, but she
+wished she had not uttered them.  She tried to think of something else,
+and, unconsciously, her mother helped her.
+
+"I want to go to see mother on Monday or Tuesday, if I can.  Do you think
+you'll mind being left here alone for a few hours?"
+
+Mona looked round at her with a smile.  "Why, of course not!  I used to
+spend hours here alone.  I'll find plenty to do while you're gone.
+I'll write to granny, for one thing.  I promised I would.  I could take up
+some of the weeds in the garden, too."
+
+She was eager to do something for her stepmother, so that she herself
+would feel more easy in her mind about the one thing she could not summon
+up courage to do.
+
+"Yes, if you'll do a little weeding it'll be fine.  I'm ashamed to see our
+path, and the wallflowers are nearly choked, but I daren't do it.
+I can't stoop so long."
+
+On Sunday Mona went to Sunday school for the first time, and was not a
+little pleased to find that her last year's hat, with the daisy wreath,
+was prettier than any other hat there.  With every admiring glance she
+caught directed at it her spirits rose.  She loved to feel that she was
+admired and envied.  It never entered her head that she made some of the
+children feel mortified and discontented with their own things.
+
+"If they think such a lot of this one, I wonder what they'll think of me
+having another new one soon!"  To conceal the elation in her face,
+she bent over her books, pretending to be absorbed in the lesson.
+Miss Lester, the teacher, looked at her now and again with grave,
+questioning eyes.  She was wondering anxiously if this little stranger was
+going to bring to an end the peace and contentment of the class.
+"Is she going to make my poor children realise how poor and shabby their
+clothes are, and fill their heads with thoughts of dress?"  She said
+nothing aloud, however.  She was only a little kinder, perhaps, to the
+most shabby of them all.
+
+Mona, who had been quite conscious of her teacher's glances, never doubted
+but that they were glances of admiration, and was, in consequence,
+extremely pleased.  She returned home quite elated by her Sunday
+afternoon's experiences.
+
+The next day, at about eleven, Lucy started on her three mile walk to her
+mother's.
+
+"Isn't it too far for you?" asked Mona, struck anew by her stepmother's
+fragile appearance.  "Hadn't you better put it off till you're stronger?"
+
+But Lucy shook her head.  "Oh, no, I shall manage it.  If I go to-day I
+shall be able to have a lift home in Mr. Lobb's cart.  It's his day.
+So I shall only have three miles to walk, and I do want to see mother.
+She has been so bad again."
+
+Mona did not try any more to stop her, but bustled around helping her to
+get ready.  "If you hadn't been going to drive back, I'd have come to meet
+you.  Never mind, I expect I'll be very busy," and she smiled to herself
+at the thought of all she was going to do, and of the nice clean kitchen
+and tempting meal she would have ready by the time Mr. Lobb's cart
+deposited Lucy at the door again.
+
+"Now, don't do too much, and tire yourself out, dear," said Lucy,
+warningly.  "There isn't really much that needs doing," but Mona smiled
+knowingly.
+
+As soon as Lucy had really started and was out of sight, she washed and
+put away the few cups and plates, and swept up the hearth.  Then, getting
+a little garden fork and an old mat, she sallied forth to the garden.
+There certainly were a good many weeds in the path, and, as the ground was
+trodden hard, they were not easy to remove.  Those in the flower beds were
+much easier.
+
+"I'll do the beds first," thought Mona.  "After all, that's the right way
+to begin."  So she dug away busily for some time, taking great care to dig
+deep, and lift the roots right out.  "While I am about it, I may as well
+turn all the earth over to make it nice and soft for the flowers.
+I don't know how they ever manage to grow in such hard, caked old stuff,
+poor little things."
+
+Here and there a 'poor little thing' came up root and all, as well as the
+weed, or instead of it, but Mona quickly put it back again, and here and
+there one had its roots torn away and loosened.  In fact, most of Lucy's
+plants found themselves wrenched from the cool, moist earth they loved,
+and their hold on life gone.  Presently Mona came to a large patch of
+forget-me-nots.  The flowers were not yet out, but there was plenty of
+promise for by and by.  It was not, though, the promise of buds, nor the
+plant itself which caused Mona to cease her work suddenly, and sit back on
+her heels, lost in thought.
+
+"I've a good mind to go down now this minute and get it," she exclaimed
+eagerly, "while mother's away.  Buying a hat won't seem much if she hasn't
+got to buy the trimmings.  And--and if--if I don't get the wreath,
+Mr. Tamlin may--may sell it before mother goes there."
+
+This fear made her spring from her knees.  Without any further hesitation,
+she rushed, into the house, washed and tidied herself, got her blue purse
+from the drawer in which it was still hidden, and in ten minutes from the
+moment the thought first struck her she was hurrying down the street,
+leaving the mat and the fork where she had been using them.  But she could
+think of nothing.  Indeed, she could scarcely breathe for excitement until
+she reached Tamlin's shop, and, to her enormous relief, saw the blue
+wreaths still hanging there.
+
+"Of course, it is much the best way to buy it now and take it home,"
+Mona argued with herself.  "It will only get dirty and faded where it is."
+
+She felt a little nervous at entering the big shop by herself, especially
+as she seemed to be the only customer, and the attendants had no one else
+at whom to stare.  She went up to the one who had the pleasantest smile
+and looked the least grand of them all.
+
+"Forget-me-nots?  Oh, yes, dear, we have some lovely flowers this season,
+all new in.  Perhaps you'd prefer roses.  We have some beautiful roses,
+pink, red, yellow, and white ones--and wreaths, we have some sweet
+wreaths, moss and rose buds, and sweet peas and grasses."  She proceeded
+to drag out great boxes full of roses of all shapes and kinds.
+Mona looked at them without interest.  "No, thank you I want
+forget-me-nots."
+
+"Oh, well, there's no harm in looking at the others, is there?  I've got
+some sweet marg'rites too.  I'll show you.  P'raps you'll change your mind
+when you see them.  Blue ties you so, doesn't it?"
+
+"I've got daisies on a hat already.  I'm tired of them.  I want something
+different."
+
+"Of course, we all like a change, don't we?  I'll show you a wreath--
+perfectly sweet it is, apple-blossom and leaves; it might be real, it's so
+perfect."  And away she went again for another box.
+
+Mona felt as though her eighteenpence was shrivelling smaller and smaller.
+It seemed such a ridiculously small sum to have come shopping with, and
+she wished she had never done so.  The girl dropped a huge box on the
+counter, and whipped the cover off.  She was panting a little from the
+weight of it.  Mona longed to sink out of sight, she was so ashamed of the
+trouble she was giving, and only eighteenpence to spend after all!
+
+"There, isn't that sweet, and only three and eleven three."
+
+But Mona was by this time feeling so ashamed and bothered and
+uncomfortable, she would not bring herself to look at the flowers.
+"Yes, thank you, it's very pretty, but--but--it's too dear--and--I want
+forget-me-nots."
+
+Then, summoning up all the courage she had left,  "You've got some wreaths
+for one and fivepence three-farthings; it's one of those I want."
+
+The girl's face changed, and her manner too.  "Oh, it's one of the cheap
+wreaths you want, like we've got in the window," and from another box she
+dragged out one of the kind Mona had gazed at so longingly, and, without
+handing it to her to look at, popped it into a bag, screwed up the top,
+and pushed it across the counter.  "One and five three," she snapped
+rudely, and, while Mona was extracting her eighteenpence from her purse,
+she turned to another attendant who had been standing looking on and
+listening all the time.
+
+"Miss Jones, dear, will you help me put all these boxes away."
+
+Mona noticed the sneer in her voice, the glances the two exchanged.
+She saw, too, Miss Jones's pitying smile and toss of her head, and she
+walked out of the shop with burning cheeks and a bursting heart.
+She longed passionately to throw down the wreath she carried and trample
+on it--and as for Tamlin's shop!  She felt that nothing would ever induce
+her to set foot inside it again.
+
+Poor Mona, as she hurried up the street with her longed-for treasure--now
+detestable in her eyes--all the sunshine and happiness seemed to have gone
+out of her days.  She went along quickly, with her head down.  She felt
+she did not want to see or speak to anyone just then.  She hurried through
+the garden, where the patch of newly-turned earth was already drying under
+the kiss of the sun, and the wallflowers were beginning to droop, but she
+saw nothing of it all.  She only wanted to get inside and shut and bolt
+the door, and be alone with herself and her anger.
+
+"There!" she cried passionately, flinging the wreath across the kitchen,
+"take that! I hate you--I hate the sight of you!"  She would have cried,
+but that she had made up her mind that she would not.  "I'll never wear
+the hateful thing--I couldn't!  If I was to meet that girl when I'd got it
+on I--I'd never get over it!  And there's all my money gone; wasted, and--
+and----"  At last the tears did come, in spite of her, and Mona's heart
+felt relieved.
+
+She picked out the paper bag from inside the fender, and, carrying it
+upstairs, thrust it inside the lid of her box.  "There! and I hope I'll
+never see the old thing ever any more, and then, p'raps, in time I'll
+forget all about it."
+
+As she went down the stairs again to the kitchen she remembered that her
+father would be home in a few minutes to his dinner, and that she had to
+boil some potatoes.  "Oh, dear--I wish--I wish----"  But what was the use
+of wishing!  She had the forget-me-nots she had so longed for--and what
+was the result!
+
+"I'll never, never wish for anything again," she thought ruefully,
+"but I suppose that wishing you'd got something, and wishing you
+hadn't forgot something, are two different things, though both make you
+feel miserable," she added gloomily.
+
+For a moment she sat, overwhelmed by all that she had done and had left
+undone.  The emptiness and silence of the house brought to her a sense of
+loneliness.  The street outside was empty and silent too, except for two
+old women who walked by with heavy, dragging steps.  One of the two was
+talking in a patient, pathetic voice, but loudly, for her companion was
+deaf.
+
+"There's no cure for trouble like work, I know that.  I've had more'n my
+share of trouble, and if it hadn't been that I'd got the children to care
+for, and my work cut out to get 'em bread to eat, I'd have give in;
+I couldn't have borne all I've had to bear----"
+
+The words reached Mona distinctly through the silence.  She rose to her
+feet.  "P'raps work'll help me to bear mine," she thought bitterly.
+"When my man and my two boys was drowned that winter, I'd have gone out of
+my mind if I hadn't had to work to keep a home for the others----"
+The voices died away in the distance, and Mona's bitterness died away too.
+
+"Her man, and her two boys--three of them dead, all drowned in one day--
+oh, how awful!  How awful!"  Mona's face blanched at the thought of the
+tragedy.  The very calmness with which it was told made it seem worse,
+more real, more inevitable.  Even the sunshine and peace about her made it
+seem more awful.  Compared with such a trouble, her own was too paltry.
+It was not a trouble at all.  She felt ashamed of herself for the fuss she
+had been making, and without more ado she bustled round to such good
+purpose that when her father returned to his meal she had it all cooked
+and ready to put on the table.
+
+"That's a good maid," he said, encouragingly.  "Why, you've grown a
+reg'lar handy little woman.  You'll be a grand help to your poor mother."
+
+"I do want to be," said Mona, but she did not feel as confident about it
+as her father did.  "I'm going to have everything ready for her by the
+time she gets home."
+
+"That's right, I shan't be home till morning, most likely, so you'll have
+to take care of her.  She'll be fairly tired out, what with walking three
+miles in the sun, and then being rattled about in Mr. Lobb's old cart.
+The roads ain't fit for a horse to travel over."
+
+"I should think she'd be here about six, shouldn't she, father?"
+
+"Yes, that's about the old man's time, but there's no reckoning on him for
+certain.  He may have to go a mile or more out of his way, just for one
+customer."
+
+Apparently that was what he had to do that day, for six came and went, and
+seven o'clock had struck, and darkness had fallen before the cart drew up
+at Cliff Cottage, and Lucy clambered stiffly down from her hard,
+uncomfortable seat.
+
+She was tired out and chilly, but at the sound of the wheels the cottage
+door was flung open, letting out a wide stream of cheerfulness, which made
+her heart glow and drove her weariness away.  Inside, the home all was
+neat and cosy, the fire burned brightly, and the table was laid ready
+for a meal.  Lucy drew a deep breath of happiness and relief.
+
+"Oh, it is nice to get home again," she sighed contentedly, "and most of
+all to find someone waiting for you, Mona dear."
+
+And Mona's heart danced with pleasure and happy pride.  She felt well
+repaid for all she had done.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+When Mona woke the next morning she felt vaguely that something was
+missing.  "Why it's the smell of the wallflowers!" she cried, after lying
+for some minutes wondering what it could be.  But in her new desire to get
+dressed and downstairs early she did not give the matter another thought.
+
+Lucy, coming down later, stepped to the door for a moment to breathe in
+the sunshine and sweet morning air.  "Oh," she cried, and her voice rang
+out sharply, full of dismay, "Oh, Mona, come quick.  Whatever has happened
+to our wallflowers!  Why, look at them!  They are all dead!  Oh, the poor
+things!  Someone must have pulled them up in sheer wickedness!  Isn't it
+cruel?  Isn't it shameful!"
+
+Mona, rushing to the door to look, found Lucy on her knees by the dying
+plants, the tears dropping from her eyes.  Only yesterday they were so
+happy and so beautiful, a rich carpet of brown, gold, tawny, and crimson,
+all glowing in the sunshine, and filling the air with their glorious
+scent--and now!  Oh, it was pitiful, pitiful.
+
+"I'll fill a tub with water and plunge them all in," cried Lucy,
+frantically collecting her poor favourites--then suddenly she dropped
+them.  "No, no, I won't, I'll bury them out of sight.  I could never give
+them new life.  Oh, who could have been so wicked?"
+
+Mona was standing beside her, white-faced and silent.  At her mother's
+last question, she opened her lips for the first time.  "I--I did it,"
+she gasped in a horrified voice.  "I--didn't know, I must have done it
+when I was weeding.  Oh, mother, I am so sorry.  What can I do--oh,
+what can I do!"
+
+"You!  Oh, Mona!"  But at the sight of Mona's distress Lucy forgot her
+own.
+
+"Never mind.  It can't be helped.  'Twas an accident, of course, and no
+one can prevent accidents.  Don't fret about it, dear.  Of course,
+you wouldn't have hurt them if you'd known what you were doing!"
+
+But her words failed to comfort Mona, for in her inmost heart she knew
+that she should have known better, that she could have helped it.
+It was just carelessness again.
+
+"They wouldn't have lasted more than a week or two longer, I expect,"
+added Lucy, consolingly, trying to comfort herself as well as Mona.
+"Now, we'll get this bed ready for the ten-weeks stocks.  It will do the
+ground good to rest a bit.  I daresay the stocks will be all the finer for
+it later on."  But still Mona was not consoled.
+
+"If I hadn't run away and left them to go and buy that hateful wreath,"
+she was thinking.  "If only I had remembered to press the earth tight
+round them again--if--if only I'd been more careful when I was weeding,
+and--if, if, if!  It's all ifs with me!"  Aloud, she said bitterly,
+"I only seem to do harm to everything I touch.  I'd better give up!
+If I don't do anything, p'raps I shan't do mischief."
+
+Lucy laughed.  "Poor old Paddy," she cried.  "Why, you couldn't live and
+not do anything.  Every minute of your life you are doing something, and
+when you are doing what you call 'nothing' you will be doing mischief,
+if it's only in setting a bad example.  And you can work splendidly if you
+like, Mona, and you _do_ like, I know.  I shan't forget for a long while
+how nice you'd got everything by the time I came home last night, and how
+early you got up this morning."
+
+Mona's face brightened.
+
+"You've got to learn to think, that's all, dear; and to remember to finish
+off one thing before you leave it to go to another.  It's just the want of
+that that lies at the root of most of your trouble."
+
+A sound of many feet hurrying along the street and of shouting voices made
+Lucy break off suddenly, and sent them both running to the gate.
+
+"Boats are in sight, missis.  Fine catch!" called one and another as they
+hurried along.
+
+Lucy and Mona looked at each other with glad relief in their eyes.
+There had been no real cause for anxiety because the little fishing fleet
+had not been home at dawn, yet now they knew that they had been a little
+bit anxious, Lucy especially, and their pleasure was all the greater.
+For a moment Mona, in her excitement, was for following the rest to the
+quay where the fish would be landed.  It was so exciting, such fun, to be
+in all the bustle of the unloading, and the selling--and to know that for
+a time, at any rate, money would not be scarce, and rent and food and
+firing would be secure.
+
+Mona loved nothing better than such mornings as this--but her first step
+was her last.  "I won't remember 'too late' this time," she said to
+herself determinedly, and turning, she made her way quickly into the
+house.  There would be more than enough to do to get ready.  There would
+be hot water, dry clothes, and a hot breakfast to get for the tired, cold,
+famished father.
+
+"Now you sit down, mother, and stoke the fire, I'll see to the rest," and
+for the next hour she flew around, doing one thing after another, and as
+deftly as a woman.  She was so busy and so happy she forgot all about the
+beach and the busy scene there, the excitement, and the fun.
+
+But before Lucy did any 'stoking' she went out with a rake and smoothed
+over the rough earth of the empty wallflower bed.  "If it's looking tidy,
+perhaps he won't notice anything's wrong when he first comes home,"
+she thought.  "When he's less tired he'll be able to bear the
+disappointment better."  She knew that if he missed his flowers one of his
+chief pleasures in his homecoming would be gone, and she almost dreaded to
+hear the sound of his footsteps because of the disappointment in store for
+him.  Because she could not bear to see it, she stayed in the kitchen,
+and only Mona went out to meet him.  Lucy heard his loved voice, hoarse
+and tired, but cheerful still.  "Hullo, my girl!" he cried, "how's mother,
+and how 'ave 'ee got on?  I was 'fraid she'd be troubling.  Hullo!  Why,
+what's happened to our wallflowers?"
+
+At the sound of the dismay in his voice, Lucy had to go out.  "Poor Mona,"
+she thought, "it's hard on her!  Why, father!" she cried brightly,
+standing in the doorway with a glad face and happy welcome.  "We're so
+glad to see you at last.  Make haste in, you must be tired to death, and
+cold through and through.  Mona's got everything ready for you, as nice as
+can be.  She's worked hard since we heard the boats were come.  We've all
+got good appetites for our breakfast, I guess."
+
+Then, in his pleasure at seeing his wife and child again, Peter Carne
+forgot all about his flowers.  Putting his arms around them both, he gave
+them each a hearty kiss, and all went in together.  "I ain't hardly fit
+to," he said, laughing, "but you're looking as fresh and sweet as two
+daisies this morning."
+
+Diving his hand deep into his pocket, he drew out a handful of gold and
+silver.  "Here, mother, here's something you'll be glad of!  Now, Mona, my
+girl," as he dropped into his arm-chair, "where's my old slippers?"
+
+Mona picked them up from the fender, where they had been warming, and,
+kneeling down, she pulled off his heavy boots.  Once more she was filled
+with the feeling that if she could only do something to make up for the
+harm she had done she would not feel so bad.
+
+"Thank'ee, little maid.  Oh, it's good to be home again!"  He leaned back
+and stretched his tired limbs with a sigh of deep content.  "But I mustn't
+stop here, I must go and have a wash, and change into dry things before I
+have my breakfast.  I can tell you, I'm more than a bit hungry.  When I've
+had it I've got to go down and clean out the boat."
+
+"Oh, not till you've had a few hours' sleep," coaxed Lucy.  "You must have
+some rest, father.  I've a good mind to turn the key on you."
+
+Her husband laughed too.  "There's no need for locks and keys to-day,"
+he said, ruefully.  "If I was to start out I believe I'd have to lie down
+in the road and have a nap before I got to the bottom of the street.
+I'll feel better when I've had a wash."
+
+As he stumbled out of the kitchen Lucy picked up the coins lying on the
+table, and put them in a little locked box in the cupboard.  Mona, coming
+back into the kitchen from putting her father's sea-boots away, saw that
+there seemed to be quite a large sum.
+
+"Shall I have my new hat?" she wondered eagerly.  "There's plenty of money
+now."  But Lucy only said, "I'll have to get wool to make some new
+stockings for your father, and a jersey, and I'll have to go to Baymouth
+to get it.  Mr. Tamlin doesn't keep the right sort.  Can you knit
+stockings, Mona?"
+
+"Ye--es, but I hate----"  She drew herself up sharply.  "Yes, I can, but
+I'd rather scrub, or sweep, or--or anything."
+
+"Never mind, I'll make them.  I'm fond of all that kind of work.
+I'll have to be quick about the jersey, for I see that one he's got on has
+a great hole in the elbow, and he's only got his best one besides.
+I'd better go to Baymouth on Wednesday.  It won't do to put it off."
+
+"I wish I could take you with me," she said to Mona regretfully when the
+Wednesday came, and she was getting ready to start.  "I would, only your
+father thinks he'll be back about tea-time, and he'll need a hot meal when
+he comes.  Never mind, dear, you shall go next time."
+
+"Oh--h--that's all right." Mona tried to speak cheerfully, but neither
+face nor voice looked or sounded all right!  The thought uppermost in her
+mind was that there was no chance of her having her new hat.  Her mother
+could not get that unless she was there to try it on.
+
+She saw her mother off, and she did try to be pleasant, but she could not
+help a little aggrieved feeling at her heart.
+
+"Granny would have bought me one before now," she said to herself.
+She did really want not to have such thoughts.  She still felt mean and
+uncomfortable about the wreath, and in her heart she knew that her
+stepmother was kinder to her than she deserved.
+
+When she had done the few things she had to do, and had had her dinner,
+and changed her frock, she went out into the garden.  It would be less
+lonely there, she thought, and she could weed the path a little.
+She would never touch one of the flower beds again!  Before she had been
+out there long, Millie Higgins came down the hill.  At the sight of Mona,
+Millie drew up.  "So you ain't gone to Baymouth too?" she said, leaning
+over the low stone wall, and evidently prepared for a talk.  "I saw your
+mother starting off.  Why didn't she take you with her?  You'd have liked
+to have gone, wouldn't you?"
+
+"Yes," Mona admitted.
+
+"Well, why didn't you?"
+
+"Somebody had to be here to look after father.  He'll be home before
+mother gets back."
+
+Millie Higgins snorted sarcastically.  "Very nice for some people to be
+able to go off and enjoy themselves and leave others to look after things
+for them!  If I were you I'd say I'd like to go too."
+
+Mona resented Millie's tone.  A sense of fairness rose within her too.
+"If I'd said I wanted to go, I daresay I could have gone," she retorted
+coldly.  "I'm going another time."
+
+"Oh, are you?  Well, that's all right as long as you are satisfied,"
+meaningly.  "Good-bye," and with a nod Millie took herself off.
+But before she had gone more than a few paces she was back again.
+
+"Come on out and play for a bit, won't you?"
+
+"I'd like to," Mona hesitated, "but I don't know for certain what time
+father'll get back."
+
+"Well, I do!  I know they won't be home yet awhile.  They'll wait till the
+tide serves.  Come along, Mona, you might as well come out and play for
+half an hour as stick moping here.  You might spend all your life waiting
+about for the old boats to come in, and never have a bit of pleasure if
+you don't take it when you can.  We'll go down to the quay, then you'll be
+able to see the boats coming.  After they're in sight there'll be heaps of
+time to run home and get things ready."
+
+The temptation was great, too great.  Mona loved the quay, and the life
+and cheerfulness there.  Towards evening all the children in the place
+congregated there, playing 'Last touch,' 'Hop-Scotch,' and all the rest of
+the games they loved, to a chorus of shouts, and screams, and laughter.
+Then there was the sea to look at too, so beautiful and grand, and
+awe-inspiring in the fading light.  Oh, how dearly she loved it all!
+
+In her ears Millie's words still rang: "You might spend all your life
+waiting about for the old boats, and never have a bit of pleasure, if you
+don't take it when you can."
+
+"Wait a minute," she said eagerly, "I'll just put some coal on the fire
+and get my hat."
+
+She banked up a good fire, unhung her hat, and, pulling the door after
+her, ran out to Millie again, "I'm ready now," she said excitedly.
+
+When they arrived at the quay they received a very warm welcome; they were
+just in time to take part in a game of 'Prisoners.'  After that they had
+one of 'Tip,' and one or two of 'Hop-Scotch,' then 'Prisoners' again; and
+how many more Mona could never remember, for she had lost count of time,
+and everything but the fun, until she was suddenly brought to her senses
+by a man's voice saying, "Well, it's time they were in, the clock struck
+seven ten minutes agone."
+
+"Seven!" Mona was thunderstruck.  "Did you say seven?" she gasped, and
+scarcely waiting for an answer she took to her heels and tore up the
+street to her home.  Her mind was full of troubled thoughts.  The fire
+would be out, the house all in darkness.  She had only pulled the front
+door behind her, she had not locked it.  Oh, dear! what a number of things
+she had left undone!  What a muddle she had made of things.  When, as she
+drew near the house, she saw a light shining from the kitchen window, her
+heart sank lower than ever it had done before.
+
+"Father must have come!  Oh! and me not there, and--and nothing ready.
+Oh, I wouldn't have had it happen for anything."  She rushed up to the
+house so fast and burst into the kitchen so violently that her mother, who
+was sitting in her chair, apparently lost in thought, sprang up in alarm.
+
+"Oh, Mona! it's you!  You frightened me so, child.  Where's your father,"
+she asked anxiously.  "Haven't you seen him?"
+
+"No, he hasn't come yet."
+
+Lucy's face grew as white as a lily.  Her eyes were full of terror, which
+always haunted her.  "P'raps he came home while you were out, and went out
+again when he found the house empty."
+
+"He couldn't.  I've been on the quay all the time.  The boats couldn't
+have come in without my seeing them.  I was waiting for him.  Everybody
+was saying how late they were.  They couldn't think why."
+
+"Yes--they are dreadfully late--but I--I didn't think you'd have gone out
+and left the house while I was away," said Lucy with gentle reproach.
+"But, as you did, you should have locked the door behind you.  I s'pose
+Mr. King called before you left?"
+
+"He hasn't been," faltered Mona, her heart giving a great throb.  She had
+entirely forgotten that the landlord's agent was coming for his rent that
+afternoon.  "The money's on the dresser.  I put it there."
+
+"Is it? I couldn't see it.  I looked for it at once when I found the door
+wide open and nobody here."
+
+"Open!  I shut it after me.  I didn't lock it, but I pulled the door fast
+after me.  You can't have looked in the right place, mother.  I put it by
+the brown jug."  And, never doubting but that her mother had overlooked
+it, Mona searched the dressers herself.  But there was no money on them,
+not even a farthing for the baker.  "But I put it there!  I put it there
+myself!" she kept repeating more and more frantically.  She got upon a
+chair and searched every inch of every shelf, and turned every jug and cup
+upside down.  "It _must_ be somewhere."
+
+"Yes, somewhere!  But it isn't here, and it isn't in Mr. King's pocket."
+Poor Lucy sank back in her chair looking ready to faint.  Five shillings
+meant much to her.  It was so horrible, too, to feel that a thief had been
+in, and had perhaps gone all over the house.  Who could say what more he
+had taken, or what mischief he had done.
+
+She was disappointed also in her trust in Mona, and she was tired and
+faint from want of food.  All her pleasure in her day and in her
+homecoming was gone, changed to worry and weariness and disappointment.
+
+"But who can have been so wicked as to take it!" cried Mona passionately.
+"Nobody had any right to open our door and come into our house.
+It's hard to think one can't go out for a few minutes but what somebody
+must come and act dishonest----"
+
+"We can't talk about others not doing right if we don't do right
+ourselves!  Your father and I left you here in charge, and you undertook
+the charge.  We trusted you."
+
+Mona got down from the chair.  "It's very hard if I can't ever go
+anywhere--I only went for a little while.  Millie said father wouldn't be
+here--the boats weren't in sight.  And you see she was right!  They are
+ever so late."
+
+"Well, I suppose we are all made differently, but I couldn't have played
+games knowing that the boats ought to have been in, and not knowing what
+might have happened to my father."
+
+"I get tired of always sticking around, waiting on the old boats.  I never
+thought of there being any danger, they're so often late.  It was only
+towards the end that people came down looking for them and wondering."
+
+Lucy groaned.  "Well, I'm thankful you don't suffer as I do, child.
+P'raps I'm foolish, but I'm terrified of the sea, and I never get
+accustomed to the danger of it."  And she looked so white and wan, Mona's
+heart was touched, and some of the sullenness died out of her face and
+voice.
+
+"I never thought--there was only a little wind," she began, when a sharp
+rap at the door interrupted her, then the latch was raised, and the door
+opened briskly.  "Boats are in sight, Mrs. Carne! and all's well!" cried a
+voice cheerfully, and old Job Maunders popped his grizzled head round the
+screen.  "I thought you might be troubling, ma'am, so I just popped 'fore
+to tell 'ee.  I'm off down to see if I can lend a hand."
+
+And before Lucy could thank him, the kindly old man was hurrying away
+through the garden and down the street.
+
+But what changed feelings he had left behind him!  Tired though she was,
+Lucy was on her feet in a moment and her face radiant.  "Come, dear, we've
+got to bustle round now for a bit.  You run and get some sticks and make a
+good fire, and I'll get out his clean, dry things.  Then while I'm cooking
+the supper you can be laying the cloth."
+
+While she spoke she was gathering up a lot of parcels which were lying
+scattered over the table.
+
+"I'm longing to show you what I've bought."
+
+"Yes," thought Mona, "and I am longing to see!"
+
+"I wonder if you'll like what I've chosen for you."
+
+"I wonder, too!" thought Mona.
+
+"We'll have a good look at everything when we've had supper.  Then we
+needn't be hurrying and scurrying all the time, and there'll be more
+room."
+
+In spite of the upset to her feelings, Mona was interested, but all real
+pleasure was gone.  She knew that probably there was something for her in
+one of the fat parcels, but the thought of taking any more kindness from
+Lucy, to whom she had behaved so badly, was painful.  She wanted, instead,
+to make amends to replace the lost five shillings.  She longed to have the
+money to pay back, but she had not one penny!  All she could do was to
+work, and to go without things she wanted.  She could do the first better
+than the last, and she would rather.  She did not really mind working,
+but she did mind denying herself things she had set her heart on.
+"But I will, I will," she thought to herself while the shock of the theft
+was still on her.
+
+Before very long the fire was burning brightly, the kettle was beginning
+to sing, and Lucy was cooking the sausages and bacon she had brought back
+with her from Baymouth.  The savoury smell of them wafted through the
+kitchen and reached the hungry, weary man trudging heavily up the garden.
+Then Mona caught the sound of his coming, and rushed out, while Lucy stood
+behind her with radiant face and glowing eyes.
+
+"You must be chilled to the bone, and dead beat," she cried.  "Ain't you,
+father?"
+
+"I thought I was--but I ain't now.  It's worth everything just for the
+pleasure of coming back to a home like mine, my girl."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Mona was growing more and more impatient.  "Grown-ups do take so long over
+everything," she thought irritably.  "If it gets much later mother will
+say, 'there isn't time to open the parcels to-night, we must wait till
+morning!'  Oh, dear!"
+
+It was long past eight before they had sat down to their meal, and then,
+her father and mother both being very tired, they took it in such a
+leisurely fashion that Mona thought they never would have finished.
+They, of course, were glad to sit still and talk of their day's doings,
+but Mona, as soon as her hunger was satisfied, was simply longing to be up
+and examining the contents of the tempting-looking parcels which had
+waited so long on the side-table.
+
+She fidgeted with her knife and fork, she rattled her cup and shuffled
+her feet, but still her father went on describing his adventures,
+and still Lucy sat listening eagerly.  To them this was the happiest and
+most restful time of the day.  The day's work was done, duty would not
+call to them again until morning.  The kitchen was warm and comfortable.
+It was just the right time for a leisurely talk, but Mona did not realise
+this.
+
+At last, disturbed by her restlessness, her mother and father broke off
+their talk and got up from the table.
+
+"Now you have a pipe, father, while Mona and I put away the supper things.
+After that I'll be able to sit down and hear the rest of it.  I expect
+Mona's tired and wants to be off to bed."
+
+"No, I am not," said Mona sharply.  In her heart she grumbled, "Work,
+work, always work--never a bit of fun."  She had forgotten the hours she
+had spent playing on the quay only a little while before.  She would not
+remind her mother of the parcels, but sulked because she had forgotten
+them.  Lucy looked at her anxiously now and again, puzzled to know why her
+mood had changed so suddenly.  She was still puzzling over the matter,
+when, in putting something back on the side-table, she saw the pile of
+parcels.
+
+"Why, Mona," she cried, "I'd forgot all about my shopping, and the things
+I was going to show you.  Make haste and dry your hands and come and look.
+We'll be able to have a nice, quiet little time now before we go to bed!"
+
+Mona's face changed at once, and her whole manner too.  It did not take
+her long after that to finish up and be ready.
+
+"That," said Lucy, putting one big roll aside, "that's the blue wool for
+father.  We needn't open that now.  Oh, and this, is for you, dear,"
+pushing a big box towards Mona.  "I hope you will like it.  I thought it
+sweetly pretty.  Directly I saw it I thought to myself, now that'll just
+suit our Mona!  I seemed to see you wearing it."
+
+Mona's heart beat faster, her cheeks grew rosy with excitement.
+"Whatever can it be!" she wondered, and her fingers trembled so with
+eagerness, she was ever so long untying the string.
+
+"If you don't like it," went on Lucy, busy untying the knots of another
+parcel, "Mr. Phillips promised he'd change it, if it wasn't damaged at
+all."
+
+How tantalising Lucy was!  Whatever could it be!  Then at last the knot
+gave way, and Mona lifted the lid, and pushed the silver paper aside.
+"Oh, mother!"  She clapped her hands in a rapture, her eyes sparkled with
+joy.  "Oh, mother!  It's--it's lovely.  I didn't know, I didn't think you
+could get me a hat to-day--oh--h!"
+
+"Then you like it?"
+
+"It's lovely!"
+
+"Try it on, and let us see if it suits you.  That's the chief thing, isn't
+it?"  Lucy tried to look grave, but she was nearly as excited and
+delighted as Mona herself.
+
+Mona put it on and looked at her mother with shy questioning.  She hoped
+so much that it did suit her, for she longed to keep it.
+
+Lucy gazed at her critically from all sides, then she nodded with grave
+approval.  "Yes, I never saw you in one that suited you better, to my
+mind.  Go and see for yourself--but wait a minute," as Mona was hurrying
+away to the scullery, where hung a little mirror about a foot square.
+"Don't treat that poor box so badly," as she rescued it from the floor,
+"there's something else in amongst all that paper.  Look again."
+
+Mona opened the box again, but her heart had sunk suddenly.  Yes, there it
+was, the very thing she had dreaded to see--a wreath of blue
+forget-me-nots and soft green leaves!  There was a piece of black ribbon
+velvet too, to make the whole complete.
+
+It was a charming wreath.  Compared with it, her own purchase seemed poor
+and common.
+
+Mona held it in her hand, gazing at it with lowered lids.  Then suddenly
+her eyes filled with tears.  "Oh, mother," she stammered brokenly.
+There was such real pain in her voice that Lucy looked at her in anxious
+surprise.  "Don't you like it?" she asked, disappointed.  She had hoped
+for a rapturous outburst of pleasure, and, instead, Mona stood silent,
+embarrassed, evidently on the verge of tears.
+
+"Don't you like it, dear?" she asked again.  "I thought you would have
+been pleased.  The blue on that silvery white straw looks so pretty,
+I think.  Don't you?"
+
+Mona nodded, but did not speak.  "Mona, dear, what is it?  Tell me what's
+wrong?  I am sure there is something.  Perhaps I can help you, if I know."
+
+Tears had been near Mona's eyes for some moments, and the kindness in her
+mother's face and voice broke down all restraints.  Tossing the hat one
+way and the wreath another, Mona ran into Lucy's arms, sobbing bitterly.
+
+"Oh--I must tell.  I can't keep it in any longer!  Oh, mother, I've got a
+wreath already, I bought it myself, and I hate it--oh, I hate it!
+I--I can't tell you how bad I've felt about it ever since I got it!"
+And then the whole of the miserable story came pouring out.  She kept
+nothing back.  She told of her keeping the eighteenpence, of her dream, of
+her mortification in the shop.  "And--and it seemed as if my dream came
+true," she said, when presently the worst was told.  "I was so crazy for
+the forget-me-nots that I couldn't get, that I never thought anything of
+the wallflowers close beside me, and then, when I had got forget-me-nots,
+I was disappointed; and when I lost the wallflowers, I began to think all
+the world of them!"
+
+Lucy, with her head resting against Mona's, as she held her in her arms,
+smiled sadly.  "It's the same with all of us, dear.  We're so busy looking
+into our neighbour's garden patch, envying them what they've got, that we
+don't see what we've got in our own, and, as like as not, trample it down
+with reaching up to look over the wall, and lose it altogether.  Now, pick
+up your hat and your flowers and try to get all the pleasure you can out
+of them.  I hoped they'd have brought you such a lot.  Or would you rather
+change the wreath for another?"
+
+But Mona would not hear of that.  "Oh, no, I wanted blue forget-me-nots,
+and these are lovely.  I'd rather have them than anything, thank you,
+mother."
+
+"You couldn't have anything prettier," said Peter Carne, rousing suddenly
+from his nap.
+
+Lucy laughed.  "Now, father, whatever do you know about it!  You go to
+sleep again.  Mona and I are talking about finery."  She was busy undoing
+a large parcel of drapery.  "I've got the print here for your frocks,"
+she turned to Mona again.  "I'd have liked to have had both dark blue,
+but I thought you might fancy a pink one, so I got stuff for one of each.
+There, do you like them?"
+
+"Like them!  Oh, mother, are they really both for me!  And what pretty
+buttons!  Are those for me, too?"
+
+"Yes, it's all for you, dear."  Lucy's voice had begun to sound tired and
+faint.  She had had a long, wearying day, and the parcels had been heavy.
+Mona, though, did not notice anything.  She was busy arranging the wreath
+round the crown of her hat.  "If I only had a white dress, wouldn't it
+look nice with this!  Oh, I'd love to have a white dress.  If I'd stayed
+with granny, she was going to get me one this summer."
+
+Her father turned and looked across at them.  "What've you bought for
+yourself, Lucy, my girl?" he asked suddenly.  Lucy looked up in surprise.
+"I--oh, I didn't want anything, father," she said, somewhat embarrassed.
+"I don't need anything new this summer.  My dove-colour merino is as good
+as it was the day I bought it.  It seems foolish to--to buy new when one
+doesn't need it," she added hastily.  "It is only a trouble to keep."
+
+"Do you mean the one you were married in?" asked Peter shrewdly.
+
+Lucy nodded.  "Yes--the one you liked.  I'll get myself a new pair of
+gloves.  I can get those at Tamlin's."
+
+"Um!" There was a deal of meaning in Peter Carne's 'Um.'  "Well, you'll
+never get one that's prettier, but you ought to have something new and
+nice, too.  And what about your medicine?"
+
+"Oh!"  Lucy coloured.  "Oh, I--I'm trying to do without it.  It isn't good
+for anyone to be taking it too often."
+
+"That's what granny always says," chimed in Mona.  "She says if people get
+into the way of taking medicine they get to think they can't do without
+it."
+
+Lucy's pale cheeks flushed pink, and a hurt look crept into her eyes.
+Her husband was deeply annoyed, and showed it.  "I think, my girl,"
+he said, in a sterner voice than Mona had ever heard before, "you'd better
+wait to offer your opinion until you are old enough to know what you are
+talking about.  You are more than old enough, though, to know that it's
+wrong to repeat what's said before you.  After all your mother's bought
+for you, too, I'd have thought," he broke off, for Mona's eyes were once
+more full of tears.  Never in her life before had her father spoken to her
+so severely.
+
+"I--I didn't mean any harm," she stammered, apologetically.
+
+"Then you should learn to think, and not say things that may do harm.
+If what's on your tongue to say is likely to hurt anybody's feelings, or
+to make mischief, then don't let it slip past your tongue.  You'll get on
+if you keep that rule in your mind."
+
+Lucy put her arm round her little stepdaughter, and drew her close.
+"I know that our Mona wouldn't hurt me wilfully," she said kindly.
+"She's got too warm a heart."
+
+Peter Carne patted Mona's shoulder tenderly.  "I know--I know she has.
+We've all got to learn and you can't know things unless they are pointed
+out to you.  I'm always thankful to them that helped me in that way when I
+was young.  Mona'll be glad, too, some day."
+
+"Grown-ups always say things like that," thought Mona, wistfully.  She did
+not feel at all glad then.  In fact, she felt so ashamed and so mortified,
+she thought gladness could never enter into her life again.
+
+It did come, though, for the hurt was not as deep as she thought.  It came
+the next day when her mother trimmed the new hat.  Lucy had good taste,
+and when living at the Grange she had often helped the young ladies with
+their millinery.
+
+"If I put the velvet bow just where the wreath joins, and let the ends
+hang just ever so little over the edge of the brim, I think it'll look
+nice and a little bit out of the common.  Don't you, dear?"  She held up
+the hat to show off the effect.  Mona thought it was lovely.
+
+"Then, as soon as ever I can I'll cut out your dresses, and, if you'll
+help me with the housework, I'll make them myself.  It won't take me so
+very long, with my machine."
+
+She spoke of it so lightly that Mona did not realise in the least what the
+fatigue of it would be to her.
+
+"Oh, I'll do everything," she said, cheerfully.  "You leave everything to
+me, mother, and only do your sewing, I can manage."
+
+And she did manage, and well, too, in the intervals of trying on, and
+admiring, and watching the frocks growing into shape and beauty under
+Lucy's hands.  They were quite plain little frocks, but in Mona's eyes
+they were lovely.  She could not decide which of them she liked best.
+
+Lucy finished off the pink one first, and as soon as it was completed Mona
+took it upstairs and put it on.  New dresses very seldom came her way, and
+she was in a great state of excitement.  She had never in her life before
+had one that she might put on on a week day and wear all day long.
+As a rule, one had to wait for Sunday, and then the frock might only be
+worn for a few hours, if the weather was fine, and as soon as ever church
+and Sunday school were over it had to be changed.
+
+"Doesn't it look nice!" she cried, delightedly, running downstairs to show
+her mother.  "And it fits me like a glove!"  Her cheeks were almost as
+pink as her gown.  Her blue eyes glowed with pleasure.  She looked like a
+pretty pink blossom as she stood with the sunshine pouring in on her.
+
+Lucy smiled at the compliment to her skill.  "You do look nice, dear."
+
+Holding out her crisp, pink skirt, Mona danced gaily round the kitchen,
+the breeze blowing in at the open door ruffled her hair a little.
+She drew herself up, breathless, and glanced out.  Everything certainly
+looked very tempting out of doors.  She longed to go and have a run,
+the breeze and the sunshine seemed to be calling her.  She scarcely liked,
+though, to leave her mother, tired as she was, and still busy at the blue
+frock.
+
+While she was standing looking out, her father appeared at the gate,
+a letter in his hand.  He came up the path reading it.  When he came to
+the porch he looked up and saw Mona.
+
+"Oh, my!  How smart we are!"
+
+"Do you like it, father?  Isn't it pretty?"
+
+"Fine!  And now I s'pose you're longing to go out and show it off!"
+He laughed, and pinched her cheeks.  Mona felt quite guilty at his quick
+reading of her thoughts, but before she could reply he went on, more
+gravely, "I've got a letter from your grandmother.  She sends her love to
+you."  He went inside and put the letter down on the table before Lucy.
+
+"She doesn't seem very well," he said, with a pucker on his brow, "and she
+complains of being lonely.  I'm very glad she's got nice neighbours handy.
+They'd be sure to run in and see her, and look after her a bit if she's
+bad.  I shouldn't like to feel she was ailing, and all alone."
+
+Mona's face dropped, and her heart too.  She felt horribly guilty.
+"Would Mrs. Lane go in and sit with her for company?  Would she look after
+her if she was bad?  Had they made up their quarrel?" she wondered,
+"or were they still not on speaking terms?"  She did not know whether to
+tell her father of the quarrel or not, so she said nothing.
+
+Lucy had been busy trying to frame an excuse for sending Mona out.
+She knew she was longing to go.
+
+"Mona," she said, when at last they had finished discussing the letter and
+its contents, "would you like to go down to Mr. Henders' for some tea and
+sugar, and go on to Dr. Edwards for my medicine?  He said it would be
+ready whenever anyone could come for it."
+
+Mona beamed with pleasure.  "I'll go and put on my hat and boots now this
+minute," and within ten she was ready, and walking, basket in hand, and
+very self-conscious, down the hill to the shops.
+
+The church clock struck twelve as she reached the doctor's.  In a few
+minutes the children would all be pouring out of school, and wouldn't they
+stare when they saw her!  She felt almost shy at the thought of facing
+them, and gladly turned into Mr. Henders' out of their way.  She would
+dawdle about in there, she told herself, until most of them had gone by.
+
+She did dawdle about until Mrs. Henders asked her twice if there was
+anything more that she wanted, and, as she could not pretend that there
+was, she had to step out and face the world again.  Fortunately, though,
+only the older and sedater girls were to be seen.  Philippa Luxmore and
+Patty Row, each carrying her dinner bag, Winnie Maunders, and Kitty
+Johnson, and one or two Mona did not know to speak to.
+
+Philippa and Patty always brought their dinner with them, as the school
+was rather far from their homes.  Sometimes they had their meal in the
+schoolroom, but, if the weather was warm and dry, they liked best to eat
+it out of doors, down on the rocks, or in a field by the school.
+
+When they caught sight of Mona they rushed up to her eagerly.  "Oh, my!
+How nice you look, Mona.  What a pretty frock!  It's new, isn't it?
+Are you going to wear it every day or only on Sundays?"
+
+"Oh, every day." Mona spoke in a lofty tone.  "It's only one of my working
+frocks.  I've got two.  The other's a blue one.  Mother's made them for
+me."
+
+"Um! Your mother is good to you, Mona Carne!  I wish I'd got frocks like
+that for working in.  I'd be glad to have them for Sundays.  Where are you
+going?"
+
+"Home."
+
+"Oh, don't go home yet.  Patty and me are going down to eat our dinner on
+the rocks.  Come on down too.  You won't hurt your frock."
+
+"I don't think I can stay--I ought to go back.  I've got mother's medicine
+here.  It's getting on for dinner-time, too, and father's home to-day."
+Glancing up the road, she caught sight of Millie Higgins and another girl
+in the distance.  She particularly did not want to meet Millie just then.
+She made such rude remarks, and she always fingered things so.  Mona had
+not forgiven her either for leading her astray the day her mother went
+into Baymouth.
+
+She hesitated a moment and was lost.  She turned and walked away from her
+home.  Philippa slipped her arm through hers on one side, and Patty on the
+other, and almost before she knew where she was she was racing with them
+to the shore.
+
+The wind had risen somewhat, so it took them some minutes to find a nice
+sheltered spot in the sunshine and out of the wind, and they had to sit on
+the land side of the rocks, with their backs to the sea.  It was very
+pleasant, though, and, once settled, Mona told them all about her new hat,
+and they gave her a share of their dinner.
+
+After that they told her of the new summer frocks they were to have, and
+the conversation grew so interesting and absorbing, they forgot everything
+else until the church clock struck two!
+
+With a howl of dismay, they all sprang to their feet, and then they howled
+again, and even more loudly.
+
+"Oh, Mona, look!  The tide's right in!  We'll have to get back through the
+fields, and, oh, shan't we be late!"  Patty and Philippa began to scramble
+back as fast as ever they could.  "Good-bye," they called over their
+shoulders.  "Oh, Mona, look out for your basket, it's floating."
+
+They could not have stayed to help her, but it did seem heartless of them
+to run away and leave her alone to manage as best she could.
+Mona looked about her helplessly, her heart sinking right down, down.
+The tide at that point had a way of creeping up gently, stealthily, and
+then, with one big swirl would rush right in and around the group of rocks
+on which she stood.  If the wind was high and the sea at all rough, as
+likely as not it would sweep right over the rocks and back again with such
+force that anyone or anything on them was swept away with it.  There was
+not wind enough to-day for that.  At least, Mona herself was safe, but her
+basket!--already that was swamped with water.  At the thought of the
+ruined tea and sugar her eyes filled.  Her mother's medicine was in the
+basket too.  She would save that!  At any rate, she would feel less guilty
+and ashamed if she could take that back to her.  She made a dash to seize
+the basket before the next wave caught it, slipped on the slimy rock, and
+fell face forward--and at the same moment she heard the crash of breaking
+glass.  The medicine was mingling with the waves, the basket was riding
+out on the crest of them!
+
+Poor Mona!  At that minute the hardest heart would have felt sorry for
+her.  Her dress was ruined, her hands were scraped and cut, her mother's
+tonic was gone!  The misery which filled her heart was more than she could
+bear.  "I can't go home!" she sobbed.  "I can't, I never can any more."
+Big sobs shook her, tears poured down her cheeks.  "I can't go home,
+I can't face them.  Oh, what shall I do!  What shall I do!"  She looked
+down over her wet, green-slimed frock, so pretty and fresh but an hour
+ago, and her sobs broke out again.  "I'll--I'll run away--they won't want
+me after this, but p'raps they'll be sorry for me when they miss me.
+Oh, I wish I'd never come, I wish I'd never met Phil and Patty--they'd no
+business to ask me to come with them--it was too bad of them.  I wish I'd
+gone straight home.  If it hadn't been for Millie Higgins I should have,
+and all this would have been saved.  Oh, what shall I do?"
+
+As there was no one but a few gulls to advise her, she received no
+comfort, and had, after all, to settle the question for herself.
+
+For a few moments all she did was to cry.  Then, "I'll go to granny," she
+decided.  "She'll be glad to have me, and she won't scold.  Yes, I'll go
+to granny.  Father and mother will be glad to be rid of me--I--I'm nothing
+but a trouble to them!"  But, all the same, she felt so sorry for herself
+she could scarcely see where she was going for the tears which blinded
+her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Mona's first thought was to avoid being seen by anyone who would recognise
+her; her second--that she must keep out of sight as much as possible until
+her dress was dry, and her face less disfigured, for anyone meeting her
+now would stop her to enquire if she had met with an accident.
+
+By keeping along the shore for some little distance it was possible to get
+out on to the high road to Milbrook, but it was not an easy path to
+travel.  It meant continued climbing over rocks, ploughing through loose,
+soft sand, or heavy wet sand, clinging to the face of a cliff and
+scrambling along it, or wading through deep water.
+
+What her new pink frock would be like by the time she reached the road
+Mona did not care to contemplate.  "It will be ruined for ever--
+the first time of wearing, too," and a sob caught in her throat as she
+remembered how her mother had toiled to get the material, and then to make
+the dress.  Now that she was losing her she realised how much she had
+grown to love her mother in the short time she had lived with her, and how
+good and kind Lucy had been.  It never occurred to her that she was
+doubling her mother's trouble by running away in this cowardly fashion.
+Indeed, she would have been immensely surprised if anyone had hinted at
+such a thing.  She was convinced that she was doing something very heroic
+and self-denying; and the more she hurt herself clambering over the rough
+roads, the more heroic and brave she thought herself.  And when, at last,
+she stepped out on the high road, and realised that she had seven miles to
+walk to her grandmother's house, she thought herself bravest of all,
+a perfect heroine, in fact.
+
+Already she was feeling hungry, for breakfast had been early, and Patty
+and Philippa had only been able to spare her a slice of bread and butter
+and a biscuit.
+
+On she trudged, and on, and on.  A distant clock struck three, and just at
+the same moment she passed a sign-post with 'Milbrook, 6 miles,' painted
+on one arm of it, and 'Seacombe, 1 mile,' on another.
+
+"Then she had six long tiresome miles to walk before she could get a
+meal!" she thought.  "If she did not get on faster than she was doing,
+it would be dark night before she reached Hillside Cottage, and granny
+would be gone to bed.  She always went to bed as soon as daylight began to
+go.  How frightened she would be at being called up to let Mona in!"
+
+The thought quickened her steps a little, and she covered the next mile in
+good time.  She ran down the hills, and trotted briskly along the level.
+She got on faster in that way, but she very soon felt too tired to
+continue.  Her legs ached so badly she had no heart left for running.
+Now and again she leaned back against the hedge for a little rest, and oh,
+how she did wish that it was the blackberry season!  She was starving, or
+felt as though she was.
+
+By and by, when she had quite despaired of ever reaching granny's that
+night, she caught sight of a cart lumbering along in the distance, and a
+man sitting up in it driving.  It was the first sight of a human being
+that she had seen since she started, and she welcomed it gladly.
+"Perhaps it's going my way, and will give me a lift."
+
+The thought so cheered her that she went back a little way to meet the
+cart.  When she drew nearer she saw that it was a market cart, and that
+the driver was a kindly-looking elderly man.  Every now and again he
+talked encouragingly to his horse to quicken its pace.  Between whiles he
+sang snatches of a hymn in a loud, rolling bass.
+
+As soon as he saw that Mona was waiting to speak to him, he stopped his
+singing and drew up the horse.
+
+"Good evening, missie," he said civilly.  "Are you wanting a lift?"
+
+"Oh, please--I wondered if you would--I am so tired I can hardly walk."
+
+"Um!  Where were you thinking of going?"
+
+"To Hillside----"
+
+"Um!  You've got a brave step to go yet.  We're a good three miles from
+Hillside.  Have 'ee come far?"
+
+"From Seacombe," Mona admitted reluctantly.
+
+"My word!  It's a brave long walk for a young thing like you to take
+alone.  Why, you wouldn't reach Hillside till after dark--not at the rate
+you could go.  You look tired out already."
+
+"I am," sighed Mona, pathetically.
+
+"Here, jump up quick, or my old nag'll fall asleep, and I'll have the
+works of the world to wake un up again."
+
+Mona laughed.  "Thank you," she said, eyes and voice full of gratitude as
+she clambered up the wheel, and perched herself on the high, hard seat
+beside her new friend.  "I'm very much obliged to you, sir.  I don't
+believe I'd ever have got there, walking all the way.  I didn't know seven
+miles was so far."
+
+"I don't believe you would.  A mile seems like two when you ain't in good
+trim for it, and the more miles you walk, the longer they seem.
+Gee up, you old rogue you!"  This to the horse, who, after much coaxing,
+had consented to move on again.
+
+"I never felt so tired in all my life before," sighed Mona, in a voice so
+faint and weary that her companion looked at her sharply.
+
+"Had any dinner?" he asked.
+
+Mona shook her head.  "No, I--I missed my dinner.  I--I came away in a
+hurry."
+
+"That's always a bad plan."  He stooped down and pulled a straw bag
+towards him.  "I couldn't eat all mine.  My wife was too generous to me.
+P'raps you could help me out with it.  I don't like to take any home--it
+kind of hurts my wife's feelings if I do.  She thinks I'm ill, too.
+Can you finish up what's left?"
+
+He unrolled a clean white cloth and laid it and its contents on Mona's
+lap.
+
+"Could she!"  Mona's eyes answered for her.
+
+"Do you like bread and ham?  It may be a trifle thick----"
+
+"Oh!" gasped Mona, "I think bread and ham, _thick_ bread and ham is nicer
+than anything else in the world!"
+
+"Um! Peg away, then.  And there's an orange, in case you're thirsty."
+
+"Oh, you are kind!" cried Mona, gratefully.  "And oh, I am so glad I met
+you, I don't believe I'd have got much further, I was feeling so faint."
+
+"That was from want of food.  Here, before you begin, hadn't you better
+put something about your shoulders.  It's getting fresh now the sun's gone
+down, and when we get to the top of that hill we shall feel it.  Have you
+got a coat, or a shawl, or something?"
+
+"No, I haven't.  I--I came away in a hurry--but I shall be all right.
+I don't mind the cold."
+
+"I should think you were in too much of a hurry--to have forget your
+shawl, and your dinner, too.  Wasn't there anybody to look after you,
+and see you started out properly?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You ain't an orphan, are you?"
+
+"Oh, no, I've got a father and a stepmother----"
+
+"Oh-h!" meaningly.  "Is that the trouble?"
+
+Mona fired up at once in defence of Lucy.  "No, it isn't.  She's just the
+same as my own mother.  She's so kind to me--if she hadn't been so kind
+I--I wouldn't have minded so much.  She sat up last night to--to finish
+making my frock for me."  Her words caught in her throat, and she could
+say no more.
+
+Her companion eyed first her disfigured face, and then her bedraggled
+frock.  "It seems to have seen trouble since last night, don't it?" he
+remarked drily, and then the words and the sobs in Mona's throat poured
+out together.
+
+"That's why--I--I'm here.  I can't go home and show her what I've done.
+It was so pretty only this morning--and now----"  Then bit by bit
+Mona poured forth her tale of woe into the ears of the kindly stranger,
+and Mr. Dodds sat and listened patiently, thoughtfully.
+
+"And what about your poor father and mother and their feelings," he asked
+when Mona had done.
+
+"Oh--oh--they'll be glad to be rid of me.  They'll be better without me,"
+said Mona, with the air and voice of a martyr.
+
+"Um!  If you're certain sure of that, all well and good, but wouldn't it
+have been better to have went back and asked them?  It does seem a bit
+hard that they should be made to suffer more 'cause they've suffered so
+much already.  They won't know but what you've been carried out to sea
+'long with your poor mother's tonic."
+
+Mona did not reply.  In her inmost heart she knew that he was right,
+but she hadn't the courage to face the truth.  It was easier, too, to go
+on than to go back, and granny would be glad to see her.  She would be
+sorry for her, and would make much of her.  Granny always thought that all
+she did was right.
+
+In spite of her feelings, though, Mona finished her meal, and felt much
+better for it, but she presently grew so sleepy she could not talk and
+could scarcely keep on her seat.  Mr. Dodds noticed the curly head sink
+down lower and lower, then start up again with a jerk, then droop again.
+
+"Look here--what's your name, my dear?"
+
+"Mona--Carne," said Mona, sleepily, quite oblivious of the fact that she
+had given away her identity.
+
+"Well, Mona, what I was going to say was, you'll be tumbling off your seat
+and find yourself under the wheel before you know where you are; so I'd
+advise you to get behind there, and curl down into the straw.  Then, if
+you draw my top-coat over you, you'll be safe and warm both."
+
+Mona needed no second bidding.  She almost tumbled into the clean,
+sweet-smelling straw.  "Thank you," she was going to say, as she drew the
+coat up over her, but she only got as far as 'thank,' and it seemed to her
+that before she could say 'you,' she was roused again by the cart drawing
+up, and there she was at her grandmother's gate, with granny standing on
+the doorstep peering out into the dimness.  She thought she had closed her
+eyes for only a minute, and in that minute they had travelled three miles.
+
+"Is that you, Mr. Dodds?"  Granny called out sharply.  "Whatever made 'ee
+come at this time of night?  'Tis time your poor 'orse was 'ome in his
+stable, and you in your own house!"
+
+"I've come on purpose to bring you something very valuable, Mrs. Barnes.
+I've got a nice surprise for 'ee here in my cart.  Now then, little maid,
+you've come to the end of your journey--and I've got a brave way to go."
+
+Mona was still so sleepy that she had to be almost lifted out of the cart.
+
+"What! Why! Mona!"  Then, as Mona stumbled up the path she almost fell
+into her grandmother's arms.  "What's the meaning of it?  What are they
+thinking about to send 'ee back at this time of night!  In another few
+minutes I'd have been gone to bed.  I don't call it considerate at all."
+
+"They don't know," stammered Mona.  "I wasn't sent, I came.  Oh, granny,
+don't ask about it now--let me get indoors and sit down.  I'm so tired I
+can't stand.  I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."
+
+But tired though she was, she turned back and thanked her rescuer.
+"I'd have been sleeping under a hedge to-night, if it hadn't been for
+you," she said gratefully.
+
+"Oh, what I did isn't anything," he said amiably.  "'Tisn't worth speaking
+about.  I don't doubt but what you'd do as much for me, if I wanted it.
+Good night, Mrs. Barnes.  Take care of yourself, ma'am, it's a bit fresh
+to-night.  Good night, little maid.  Gee-up, Nettle, my son."
+
+What he had done was a mere nothing, as he said.  But what he did do
+before the night was over was a very big something.  Between two and three
+hours later he was in Seacombe, and knocking at Peter Carne's door.
+
+"I knew you'd be anxious, so I thought I'd just step along and let 'ee
+know that your little maid's all right," he said quietly, making no
+mention of the seven long miles he had tramped after he had fed and
+stabled his horse for the night.
+
+"Anxious!"  Lucy lay half fainting in her chair.  Peter's face was white
+and drawn with the anguish of the last few hours.  Neither of them could
+doubt any longer that Mona had been swept off the rock and out to sea.
+Nothing else could have kept her, they thought.  Patty and Philippa had
+told where they had last seen her, but it was four o'clock before they had
+come out of school and heard that she was missing.  So the crowds
+clustering about the shore had never any hope of finding her alive.
+
+Peter Carne almost fainted, too, with the relief the stranger's words
+brought him.  The best he had dared to hope for when the knock came was
+the news that Mona's body had been washed in.  The revulsion of feeling
+from despair to joy sent him reeling helpless into a chair.
+
+Humphrey Dodds put out his arms and supported him gently.  "I didn't know,
+I ought to have thought, and told 'ee more careful like."
+
+"Where is she?" gasped Lucy.
+
+"Safe with her grandmother--and there I'd let her bide for a bit, if I was
+you," he added, with a twinkle in his eye.  "It'll do her good."
+
+They tried to thank him, but words failed them both.  They pressed him to
+stay the night, he must be so tired, and it was so late, but he refused.
+A walk was nothing to him, and he had to be at work by five the next
+morning.  "But I wouldn't say 'no' to a bit of supper," he said, knowing
+quite well that they would all be better for some food.
+
+Then, while Lucy got the meal ready, Peter went down to tell his good
+news, and send the weary searchers to their homes.
+
+Over their supper Mr. Dodds told them of Mona's pitiful little confession.
+"It doesn't seem hardly fair to tell again what she told me, but I thought
+it might help you to understand how she came to be so foolish.  It don't
+seem so bad when you know how it all came about."
+
+When he had had his supper and a pipe, he started on his homeward way,
+with but the faintest chance of meeting anyone at that hour who could give
+him a lift over some of the long miles.
+
+Little dreaming of the trouble she was causing, Mona, clad in one of her
+grandmother's huge, plain night-gowns, and rolled up in blankets, slept on
+the old sofa in the kitchen, as dreamlessly and placidly as though she
+hadn't a care on her mind.
+
+Overhead, Grannie Barnes moaned and groaned, and tossed and heaved on her
+bed, but Mona slept on unconcerned and happy.  Even the creaking of the
+stairs when granny came down in the morning did not rouse her.  The first
+thing that she was conscious of was a hand shaking her by the shoulders,
+and a voice saying rather sharply, "Come, wake up.  Don't you know that
+it's eight o'clock, and no fire lit, nor nothing!  I thought I might have
+lain on a bit this morning, and you'd have brought me a cup of tea,
+knowing how bad I've been, and very far from well yet.  You said you did
+it for your stepmother.  It's a good thing I didn't wait any longer!"
+
+Mona sat up and stretched, and rubbed her eyes.  "Could this be granny
+talking?  Granny, who had never expected anything of her!"
+
+No one feels in the best of tempers when roused out of a beautiful sleep,
+and to be greeted by a scolding when least of all expecting it, does not
+make one feel more amiable.
+
+"I was fast asleep," she mumbled, yawning.  "I couldn't know the time if I
+was asleep.  You should have called me."  She dropped back on her pillow
+wearily.  "Oh, I'm so tired and I am aching all over.  I don't believe
+I'll ever wake up any more, granny.  Why--why must I get up?"
+
+"To do some work for once.  I thought you might want some breakfast."
+
+This was so unlike the indulgent granny she had known before she went
+away, that Mona could not help opening her eyes wide in surprise.
+Then she sat up, and, as granny did not relent, she put her feet over the
+edge of the sofa and began to think about dressing.
+
+"What frock can I put on, granny?"  It suddenly struck her that it would
+not be very pleasant to be living in one place while all her belongings
+were in another.
+
+"The one you took off, I s'pose."
+
+"But I can't.  It isn't fit to wear till it has been washed and ironed.
+It wants mending, too.  I tore it dreadfully."
+
+"Um!  And who do you think is going to do all that?"
+
+Mona stared again at her granny with perplexed and anxious eyes.
+There used to be no question as to who would do all those things for her.
+"I don't know," she faltered.
+
+"Well, I can't.  I haven't hardly got the strength to stand and wash my
+own few things, and I'm much too bad to be starching and ironing frocks
+every few days.  Better your stepmother had got you a good stuff one than
+such a thing as that.  If she had, it wouldn't have been spoilt by your
+falling on the seaweed.  Nonsense, I call it!"  Granny drew back the
+curtains sharply, as though to give vent to her feelings.  The perplexity
+in Mona's mind increased.  She was troubled, too, by the marked change in
+her grandmother.  In the bright morning light which now poured in, she
+noticed for the first time a great difference in her appearance as well as
+in her manner.  She was much thinner than she used to be, and very pale.
+Her face had a drawn look, and her eyes seemed sunken.  She seemed,
+somehow, to have shrunken in every way.  Her expression used to be smiling
+and kindly.  It was now peevish and irritable.
+
+For the first time Mona realised that her grandmother had been very ill,
+and not merely complaining.
+
+"I'll light the fire, granny, in a minute--I mean, I would if I knew what
+to put on."
+
+"There's one of your very old frocks upstairs, hanging behind the door in
+your own room.  It's shabby, and it's small for you, I expect, but you'll
+have to make it do, if you haven't got any other."
+
+"It'll do for the time, till my pink one is fit to wear again."
+
+"Yes--but who's going to make it fit?  That's what I'd like to know.
+Can you do it yourself?  I s'pose you'd have to if you was with your
+stepmother."
+
+"No, I can't do it.  Do you think Mrs. Lane would?  I'd do something for
+her----"
+
+Her grandmother turned to her with a look so full of anger that Mona's
+words died on her lips.  For the moment she had forgotten all about the
+quarrel.
+
+"Mrs. Lane!  Mrs. Lane!  After the things she said about you--you'd ask
+her to do you a favour?  Well, Mona Carne, I'm ashamed of you!  Don't you
+know that I've never spoken to her nor her husband since that day she said
+you'd pulled down the faggots that threw me down, and then had left her
+cats to bear the blame of it.  I've never got over that fall, and I've
+never got over her saying that of you, and, ill though I've been,
+I've never demeaned myself by asking her to come in to see me.
+I don't know what you can be thinking of.  I'm thankful I've got more
+self-respect."
+
+Mona's face was crimson, and her eyes were full of shame.  Oh, how
+bitterly she repented now that she had not had the courage to speak out
+that day and say honestly, "Granny, Mrs. Lane was right, I did pull over
+the faggots and forgot them.  It was my fault that you tripped and fell--
+but I never meant that the blame should fall on anyone else."
+
+She longed to say it now, but her tongue failed her.  What had been such a
+little thing to start with had now grown quite serious.
+
+When her father had wanted her to come home, he had consoled himself for
+taking her from granny by the thought that she had neighbours and friends
+about her for company, but now it seemed that she would rather die alone
+than ask their help, or even let them know that she was ill.
+
+Mona turned despondently away, and slowly mounted the stairs.  "If you do
+ever so little a thing wrong, it grows and grows until it's a big thing!
+Here's granny all alone, 'cause of me, and mother all alone, 'cause of me,
+and worrying herself finely by now, I expect, and--and I shouldn't wonder
+if it makes her ill again," Mona's eyes filled at the thought, "and--and I
+never meant to be a bad girl.  I--I seem to be one before I know it--it is
+hard lines."
+
+She unhung her old frock from behind the door, and in the chest of drawers
+she found an old apron, "I shall begin to wonder soon if I've ever been
+away," she thought to herself, as she looked at herself in the tiny
+mirror.
+
+"Puss, puss, puss," called a voice.  "Come along, dears.  Your breakfast
+is ready."
+
+Mona stepped to the window and peeped out.  Mrs. Lane was standing with a
+saucer of bread and milk in each hand.  At the sound of her voice her two
+cats came racing up the garden, chattering as they went, and she gave them
+their meal out there in the sunshine.  As she turned to go back to the
+house she glanced up at Granny Barnes', and at the window where Mona
+stood.  Perhaps she had been attracted by the feeling that someone was
+looking at her, or she may have heard something of Mona's arrival the
+night before.
+
+For a second a look of surprise crossed her face, and a half-smile--then
+as quickly as it came it vanished, and a look of cold disapproval took its
+place.
+
+Mona felt snubbed and hurt.  It was dreadful to have sunk so low in
+anyone's opinion.  It was worse when it was in Mrs. Lane's, for they used
+to be such good friends, and Mrs. Lane was always so kind to her, and so
+patient, and, oh, how Mona had loved to go into her house to play with her
+kittens, or to listen to her stories, and look at the wonderful things
+Captain Lane had brought home with him from some of his voyages.
+
+Captain Lane, who had been a sailor in the Merchant Service, had been to
+all parts of the world, and had brought home something from most.
+
+Mona coloured hotly with the pain of the snub, and the reproof it
+conveyed.
+
+"I can't bear it," she thought.  "I can't bear it--I'll have to tell."
+
+She went down to the kitchen in a very troubled state of mind.
+Life seemed very sad and difficult just now.
+
+Granny was sitting by the fire, a few sticks in her hand.  "It's taken me
+all this time to get these," she said pathetically, "and now I can't stoop
+any more.  What time we shall get any breakfast I don't know, I'm sure,
+and I'm sinking for the want of something."
+
+"I'll get you a cup of tea soon.  I won't be any time."  It cheered her a
+little to have something to do, and she clutched at anything that helped
+her not to think.  She lighted the fire, swept the hearth up, and laid the
+cloth.  Then she went out to sweep the doorstep.  It was lovely outside in
+the sweet sunshine.  Mona felt she could have been so happy if only----
+While she was lingering over her task, Mrs. Lane came out to sweep her
+step and the tiled path, but this time she kept her head steadily turned
+away.
+
+"I'll go right in and tell granny now this minute," thought Mona, her lip
+quivering with pain.  "Then, perhaps, we'll all be friends again.
+I can't bear to live here like this."
+
+But when she turned into the kitchen the kettle was boiling, and her
+grandmother was measuring the tea into the pot.  "Get the loaf and the
+butter, child, I feel I can eat a bit of bread and butter this morning."
+
+Mona got them, and the milk, and some more coal to make up the fire, and
+all the time she was saying over and over to herself different beginnings
+of her confession.  She was so deeply absorbed in her thoughts that she
+did not notice the large slice of bread and butter that her grandmother
+had put on her plate.
+
+"Don't you want it?" Granny asked sharply.  "Why, how red you are, child!
+What have you been doing to make your colour like that.  You haven't
+broken anything, have you?"
+
+Her tone and her sharpness jarred on Mona cruelly, and put all her new
+resolutions to flight.  "No, I haven't," she said, sullenly.
+"There wasn't anything to break but the broom, and you saw me put that
+right away."
+
+Granny looked at her for a moment in silence.  "Your manners haven't
+improved since you went home," she said severely.  "If I'd spoken to my
+grandmother like that, I'd have been sent to bed."
+
+A new difficulty opened before Mona's troubled mind.  If she was rude, or
+idle, or disagreeable, the blame for it would fall upon Lucy, and that
+would be an injustice she could not bear.  Now that she had lost her she
+realised how good Lucy had been to her, and how much she loved her.
+For her sake, she would do all she could to control her temper and her
+tongue.
+
+She had coloured again--with indignation this time--hot words had sprung
+to her lips in defence of Lucy, but she closed them determinedly, and
+choked the words back again.  She felt that she could say nothing; she
+felt, too, that Lucy would not wish her to say anything.  She could not
+explain so as to make her granny understand that it was not Lucy's fault
+that she was rude and ill-tempered.  It was by acts, not words, that she
+could serve Lucy best.  And for her sake she _would_ try.  She would try
+her very hardest to control her temper and her tongue.  The determination
+brought some comfort to her poor troubled heart.  At any rate, she would
+be doing something that Lucy would be glad about.
+
+Her confession, though, remained unspoken.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Mona did try to be good, she tried hard, but she was very, very unhappy.
+She missed her home, she missed Lucy, and her father, and her freedom.
+She longed, too, with an intolerable longing, for the sight and the sound
+of the sea.  She had never, till now that she had lost them, realised how
+dearly she loved the quaint little steep and rambling village, with the
+sea at its foot, and the hills behind it.  She was always homesick.
+
+Perhaps if she had been sent to Hillside, and it had been her plain duty
+to live there, and nowhere else, she might have felt more happy and
+settled.  Or, if granny had been the same indulgent, sympathetic granny as
+of old, but she had placed herself where she was by her own foolish,
+unkind act, which she now bitterly repented; and she was there with a
+cloud resting on her character and motives.  She had shown herself
+ungrateful and unkind; she had played a coward's part, and had bitterly
+pained her father and Lucy.
+
+They did not reproach her--she would have felt better had they done so--
+but she knew.  And, after all, granny did not want her, or so it seemed!
+
+Mona did not realise that her grandmother was really seriously unwell,
+and that her irritability she could not help.  Mrs. Barnes did not know it
+herself.  Mona only realised that she was almost always cross,
+that nothing pleased her, that she never ran and fetched and carried,
+as she used to do, while Mona sat by the fire and read.  It was granny who
+sat by the fire now.  She did not read, though.  She said her eyes pained
+her, and her head ached too much.  She did not sew, either.  She just sat
+idly by the fire and moped and dozed, or roused herself to grumble at
+something or other.
+
+The day after she came to Hillside, Mona had written to her mother.
+She told her where she was, and why, and tried to say that she was sorry,
+but no reply had come, and this troubled her greatly.
+
+"Were they too angry with her to have anything more to say to her?
+Was Lucy ill?"
+
+Every day she went to meet the postman, her heart throbbing with eager
+anxiety, and day after day she went back disappointed.  If it had not been
+for very shame, she would have run away again and gone home, and have
+asked to be forgiven, but she could not make up her mind to do that.
+Probably they would not want her at home again, after all the trouble and
+expense she had been to them.  Perhaps her father might even send her back
+to Hillside again.  The shame of that would be unbearable!
+
+She was uncomfortable, too, as well as unhappy.  She wanted her clothes,
+her brush and comb, her books, and all her other belongings.  She had,
+after a fashion, settled into her old room again, but it seemed bare and
+unhomelike after her pretty one at Cliff Cottage.
+
+Then one day, after long waiting and longing, and hope and disappointment,
+her father came.  For a moment her heart had leaped with the glad wild
+hope that he had come to take her back with him.  Then the sight of the
+box and parcel he carried had dashed it down again.  He had brought her
+all her possessions.
+
+"Well, Mona," he said quietly, as she stood facing him, shy and
+embarrassed.  "So you prefer Hillside to Seacombe!  Well, it's always best
+to be where you're happiest, if you feel free to make your choice.
+For my own part, I couldn't live away from the sea, but tastes differ."
+
+"But--mine--don't differ," stammered Mona.  "I am not happier."  She was
+so overcome she could hardly speak above a whisper, and her father had
+already turned to Mrs. Barnes.
+
+"Well, mother," he cried, and poor Mona could not help noticing how much
+more kindly his voice sounded when he spoke to granny.  "How are you?
+You don't look first rate.  Don't 'ee feel up to the mark?"  He spoke
+lightly, but his eyes, as they studied the old woman's face, were full of
+surprise and concern.  Granny shook her head.  "No, I ain't well,"
+she said, dully.  "I'm very, very far from well.  I don't know what's the
+matter.  P'raps 'tis the weather."
+
+"The weather's grand.  It's bootiful enough to set everybody dancing,"
+said her son-in-law cheerfully, but still eyeing her with that same look
+of concern.
+
+"P'raps 'tis old age, then.  I'm getting on, of course.  It's only what I
+ought to expect; but I seem to feel old all of a sudden; everything's a
+burden to me.  I can't do my work as I used, and I can't walk, and I can't
+get used to doing nothing I'm ashamed for you to see the place as it is,
+Peter if I'd known you was coming I'd have made an effort----"
+
+"That's just why I didn't tell 'ee, mother.  I came unexpected on purpose,
+'cause I didn't want 'ee to be scrubbing the place from the chimney pots
+down to the rain-water barrel.  I know what you are, you see."
+
+Poor old Granny Barnes smiled, but Mona felt hurt.  She did her best to
+keep the house clean and tidy, and she thought it was looking as nice as
+nice could be.  "What I was, you mean," said granny.  "I don't seem to
+have the strength to scrub anything now-a-days."
+
+"Oh, well, there's no need for 'ee to.  You've got Mona to do that kind of
+thing for 'ee."
+
+Mona's heart sank even lower.  "Then he really had no thought of having
+her home again!"
+
+"I've brought your clothes, Mona," he said, turning again to her.
+"Lucy was troubled that they hadn't been sent before.  She thought you
+must be wanting them."
+
+"Thank you," said Mona, dully, and could think of nothing more to say,
+though she knew her father waited for an answer.
+
+"I've brought 'ee some fish, mother," picking up the basket.  "It come in
+last night.  I thought you might fancy a bit, and Lucy sent a bit of
+bacon, her own curing, and a jelly, or something of that sort."
+Granny's face brightened.  Though she had not approved of Mona's being
+given a stepmother, she appreciated Lucy's kindness, and when they
+presently sat down to dinner and she had some of the jelly, she
+appreciated it still more.  Her appetite had needed coaxing, but there had
+been nothing to coax it with.  "It tempts anyone to eat," she remarked,
+graciously.  "When one is out of sorts, one fancies something out of the
+common."
+
+"Lucy'll be rare and pleased to think you could take a bit," said Peter,
+delighted for Lucy's sake.
+
+"Yes, thank you.  She's made it very nice.  A trifle sour, perhaps, but I
+like things rather sharpish."
+
+"Mother," said Peter suddenly, "I wish you'd come to Seacombe to live.
+It'd be nice to have you near."  His eyes had been constantly wandering to
+his mother-in-law's face, and always with the same anxious look.
+The change in her since last he had seen her troubled him greatly.
+Her round cheeks had fallen in, her old rosiness had given place to a grey
+pallor.  She stooped very much and looked shrunken too.
+
+"Oh, granny, do!" cried Mona, eagerly.  It was almost the first time she
+had spoken, but the mere suggestion filled her with overwhelming joy and
+relief.
+
+"Then I could look in pretty often to see how you was, and bring you in a
+bit of fresh fish as often as you would care to have it.  Lucy would take
+a delight, too, in making 'ee that sort of thing," nodding towards the
+jelly, "or anything else you fancied.  We'd be at hand, too, to help 'ee
+if you wasn't very well."
+
+Granny Barnes was touched, and when she looked up there were tears in her
+eyes.  The prospect was tempting.  She had felt very forlorn and old, and
+helpless lately.  She had often felt too that she would like:
+
+    "A little petting
+        At life's setting."
+
+"It's good of you to think of it, Peter," she said, hesitatingly.
+Then, fearing that he might have spoken on the impulse of the moment,
+and that she was showing herself too anxious for his help and Lucy's,
+she drew herself up.  "But--well, this is _home_, and I don't fancy I
+could settle down in a strange place, and amongst strangers, at my time of
+life."
+
+"You'd be with those that are all you've got belonging to you in this
+world," said Peter.  But granny's mood had changed.  She would not listen
+to any more coaxing, and her son-in-law, seeming to understand her,
+changed the subject.
+
+Poor Mona, who did not understand so well, felt only vexed and impatient
+with the poor perverse old woman, for not falling in at once with a plan
+so delightful to herself.  Mona learned to understand as time went on,
+but she was too young yet.
+
+"But, granny, it would be ever so much nicer than this dull old place,
+and--and you'd have mother as well as me to look after you.  I like
+Seacombe ever so much better than Hillside.  Why won't you go, granny?"
+
+Peter Carne groaned.  Mona, by her tactlessness, was setting her
+grandmother dead against such a plan, and undoing all the good he had
+done.  Granny Barnes would never be driven into taking a step, but she
+would see things in her own time and in her own way, if she felt that no
+one was trying to force her.  He held up his hand for silence.
+
+"Your grandmother knows best what'll suit her.  It isn't what you like,
+it's what's best for her that we've all got to think about."
+
+But granny's anger had been roused.  "It may be a dull old place, but it's
+home," she said sharply.  "You can't understand what that means.
+You don't seem to have any particular feeling or you wouldn't be so ready
+to leave first one and then the other, without even a heartache.  I wonder
+sometimes, Mona, if you've got any heart.  Perhaps it's best that you
+shouldn't have; you're saved a lot of pain."  Granny began to whimper a
+little, to her son-in-law's great distress.  "Anyway, you were ready
+enough to run to the 'dull old place' when you were in trouble," she added, reproachfully, and Mona had no answer.
+
+She got up from the table, and, collecting the dishes together, carried
+them to the scullery.  "Oh, dear!" she sighed, irritably, "I seem to be
+always hurting somebody--and somebody's always hurting me.  I'd better go
+about with my mouth fastened up--even then I s'pose I'd be always doing
+something wrong.  People are easily offended, it's something dreadful."
+
+She felt very much aggrieved.  So much aggrieved that she gave only sullen
+words and looks, and never once enquired for Lucy, or sent her a message,
+or even hinted at being sorry for what she had done.
+
+"She didn't send any message to me," she muttered to herself, excusingly.
+"She never sent her love, or--or anything, so why should I send a message
+to her?"  She worked herself up into such a fine state of righteous anger
+that she almost persuaded herself that her behaviour had been all that it
+should be, and that she was the most misunderstood and ill-treated person
+in the whole wide world.
+
+In spite, though, of her being so perfect, she felt miserably unhappy,
+as she lay awake in the darkness, and thought over the day's happenings.
+She saw again her father's look of distress as she snapped at her
+grandmother, and answered him so sulkily.  She pictured him, too, walking
+away down the road towards home, without even a smile from her, and only a
+curt, sullen, good-bye!  Oh, how she wished now that she had run after him
+and kissed him, and begged him to forgive her.
+
+A big sob broke from her as she pictured him tramping those long lonely
+miles, his kind face so grave and pained, his heart so full of
+disappointment in her.
+
+"Oh how hateful he will think me--and I am, I am, and I can't tell him I
+don't really mean to be," and then her tears burst forth, and she cried,
+and cried until all the bitterness and selfishness were washed from her
+heart, and only gentler feelings were left.
+
+As she lay tired out, thinking over the past, and the future, a curious,
+long cry broke the stillness of the night.
+
+"The owl," she said to herself.  "I do wish he'd go away from here.
+He always frightens me with his miserable noise."  She snuggled more
+closely into her pillow, and drew the bedclothes up over her ear.
+"I'll try to go to sleep, then I shan't hear him."
+
+But, in spite of her efforts, the cry reached her again and again.
+"It can't be the owl," she said at last, sitting up in bed, the better to
+listen.  "It sounds more like a person!  Who can it be?"
+
+Again the cry came, "Mo--na!  Mo--o--na!"
+
+"Why, it's somebody calling me.  It must be granny!  Oh, dear!
+Whatever can be the matter, to make her call like that."
+
+Shaking all over with fear, she scrambled out of bed, and groped her way
+to the door.  As she opened it the cry reached her again.
+
+"Mo--na!"  This time there could be no doubt about it.  It came from her
+grandmother's room.
+
+"I'm coming!" she called loudly.  "All right, granny, I'm coming."
+She ran across the landing, guided by the lights shining through the
+chinks in her grandmother's door.
+
+"What's the matter?--are you feeling bad, granny?  Do you want something?"
+
+"Yes, I'm feeling very bad.  I'm ill, I'm very ill--oh, dear, oh dear,
+what shall I do?  Oh, I've no one to come and do anything for me.
+Oh, dear, oh what can I do?"  Granny's groans were dreadful.  Mona felt
+frightened and helpless.  She had not the least idea what to do or say.
+What did grown-ups do at times like this? she wondered.  She did not know
+where, or how, her grandmother suffered, and if she had she would not have
+known how to act.
+
+"Do you want me to fetch the doctor?  I'll go and put on my clothes.
+I won't be more than a minute or two, then I'll come back again----"
+
+"No--no, I can't be left alone all the time, I might die--here, alone;
+oh dear, oh dear, what a plight to be left in!  Not a living creature to
+come to me--but a child!  Oh, how bad I do feel!"
+
+"But I must do something, or call somebody," cried Mona desperately.
+She had never seen serious illness before, and she was frightened.
+Poor old Mrs. Barnes had always been a bad patient, and difficult to
+manage, even when her ailments were only trifling; now that she really
+felt ill, she had lost all control.
+
+"Granny," said Mona, growing desperate.  "I must get someone to come and
+help us, you must have the doctor, and I can't leave you alone, I am going
+to ask Mrs. Lane to come, I can't help it--I can't do anything else.
+I'll slip on my shoes and stockings, I won't be more than a minute."
+
+Granny Barnes stopped moaning, and raised herself on her elbow.
+"You'll do no such thing," she gasped.
+
+"But granny, I must--you must have help, and you must have somebody to go
+for the doctor, and--and, oh, granny, I'm afraid to be here alone,
+I don't know what to do, and you're looking so bad."
+
+"Am I?" nervously.  "Well--if I've got to die alone and helpless, I will,
+but I won't ask Mrs. Lane to come to me.  Do you think I'd--ask a favour
+of her, after all her unneighbourliness--not speaking to me for weeks and
+weeks----"
+
+Mona burst into tears, confession had to come.  "Granny," she said,
+dropping on her knees beside the bed.  "I--I've got to tell you
+something--Mrs. Lane was right----"
+
+"What!" Granny's face grew whiter, but she said no more.  If she had done
+so, if she had but spoken kindly and helped her ever so little, it would
+have made things much easier for poor Mona.
+
+"I--I--it was me that pulled the faggots down that night, and not Mrs.
+Lane's cats, and she won't look, or speak to me because I didn't tell,
+and I let her cats bear the blame.  I--I didn't mean to do any harm, I was
+in such a hurry to light up the fire, and the old things all rolled down,
+and I forgot to go out and pick them up again.  I didn't think you'd be
+going out there that night, but you went out, and--and fell over them.
+If you hadn't gone out it would have been all right, I'd have seen them in
+the morning and have picked them up."
+
+But Granny Barnes was not prepared to listen to excuses, she was very,
+very angry.  "And fine and foolish you've made me look all this time,
+Mona Carne, and risked my life too.  For bad as I was a little while back,
+I wouldn't bring myself to ask Mrs. Lane to come to me, nor Cap'en Lane to
+go and fetch the doctor, and--and if I'd died, well, you know who would
+have been to blame!"
+
+Granny's cheeks were crimson now, and she was panting with exhaustion.
+"Now what you've got to do is--to go in--and tell her the truth yourself."
+
+"I'm going," said Mona, the tears streaming down her face.  But as she
+hurried to the door, the sight of her, looking so childlike and forlorn in
+her nightgown, with her tumbled hair and tear-stained face, touched her
+grandmother's heart, and softened her anger.
+
+"Mona," she cried, "come back--never mind about it now, child----"
+But Mona was already in her own room tugging on her shoes and stockings.
+Granny heard her come out and make her way stumbling down the stairs;
+she tried to call again, but reaction had set in, and she lay panting,
+exhausted, unable to do anything but listen.  She heard Mona pulling back
+the heavy wooden bolt of the front door, then she heard her footsteps
+hurrying through the garden, growing more distant, then nearer as she went
+up Mrs. Lane's path.  Then came the noise of her knocking at Mrs. Lane's
+door, first gently, then louder, and louder still--and then the exhausted,
+over-excited old woman fainted, and knew no more.
+
+Mona, standing in the dark at Mrs. Lane's door, was trembling all over.
+Even her voice trembled.  When Mrs. Lane at last opened her window and
+called out "Who's there?" it shook so, she could not make herself heard
+until she had spoken three times.
+
+"It's me--Mona Carne.  Oh, Mrs. Lane, I'm so frightened!  Granny's very
+ill, please will you--come in?--I--I don't know what to do for her."
+
+"Mona Carne!  Oh!" Mona heard the surprise in Mrs. Lane's voice,
+and feared she was going to refuse her.  Then "Wait a minute," she said,
+"I'll come down."
+
+Mona's tears stopped, but she still trembled.  Help was coming to granny--
+but she still had her confession to make, and it seemed such an awful
+ordeal to face.  All the time she stood waiting there under the stars,
+with the scent of the flowers about her, she was wondering desperately how
+she could begin, what she could say, and how excuse herself.
+
+She was still absorbed, and still had not come to any decision, when the
+door behind her opened, and a voice said kindly, "Come inside, Mona, and
+tell me what is the matter," and Mona stepped from the starlit night into
+the warm, dimly lighted kitchen, and found herself face to face with her
+old kind friend.
+
+"Now, tell me all about it," said Mrs. Lane again catching sight of Mona's
+frightened, disfigured face.  "Why, how you are trembling, child, have you
+had a shock?  Were you in bed?"
+
+Mona nodded.  "Yes, I'd been in bed a good while when I heard a cry,
+such a funny kind of cry!  At first I thought it must be the owl, but when
+I heard it again and again I thought it must be granny, and I got up and
+went to her.  And, oh, I was frightened, she was lying all crumpled up in
+the bed, and she was groaning something dreadful.  She was very ill, she
+said, and she must have the doctor--but she wouldn't let me go to fetch
+him, 'cause she was afraid to be left alone.  I was frightened to be there
+by myself, and I didn't know what to do for her and I said I'd run in and
+ask you to come--but she said she'd rather die--she said I mustn't
+because--because--oh you know," gasped Mona, breathless after her
+outpouring of words, "and--and then--I--told her--about--about that--that
+'twas me pulled down the faggots, and you were right, and she looked--oh
+she looked dreadful, she was so angry!  And then I came in to tell you;
+and, oh Mrs. Lane, I am so sorry I behaved so, I--I never meant to,
+I never meant Tom and Daisy to have the blame.  And, please Mrs. Lane,
+will you forgive me, and speak to me again?  I've been so--so mis'rubble,
+and I didn't know how to set things right again."  But here Mona's voice
+failed her altogether, and, worn out with the day's events, and the
+night's alarm, and all the agitation and trouble both had brought,
+she broke down completely.  Mrs. Lane was quite distressed by the violence
+of her sobs.
+
+"There, there, don't cry so, child, and don't worry any more," she said
+gently, putting her arm affectionately round Mona's shaking shoulders,
+"It's all over now! and we are all going to be as happy and friendly again
+as ever we used to be.  Mona, dear, I am so glad, so thankful that you
+have spoken.  It hurt me to think that I had been deceived in you,
+but I know now that you were my own little Mona all the time.  There,
+dear, don't cry any more; we must think about poor granny.  Come along,
+we will see what we can do to help her."
+
+They stepped out into the starlit night, hand in hand, and though her
+grandmother's illness filled Mona with anxiety, she felt as though a heavy
+care had been lifted from her heart, a meanness from her soul; and, as she
+hurried through the scented gardens, she lifted up her face to the starry
+sky, and her heart to the God who looked down on her through Heaven's
+eyes.
+
+In the house, when they reached it, all was as she had left it, except
+that now a deep, deep silence reigned; a silence that, somehow, struck a
+chill to both hearts.
+
+"How quiet it is!  She was making such a noise before," Mona whispered,
+hesitating nervously at the foot of the stairs.
+
+"I expect she has fallen asleep, I'll go up first and see; you light the
+lamp in the kitchen, and bring me up a glass of cold water.  Or would you
+rather come with me?"
+
+"I--I will come with you."  She could not rid herself of the feeling that
+her granny was dead--had died angry with her, at the last.  She felt sure
+of it, too, when she saw her lying so still and white on her pillow.
+
+Mrs. Lane placed her hand over the tired, faintly-beating heart.
+"She is only faint," she said assuringly, a note of intense relief in her
+voice.  "She is coming round.  Run and fetch me some water, dear,
+and open that window as you pass."
+
+So granny, when she presently opened her eyes and looked about her,
+found Mona on one side of her and her old friend on the other; and both
+were looking at her with tender anxious eyes, and faces full of gladness
+at her recovery.
+
+The old feud was as dead as though it had never existed.
+
+"It's like going to sleep in a world of worries and waking up in a new
+one."  The poor old soul sighed contentedly, as she lay with the stars
+looking in on her, and the scent of the flowers wafting up to her through
+the open window.  "It was too bad, though, to be calling you up in the
+night--out of your bed.  I'm very much obliged to you, Mrs. Lane,
+I--I'm very glad to see you."
+
+"Not as glad as I am to come, I reckon," her neighbour smiled back at her,
+"we are all going to start afresh again from to-day, ain't we?  So it's as
+well to begin the day early, and make it as long as we can!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+Granny was much better, and was downstairs again, but she was weak and
+very helpless still.  She was sad too, and depressed.  The last few weeks
+had shaken her confidence in herself, her spirit was strong enough still,
+but more than once lately her body had failed her.  When, in her old way,
+she had said that she would do this, or that, or the other thing, she had
+found out after all, that she could not.  Her body had absolutely refused
+to obey her.
+
+"I ain't dependent on other folks yet!" she had said sharply, and had
+afterwards found out that she was, and the discovery alarmed her.
+It saddened her, and broke her spirit.
+
+"I ought to be in a home.  I'd rather be in one, or--or be dead, than be a
+burden on other folks," she moaned.
+
+Granny was very hard to live with in those days.  Even a grown-up would
+have found it difficult to know what to say in answer to her complainings.
+
+"Granny, don't talk like that!" Mona would plead, and she would work
+harder than ever that there might be nothing for granny to do, or to find
+fault with.  But however hard she worked, and however nice she kept
+things, she always found that there were still some things left undone,
+and that those were the very things that, in granny's opinion, mattered
+most.
+
+As for reading, or play-time, Mona never found any for either now, and oh,
+how often and how longingly her thoughts turned to the Quay, and to the
+rocks, and the games that were going on there evening after evening!
+Sometimes it almost seemed that she could hear the laughter and the calls,
+the voice of the sea, the rattle of the oars in the rowlocks, the cries of
+the gulls, and then she would feel as though she could not bear to be away
+from them all another moment.  That she must race back to them then and
+there; never, never to leave them any more!
+
+The loneliness, and the hard work, and the confinement to the house told
+on her.  She became thin, the colour died out of her cheeks, and the
+gladness from her eyes, and all the life and joyousness seemed to go out
+of her.  She grew, and grew rapidly, but she stooped so much she did not
+look as tall as she really was.
+
+Granny Barnes, looking at her sweeping out the path one day, had her eyes
+suddenly opened, and the revelation startled her.  She did not say
+anything to Mona, she just watched her carefully, but she did not again
+blame her for laziness; and while she watched her, her thoughts travelled
+backwards.  A year ago Mona had been noisy, lively, careless, but
+cheerful, always full of some new idea.  She had been round and rosy too,
+and full of mischief.  Now she was listless, quiet, and apparently
+interested in nothing.
+
+"Have you got a headache, Mona?"
+
+"No," said Mona indifferently, "I don't think so."
+
+"Is your back aching?"
+
+"It always is."
+
+"Then why didn't you say so, child?"
+
+"What's the good?  The work has to be done."
+
+"If you're bad you must leave it undone.  You can't go making yourself
+ill."
+
+"I ain't ill, and I'd sooner do the work.  There's nothing else to do."
+
+"Can't you read sometimes?  You used to be so fond of reading."
+
+"If I read I forget to do things, and then----"  She was going to say
+"there's a row," but she stopped herself just in time.  "I've read all my
+books till I know them by heart nearly."  Even while she spoke she was
+getting out the ironing cloth, and spreading it on the table.
+The irons were already hot on the stove.
+
+Granny Barnes did not say any more, but sat for a long time gazing into
+the fire, apparently deep in thought.  Mona looking up presently,
+attracted by the silence, was struck by her weary, drooping look, by the
+sadness of the tired old eyes.  But she did not say anything.
+Presently granny roused herself and looked up.  "Put away your ironing,
+child," she said kindly, "and go out and have a game of play.  The air
+will do you good."
+
+"I don't want to go out, granny.  There's no one to play with--and I'm
+afraid to leave you; what could you do if you were to faint again?"
+
+Granny sighed.  The child was right.  "I--I could knock in to Mrs. Lane,
+perhaps," she said, but there was doubt in her voice, and she did not
+press Mona any further.
+
+Mona went on with her ironing, and granny went on staring into the fire,
+and neither spoke again for some time.  Not until Mona, going over to take
+up a fresh hot iron, saw something bright shining on her grandmother's
+cheek, then fall on to her hand.
+
+"Are you feeling bad again, granny?" she asked anxiously.  The sight of
+the tear touched her, and brought a note of sympathy into her voice, and
+the sympathy in her voice in turn touched her granny, and drew both
+together.
+
+"No--I don't know that I'm feeling worse than usual, but--but, well I feel
+that it'd be a good thing if my time was ended.  I'm only a trouble and a
+burden now--no more help for anybody."
+
+"Granny! Granny!  You mustn't say such things!"  Mona dropped her iron
+back on the stove again, and threw herself on the floor beside her
+grandmother.  "You mustn't talk like that!  You're weak, that's all.
+You want to rest for a bit and have some tonics.  Mrs. Lane says so."
+
+"Does she?  I seem to want something," leaning her weary head against
+Mona's, "but it's more than tonics--it's a new body that I'm needing,
+I reckon.  I daresay it's only foolishness, but sometimes I feel like a
+little child, I want to be took care of, and someone to make much of me,
+and say like mother used to, 'Now leave everything to me.  I'll see to it
+all!'  It seems to me one wants a bit of petting when one comes to the end
+of one's life, as much as one does at the beginning--I don't know but what
+a little is good for one at any age."
+
+Mona slipped down till she sat on the floor at her granny's feet, her head
+resting against granny's knee.  "I think so too," she said wistfully.
+Silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire within
+and the buzz of insects, and the calling of the birds, outside in the
+garden.
+
+"Mona, how would you like it if we went into Seacombe to live?"
+
+Mona was up in a moment, her face alight with eagerness, but some instinct
+stopped her from expressing too much delight.  In the softened feeling
+which had crept into her heart, she realised that to her grandmother the
+move would mean a great wrench.
+
+"She must love Hillside as much, or _nearly_ as much as I love Seacombe,"
+she told herself.  Aloud she said, "I'd like it, but you wouldn't, would
+you, granny?"
+
+"I think I would.  I'd like to be nearer your father, and--and you would
+be happy there, and perhaps you'd feel stronger.  I'm getting to feel,"
+she added after a little pause, "that one can be happy anywhere, if those
+about one are happy.  Or, to put it another way, one can't be happy
+anywhere if those about one ain't happy."
+
+Mona felt very guilty.  "Granny," she said, but in rather a choky voice,
+"I'll be happy here, if you'd rather stay here--I will really.  I do love
+Hillside--it's only the sea I miss, and the fun, and--and the excitement
+when the boats come in--but I shall forget all about it soon, and I'll be
+happy here too, if you'd like to stay."
+
+She did try to put aside her own feelings, and speak cheerfully, and she
+succeeded--but, to her surprise, her grandmother did not jump at her
+offer.
+
+"No, child, I wouldn't rather stay.  I'd like to go.  I feel I want to be
+near my own, and your father and you are all I've got.  I think I'll ask
+him if he can find a little house that'll suit us."
+
+"Won't you live with us, granny? You can have my room."
+
+But granny would not hear of that.  "I've always had a home of my own, and
+I couldn't live in anybody else's," she said decisively.  "Your
+stepmother's too much of an invalid herself too, to be able to look after
+another."
+
+"Then you'd want me to live with you?" asked Mona, with a little break in
+her voice.  She was disappointed, but she tried not to show it.
+
+"Yes, dearie," her eyes scanning Mona's face wistfully, "wouldn't you like
+that?"
+
+Mona hesitated for only a second, then "Yes, granny, I should," she said,
+and then as the idea became more familiar, she said more heartily,
+"Yes, I'd love to, and oh, granny, if we could only get one of the little
+houses down by the Quay it would be lovely!  I'm sure you'd like it----"
+
+"I couldn't live down by the Quay," granny interrupted sharply,
+"I wouldn't live there if a house was given me rent free.  It is too
+noisy, for one thing, and you feel every breath of wind that blows."
+
+"But you're close, when the boats come in----"
+
+"Aye, and when they don't come in," said granny.  "I ain't so fond of the
+sea as you are, and I should never know any rest of mind down close by it.
+Every time the wind blew I'd be terrified."
+
+Mona looked vexed.  "It isn't often that there's any place at all to let,"
+she said crossly.  "If we don't take what we can get, we shall never go at
+all."
+
+But Granny Barnes was not alarmed.  "Don't you trouble yourself about
+that.  Your father'll find us something for certain.  He'd got his eye on
+a little place when he was here, he wanted me to take it then.  I almost
+wish I had, now.  Never mind, I'll write to him to-night or to-morrow.
+If I was well I would go in by John Darbie's van and have a look about for
+myself."
+
+All this sounded so much like business, that Mona sat up, all her glumness
+falling from her.  When Granny Barnes once made up her mind to do a thing,
+she did not let the grass grow under her feet.  There was, after all, much
+of Mona's nature in her, and when once she had made up her mind to leave
+her old home, it almost seemed as though she could not get away quickly
+enough.
+
+Perhaps it was that she felt her courage might fail her if she gave
+herself much time to think about things.  Perhaps she felt she could not
+face the pain and the worry if she gave herself time to worry much.
+ Or, it may have been that she really did feel anxious about Mona's health
+and her own, and wanted to be settled in Seacombe as soon as possible.
+
+At any rate she so managed that within a fortnight all her belongings were
+mounted on to two of Mr. Dodd's waggons and were carried off to the new
+home, while she and Mona followed in John Darbie's van, seen off by Mrs.
+Lane.  Mrs. Lane was very tearful and sad at parting with them.
+
+"I know it's for the best for both of you--but I feel as if I can't bear
+the sight nor the thought of the empty home."  Then she kissed them both,
+and stood in the road in the sunshine, waving her hand to them till they
+were out of sight.
+
+"Wave your handkerchief to her, Mona; blow another kiss to her, child."
+But granny kept her own head turned away, and her eyes fixed on the bit of
+white dusty road which lay ahead of them.  Neither could she bear the
+sight of the empty house, nor of the neighbour she was leaving.
+
+Mona's eyes were full of tears, but granny's were dry, though her sorrow
+was much deeper than Mona's.  John Darbie tactfully kept his tongue quiet,
+and his eyes fixed on the scenery.  He understood that his old friend was
+suffering, and would want to be left alone for a while.  So, for the first
+part of the way, they jogged along in silence, except for the scrunching
+of the gravel beneath the wheels, and the steady thud, thud of the old
+horse's hoofs, Granny Barnes looking forward with sad stern eyes, and a
+heart full of dread; Mona looking back through tears, but with hope in her
+heart; the old driver staring thoughtfully before him at the familiar way,
+along which he had driven so many, old and young; happy and sad, some
+willing, some unwilling, some hopeful, others despondent.  The old man
+felt for each and all of them, and helped them on their way, as far as he
+might travel it with them, and sent many a kind thought after them, which
+they never knew of.
+
+"I suppose," he said at last, speaking his thoughts aloud, "in every
+change we can find some happiness.  There's always something we can do for
+somebody.  So far as I can see, there's good to be got out of most
+things."
+
+Mrs. Barnes' gaze came back from the wide-stretching scene beside her, and
+rested enquiringly on the old speaker.  "Do 'ee think so?" she asked
+eagerly.  "'Tis dreadful to be filled with doubts about what you're
+doing," she added pathetically.
+
+"Don't 'ee doubt, ma'am.  Once you've weighed the matter and looked at it
+every way, and have at last made up your mind, don't you let yourself
+harbour any doubts.  Act as if you hadn't got any choice, and go straight
+ahead."
+
+"But how is anyone to know?  It may be that one took the way 'cause it was
+the easiest."
+
+"Very often it's the easiest way 'cause it's the way the Lord has opened
+for us," said the old man simply, and with perfect faith.  "Then I count
+it we're doubting Him if we go on questioning."
+
+The look of strained anxiety in Granny Barnes' eyes had already given way
+to one more peaceful and contented.
+
+"I hadn't thought of that," she said softly, and presently she added, "It
+takes a load off one's mind if one looks at it that way."
+
+Mona, who had been listening too, found John Darbie's words repeating
+themselves over and over again in her mind.  "There's always something we
+can do--there's good to be got out of most things."  They set themselves
+to the rhythm of the old horse's slow steps--"There is always something--
+there is always something--we can do--we can do, there is always something
+we can do."
+
+Throughout that long, slow journey on that sunshiny day they rang in her
+head, and her heart chanted them.  And though in the years that followed
+she often forgot her good resolutions, and many and many a time did wrong
+and foolish things, knowing them to be wrong and foolish, though she let
+herself be swayed by her moods, when she should have fought against them,
+she never entirely forgot old John Darbie's simple, comforting words, nor
+the lesson they had taught her that day, and unconsciously they helped her
+on her life's road, just as he himself helped her along her road to her
+new home.
+
+There was indeed a great deal that she could do, as she discovered
+presently, when the van deposited them and their parcels at the door of
+their new home, for the furniture had arrived but a couple of hours
+earlier, and though her father and the man had lifted most of the heavier
+things into their places, and Lucy had done all that she could to make the
+little house look habitable, there was much that Mona, knowing her
+grandmother's ways as well as she did, could do better than anyone else.
+
+As soon as the van drew near, Lucy was at the door to greet them, and in
+the warmth and pleasure of her welcome, Mona entirely forgot the
+circumstances under which they had last parted: and it never once occurred
+to her to think how different their meeting might have been had Lucy not
+been of the sweet-tempered forgiving nature that she was.
+
+Lucy had forgotten too.  She only remembered how glad she was to have them
+there, and what a trying day it must have been for poor old Granny Barnes.
+And when, instead of the stern, cold, complaining old woman that she had
+expected, she saw a fragile, pale-faced little figure, standing looking
+forlorn, weary, and half-frightened on the path outside her new home,
+Lucy quite forgot her dread of her, and her whole heart went out in
+sympathy.
+
+Putting her arms round her, she kissed her as warmly as though it had been
+her own mother, and led her tenderly into the house.
+
+"Don't you trouble about a single thing more, granny, there are plenty of
+us to see to everything.  The fire is burning, and your own armchair is
+put by it, and all you've got to do is to sit there till you're rested and
+tell us others what you'd like done."
+
+Granny Barnes did not speak, but Lucy understood.  She took up the poker
+and stirred the coals to a more cheerful blaze.  "It's a fine little stove
+to burn," she said cheerfully, "and it is as easy as possible to light."
+
+Granny was interested at once, "Is it?  How beautiful and bright it is.
+Did you do that, Lucy?"
+
+Lucy nodded.  "I love polishing up a stove," she said with a smile,
+"it repays you so for the trouble you take.  Don't you think so?"
+
+"Yes, I used to spend hours over mine, but I don't seem to have the
+strength now.  Mona does very well though.  Where's Peter?  Out fishing?"
+
+"No, he's upstairs putting up your bed.  He has nearly done.  Mona's is up
+already.  You've got a sweet little room, Mona.  You'll love it, I know."
+
+Mona ran upstairs at once to inspect.  She was bubbling over with
+excitement and happiness.  Her room was, she knew, at the back of the
+house, so she went to it straight.  It was in a great muddle, of course,
+but the bed was in place, and the chest of drawers.  The walls had been
+newly papered, the paper had little bunches of field daisies all over it,
+white and red-tipped, each bunch was tied with a blade of green grass.
+Mona thought it perfectly exquisite, but it was the window which took her
+fancy captive.  It was a lattice window, cut deep in the wall, and before
+it was a seat wide enough for Mona to sit in--and beyond the window was
+the sea!
+
+"I'll be able to sit there, and read, and sew, and watch the boats going
+by," she thought delightedly, "and I'll have little muslin curtains tied
+back with ribbons, and a flounce of muslin across the top.  Oh, I shall
+love it up here!  I shall never want to go out.  It's nicer even than my
+room at father's, and ever so much nicer than the 'Hillside' one!"
+
+A sound of hammering and banging came from the other side of the tiny
+landing.
+
+"That must be father, putting up granny's bed," she hurried out, and
+across to him.  He had just finished, and was pushing the bed into place.
+Two great bundles tied up in sheets filled up most of the rest of the
+floor.  One held Granny Barnes' feather-tie, the other her pillow-cases,
+sheets and blankets.
+
+"I do hope your grandmother'll be well and comfortable here," he said
+anxiously, "and happy.  If it rests with us to make her so, she shall be.
+Mona, you'd better make up her bed soon.  Don't leave it for her to do
+herself.  She'll most likely be glad to go to bed early to-night, she must
+be tired.  There's no moving round the room, either, with those great
+bundles there.  I'll lift the feather-tie on to the bed for you."
+
+"All right--in a minute, father."
+
+Granny's bedroom window looked out on the hill.  Further up the hill, on
+the opposite side, was Cliff Cottage.  It could be just seen from granny's
+new home.  How small and strange it all looked, thought Mona, and how
+narrow the hill was, but how homelike and beautiful.
+
+While she gazed out Millie Higgins and Philippa Luxmore appeared, they
+were coming down the hill together.  Millie had on a pink dress almost
+exactly like Mona's.
+
+"Why--why, she's copied me!" thought Mona indignantly, a wave of hot anger
+surging up in her heart.  "She's a regular copy-cat!  She can't think of a
+thing for herself, but directly anyone else has it, she must go and copy
+them.  I'd be ashamed if I was her.  Now I shan't like my pink frock any
+more!"
+
+As though attracted by the gaze on her, Millie looked up at the window,
+and straight into Mona's eyes, but instead of feeling any shame, she only
+laughed.  She may not have remembered her own frock, or Mona's, she was
+probably not laughing at Mona's annoyance, it is very likely that she was
+amused at something she and Philippa were talking about, but Mona thought
+otherwise, and only glared back at her with angry, contemptuous eyes.
+She saw Millie's face change, and saw her whisper in Philippa's ear,
+then she heard them both laugh, and her heart was fuller than ever of
+hatred, and mortification.  Mortification with herself partly, for
+allowing Millie to see that she was vexed.
+
+Oh, how she wished now, that instead of letting Millie see how she had
+annoyed her, she had acted as though she did not notice, or did not mind.
+
+"Mona, give me a hand here a minute, will you?"  Her father's voice broke
+in on her musings, "that rope is caught round the bedpost."
+
+Mona went over, and released the rope, but returned again to the window.
+
+"If you don't bustle round, little maid, we shall never be done," said her
+father.  "I want to get it all as right as I can before I go, or your
+grand-mother'll be doing it herself, and making herself ill again.
+You can look out of window another day, there'll be plenty of time for
+that."
+
+"I'm tired," grumbled Mona sulkily, "I can't be always working."
+
+Her father straightened his back, and looked at her.  His eyes were
+reproachful and grieved.  Mona's own eyes fell before them.  Already she
+was sorry that she had spoken so.  She did not feel in the least as she
+had said she did.  She was put out about Millie, and Millie's frock, that
+was all.
+
+"Mona, my girl," he said gravely, "you put me in mind of a weather-cock in
+a shifty wind.  Nobody can tell for half an hour together what quarter
+it'll be pointing to.  'Tis the shifty wind that does the most mischief
+and is hardest to bear with.  When you came in just now, I'd have said you
+were pointing straight south, but a few minutes later you've veered right
+round to the north-east.  What's the meaning of it, child?  What's the
+matter with 'ee.  It doesn't give 'ee much pleasure to know you're
+spoiling everybody else's, does it?"
+
+Mona gulped down her tears.  "No--o, I--I--it was Millie Higgins' fault.
+She's been and got a dress----"  And then she suddenly felt ashamed of
+herself, and ashamed to repeat anything so petty, and she gulped again,
+and this time she swallowed her bad temper too.  "No--I'm--I'm 'set fair'
+now, father!" she added, and, though there was a choke in her voice,
+as though her temper was rather hard to swallow, there was a smile in her
+eyes, and in a very little while granny's feather-bed was shaken up as
+soft and smooth as ever granny herself could have made it, and the bed was
+made up.  And then by degrees everything in the room was got into place
+just as its mistress liked it, so that when granny came up later on and
+saw her new room, she exclaimed aloud in pleased surprise:
+
+"Why, it looks like home already," she cried, "and that's our Mona's
+doing, I know!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Mona sat reading, curled upon the window seat in her bedroom.  She spent a
+great deal of her time there.  Sometimes sewing, but more often either
+reading, or looking out at the view.  For a few days she had been busy
+making curtains for her window, and a frill to go across the top, and,
+as granny had firmly refused to buy wide pink ribbon to fasten back the
+curtains, Mona had hemmed long strips of some of the print left over from
+her own pink dress.
+
+But all this was done now, and Mona was very proud of her handiwork.
+The frill was a little deeper on one side than the other, but that was a
+trifle.  Mona thought that the whole effect was very smart; so smart,
+indeed, that she sometimes wished that her window was in the front of the
+house, so that people going up and down the hill might see it.
+"But I s'pose one can't have everything," she concluded, with a sigh.
+
+Granny's window, which did look out on the hill, was anything but smart,
+for she had had neither time nor strength to make her curtains, and Mona
+had not offered to make them for her.
+
+Granny had gone up to Lucy's that very afternoon, and taken them with her,
+hoping to work at them a little while she talked.  She often went up to
+sit with Lucy.  Perhaps she found it dull at home, with Mona always shut
+up in her own room.  Lucy's garden delighted her too.  She had none
+herself that could compare with it.  In the front there was a tiny patch
+close under her window, and there was a long strip at the back, but only a
+very few things had the courage to grow there, for the wind caught it, and
+the salt sea-spray came up over it, and blighted every speck of green that
+had the courage to put its head out.  Lucy's garden and Lucy's kitchen
+both delighted her.  She said the kitchen was more cheerful than hers,
+but it was really Lucy's presence that made it so.  Lucy was always so
+pleased to see her, so ready to listen to her stories, or to tell her own,
+if granny was too tired to talk.  She always listened to her advice, too,
+which was quite a new experience to Mrs. Barnes.
+
+This afternoon, while granny was talking, and taking a stitch
+occasionally, Lucy picked up the other curtain and made it.  It was not a
+very big matter; all the windows in Seacombe houses were small.  Then she
+put on the kettle, and while it was boiling she took the other curtain
+from granny's frail hand and worked away at that too.  The weather was
+hot, and the door stood wide open, letting in the mingled scents of the
+many sweet flowers which filled every foot of the garden.  A sweet-brier
+bush stood near the window, great clumps of stocks, mignonette and
+verbenas lined the path to the gate.
+
+"I didn't mean to stay to tea," said granny, realizing at last that Lucy
+was preparing some for her.  "I was going to get home in time."
+
+"Mona won't have got it, will she?"
+
+"Oh, no, she won't think about it, I expect.  She has got a book, and when
+she's reading she's lost to everything.  I never knew a child so fond of
+reading."
+
+"You spoil her, granny!  You let her have her own way too much."
+
+Then they both laughed, for each accused the other of 'spoiling' Mona.
+
+"I don't like her to work too hard," said granny.  "She'd got to look very
+thin and delicate.  I think she's looking better, though, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, ever so much," Lucy reassured her, and granny's face brightened.
+
+Mona, meanwhile, went on reading, lost, as granny said, to everything but
+her book.  She did not even look out to sea.  She heard no sound either in
+the house or out.  Heart and mind she was with the people of the story.
+She was living their life.
+
+The baker came and knocked two or three times; then, opening the door,
+put a loaf on the table, and went away.  Then presently came more
+knocking, and more, but none of it reached Mona's brain.  She was flying
+with the heroine, and enjoying hairbreadth escapes, while running away
+from her wicked guardian, when her bedroom door was flung open, and Millie
+Higgins--not the wicked guardian--appeared on the threshold.
+
+Mona gave a little cry of alarm, then immediately grew angry with herself
+for having let Millie see that she had startled her.
+
+"What are you doing up here?" she demanded, bluntly.  "Who told you to
+come up? Granny isn't in, is she?"
+
+Millie laughed.  "If your grandmother had been in I should have been at
+the other end of the street by this time.  I've no fancy for facing
+dragons in their caves."
+
+"Don't be rude," retorted Mona, colouring with anger.  Millie always
+laughed at Mrs. Barnes, because she was old-fashioned in her dress and
+ways.  "How did you get in, and why did you come?  If granny didn't send
+you up, you'd no right to come.  It's like your cheek, Millie Higgins, to
+go forcing your way into other people's houses!"
+
+"It's like your carelessness to shut yourself up with a story-book and
+leave your front door open.  I ain't the first that has been in!
+Wouldn't your grandmother be pleased if she knew how trustworthy her dear,
+good little Mona was."
+
+Mona looked frightened, and Millie noticed it.  "What do you mean,
+Millie?"
+
+Millie had seen the baker come, knock, open the door, and leave again
+after depositing a loaf on the table.  She had also seen Mrs. Barnes
+comfortably settled in Lucy Carne's kitchen, and she determined to have
+some fun.  She loved teasing and annoying everyone she could.
+
+"Come down and see what they've done.  At any rate, you might be civil to
+anyone who comes in to warn you before any more harm is done."
+
+Mona, still looking alarmed, slipped from the window-seat and followed
+Millie down the stairs.
+
+While she stood at the foot of them, glancing about her anxiously, Millie
+stepped over and shut the house door.
+
+"Where?--What?--I don't see anything wrong," said Mona.  Millie burst into
+mocking laughter.  "I don't suppose you do!  Silly-billy, cock-a-dilly,
+how's your mother, little Mona! Why, how stupid you are! Anyone can get a
+rise out of you! I only wanted to frighten you and get you downstairs.
+You're going to ask me to tea now, and give me a nice one, too, aren't
+you?"
+
+Mona was trembling with mortification and anger.  "No, I am not," she
+said, "and if you don't go out of here in a minute I'll--I'll----"
+
+"Oh, no--you won't, dear.  You couldn't if you wanted to--but you don't
+really want to, I know.  Now poke up the fire and get me some tea.
+I hope you have something nice to eat."
+
+Mona stood by the dressers, her thoughts flying wildly through her brain.
+What could she do?  Millie was taller, older, and stronger than herself,
+so she could not seize her, and put her out by force.  Mona knew, too,
+that she would not listen to pleading or to coaxing.
+
+"Oh, if only someone would come!"  She made a move towards the door, but
+Millie was too quick for her, and got between her and it.
+
+"Millie, you've got to go away.  You'll get me into an awful row if you
+are found here, and--and I can't think how you can push yourself in where
+you ain't wanted."
+
+"Oh, fie!  Little girls shouldn't be rude--it shows they haven't been
+properly brought up."
+
+Mona did not answer.  She was trying to think what she could do.  If she
+went out of the house would Millie follow?
+
+Millie picked up a newspaper, and pretended to read it, but over the top
+of it she was watching Mona all the time.  She loved teasing, and she
+thought she had power to make younger girls do just as she wished.
+But Mona stood leaning against the dressers, showing no sign of giving in.
+
+Millie grew impatient.  "Wake up, can't you!" she cried, and, picking up a
+cushion from an armchair beside her, she threw it across the room at Mona.
+"I want my tea!"
+
+The cushion flew past Mona without touching her, but it fell full crash
+against the china on the dressers behind her.  Mona screamed, and tried to
+catch what she could of the falling things.  Cups, plate, jugs came
+rolling down on the top of those below.  What could one pair of small
+hands do to save them!
+
+The set, a tea-set, and her grandmother's most treasured possession, had
+been kept for a hundred years without a chip or a crack.  It had been her
+grandmother's and her great-grandmother's before that.
+
+Mona, white to the lips, and trembling, stood like an image of despair.
+Her hands were cut, but she did not notice that.  Millie was pale, too,
+and really frightened, though she tried to brazen it out.  "Now there'll
+be a fine old row, and you will be in it, Mona Carne.  It was all your
+fault, you know."
+
+But Mona felt no fear for herself yet.  She could think of nothing but her
+grandmother's grief when she learned of the calamity which had befallen
+her.  Somebody had to break the news to her, too, and that somebody would
+have to be herself.  Mona leaned her elbows on the dressers amongst the
+broken china and, burying her face in her hands, burst into a torrent of
+tears.
+
+Millie spoke to her once or twice, but Mona could not reply.  "Well, if
+she won't open her lips, I might as well go," thought Millie, and,
+creeping out of the front door, she hurried away down the hill, only too
+delighted to have got away so easily.
+
+Mona heard her go, but made no effort to stop her.  She felt too utterly
+miserable even to reproach her.
+
+Presently other footsteps came to the door, followed by a gentle knocking.
+Mona, in consternation, straightened herself and wiped her eyes.
+"Who can it be?  I can't go to the door like this!"  Her face was crimson,
+and her eyes were nearly closed, they were so swelled.
+
+The knock was repeated.  "Mona, may I come in?"  It was Patty Row's voice.
+Mona was fond of Patty, and she had begun to long for sympathy and advice.
+
+"Cub id," she called out as well as she could.  "Cub id, Paddy."
+Patty opened the door.  "What a dreadful cold you've got," she said,
+sympathetically.  "I've just seen your grandmother, and she asked me to
+tell you she's having tea with Lucy."  Mona turned and faced her.
+
+"Why!--Why! Mona!  Oh, my!  Whatever is the matter?"
+
+Mona's tears began again, nearly preventing her explanation.
+"Millie Higgins came in, and--and got teasing me, and--and----"
+
+"I've just seen her hurrying home," cried Patty.  "I thought she came out
+from here.  What has she done, Mona?  She's always bullying somebody."
+
+"She--she threw the cushion at me, 'cause--'cause I didn't get her some
+tea, and--oh, Patty, what shall I do?--just look at what she has done.
+That tea-set was more than a hundred years old, and--and granny thinks the
+world of it--and I've got to tell her."  Mona's voice rose to a pitiful
+wail.  "Oh, my.  I wish--I wish I was dead.  I wish----"
+
+"That'd only be another great trouble for her to bear," said wise little
+Patty, soberly.  "Millie ought to tell her, of course.  It's her doing.
+P'raps that is where she has gone."
+
+Mona shook her head.  She had no hope of Millie's doing that.
+
+"Well," said Patty, in her determined little way, "if she doesn't it
+shan't be for want of being told that she ought to."
+
+"She'll never do it," said Mona, hopelessly.  "I'll have to bear the
+blame.  I can't sneak on Millie, and--and so granny'll always think I did
+it."
+
+Patty pursed up her pretty lips.  "Will she?" she thought to herself.
+"She won't if I can help it," but she did not say so aloud.  "Let's sort
+it out, and see how much really is broken," she said, lifting off the
+fatal cushion.  "P'raps it isn't as bad as it looks."
+
+Mona shook her head despondently.  "It sounded as if every bit was
+smashed.  There's one cup in half, and a plate with a piece out--no, those
+jugs were common ones, they don't matter so much," as Patty picked up a
+couple, one with its handle off, the other all in pieces.  "Here's a cup
+without any handle--oh, poor granny, it'll break her heart, and--and
+she'll never forgive me.  I don't see how she can.  Oh, Patty!
+Did anybody in all the world ever have such a trouble before?"
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised," said Patty.  "There, that's the lot, Mona.
+It's bad enough, but not so bad as it seemed at first.  There's two cups,
+a plate, and a saucer of the set broken.  Two jugs, a basin, and a plate
+of the common things."
+
+She put the broken bits of the tea-set on the table, and began to arrange
+what was left on the dressers, so as to conceal the painful gaps.
+"There, it doesn't look so dreadful now.  What had we better do next,
+Mona?"
+
+Mona turned away and dropped into granny's big chair.  "I--I've got to
+tell her, that's what I'd better do next!" she cried.  She flung her arms
+out on the table, and buried her face in them, sobbing aloud in her
+misery.
+
+Patty, alarmed at her grief, went over and put her arms around her shaking
+shoulders.  "Mona!--Mona, dear, don't cry so.  You'll be ill.  I'll go and
+tell Mrs. Barnes about it, and--and I'll tell her it wasn't your fault."
+
+A slight sound made them both look towards the door--and they saw that
+there was no longer any need for anyone to break the news.  Granny Barnes
+knew it already.
+
+For what seemed to the two girls minutes and minutes, no one uttered a
+word.  Granny with wide eyes and stricken face, stood staring at her
+broken treasures, and the two girls stared at granny.  All three faces
+were tragic.  At last she came slowly forward, and took up one of the
+broken pieces.  Her poor old hands were shaking uncontrollably.
+
+Mona sprang to her, and flung her arms about her.  "Oh, granny, granny,
+what can I do?  It--was an accident--I mean, I couldn't help it.
+Oh, I'd sooner anything had happened to me than to your tea-set."
+
+Patty Row slipped out of the house, and gently closed the door behind her.
+She had meant to stay and speak up for Mona, but something told her that
+there would be no need for that.
+
+Poor Mrs. Barnes dropped heavily into her seat.  "I wouldn't then, dear.
+There's worse disasters than--than broken china."
+
+Mona's sobs ceased abruptly.  She was so astonished at her grandmother's
+manner of taking her trouble, she could scarcely believe her senses.
+"But I--I thought you prized it so, granny--above everything?"
+
+"So I did," said granny, pathetically.  "I think I prized it too much,
+but when you get old, child, and--and the end of life's journey is in
+sight, you--you--well, somehow, these things don't seem to matter so much.
+'Tis you will be the loser, dearie.  When I'm gone the things will be
+yours.  I've had a good many years with my old treasures for company,
+so I can't complain."
+
+Mona stood looking at her grandmother with a dawning fear on her face.
+"Granny, you ain't ill, are you?  You don't feel bad, do you?"
+
+Mrs. Barnes shook her head.  "No, I ain't ill, only a bit tired.
+It's just that the things that used to matter don't seem to, now,
+and those that--that, well, those that did seem to me to come second,
+they matter most--they seem to be the only ones that matter at all."
+
+Patty Row had done well to go away and leave the two alone just then.
+Granny, with a new sense of peace resting on her, which even the loss of
+her cherished treasures could not disturb, and Mona, with a strange
+seriousness, a foreboding of coming trouble on her, which awakened her
+heart to a new sympathy.
+
+"Why, child, how you must have cried to swell your eyes up like that."
+Granny, rousing herself at last out of a day-dream, for the first time
+noticed poor Mona's face.  "Isn't your head aching?"
+
+"Oh, dreadfully," sighed Mona, realizing for the first time how acute the
+pain was.
+
+"Didn't I see Patty here when I came in?  Where has she gone?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Patty didn't break the things, did she?"
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Did she tell you what she came about?"
+
+"To tell me you were having tea with mother."
+
+"But there was more than that.  She came to ask if you'd go to Sunday
+School with her on Sunday.  Her teacher told her to ask you.  You used to
+go, didn't you?  Why have you given it up?"
+
+Mona nodded, but she coloured a little.  "I thought the girls--all knew
+about--about my running away."
+
+"I don't think they do--but I don't see that that matters.  You'd like to
+go again, wouldn't you?"
+
+"Yes, I'd like to go with Patty.  Miss Lester's her teacher, and they've
+got a library belonging to their class.  You can have a book every week to
+bring home."  Mona's face grew quite bright, but a faint shadow had crept
+over granny's.
+
+"You read a lot, Mona.  So many stories and things ain't good for you.
+Do you ever read your Bible?"
+
+Mona looked surprised.  "N--no.  I haven't got it here.  It's up at
+Lucy's."
+
+Mrs. Barnes groaned.  "Oh, child, to think of our not having a Bible in
+the house between us!"
+
+"There's the Fam'ly Bible back there," said Mona, quickly, feeling
+suddenly that a house without a Bible in it was not safe.
+
+"Yes--but it's never opened, not even to look at the pictures.  If you had
+one in every room in the house you wouldn't be any the better for it if
+you never read them, and--and acted 'pon what you're taught there."
+
+"But if you can't see to read," said Mona, trying to find excuses,
+"what's the good of your having a Bible?"
+
+"But you can see, and can read too, and I could till lately, and, anyway,
+you can read to me, and that's what I ought to have got you to do.
+I feel I haven't done my duty by you, child."
+
+Mona threw up her head.  "I don't s'pose we're any worse than some that
+read their Bibles every day," she said, complacently.  She had often heard
+others say that, and thought it rather fine.
+
+"That's not for you or me to say," retorted granny sternly.  "That's the
+excuse folks always bring out when they ain't ashamed of themselves, but
+ought to be.  If we ain't any worse, we ain't any better, and until we are
+we've no right to speak of others; and if we are--why, we shouldn't think
+of doing so.  Most folks, though, who say that, do think themselves a deal
+better than others, though they don't say so in as many words."
+
+Mona stood staring into the fire, thinking matters over.  She was very apt
+to take things to herself, and she was trying to assure herself that she
+never did think herself better than others--not better even than Millie
+Higgins.  But she was not very well satisfied with the result.
+
+Granny's voice died away, the sun went down, and the room began to grow
+dim.  Two lumps of coal fell together, and, bursting into a blaze, roused
+Mona from her reverie.  She turned quickly, and found her grandmother
+gazing at the two halves of the broken tea-cup which she held in her
+hands.  In the light of the fire tears glistened on her cheeks.
+
+Mona felt a sudden great longing to comfort her, to make life happier for
+her.  "Granny, would you have liked me to have read some of my books to
+you sometimes?"
+
+"Very much, dearie.  I always loved a nice story."
+
+"Oh--why ever didn't you say so before."  The words broke from Mona like a
+cry of reproach.  "I didn't know, I never thought--I thought you'd think
+them silly or--or--something."
+
+"I know--it wasn't your fault.  Sometimes I think it'd be better if we
+asked more of each other, and didn't try to be so independent.  It's those
+that you do most for that you care most for--and miss most when they're
+gone!" added granny, half under her breath.
+
+Once again Mona was struck by the curious change in granny's tone and
+manner, and felt a depressing sense of foreboding.
+
+"Would you like me to read to you now, granny?  Out of--of the Bible?"
+She hesitated, as though shy of even speaking the name.
+
+"Yes, dearie, I'd dearly love to hear the 86th Psalm."
+
+Mona hurriedly lifted the big book out from under the mats and odds and
+ends that were arranged on its side.  She had never read aloud from the
+Bible before, and at any other time her shyness would have almost overcome
+her.  To-day, though, she was possessed with a feeling that in the Bible
+she would perhaps find something that would rouse and cheer granny, and
+charm her own fears away, and she was in a hurry to get it and begin.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Patty found Millie Higgins down on the Quay, where she was shouting and
+laughing with five or six others who were playing 'Last Touch.'
+No one would have guessed that she had left two sad and aching hearts and
+a ruined treasure behind her but half an hour ago.
+
+Patty, with a growing scorn in her eyes, stood by talking to Philippa
+Luxmore until the game had finished.  She meant not to lose sight of
+Millie until she had had her say.  Millie caught sight of Patty, though,
+and dashed into another game without any pause.  She did not know that
+Patty had come especially to speak to her, but she did not want to have
+anything to say to Patty--not for a while, at any rate.  She would rather
+wait until the events of the afternoon had been forgotten a little.
+
+Patty guessed, though, what her purpose was, and, after she had waited for
+another game to end, she went boldly up to her.
+
+"Millie," she said, without any beating about the bush, "I've come to ask
+you to go and tell Mrs. Barnes that it was you that broke her beautiful
+tea-set."
+
+Millie coloured, but she only laughed contemptuously.  The rest of the
+little crowd looked on and listened, open-mouthed.  "Dear me!  Have you
+really, Miss Poll Pry!  Well, now you have asked me you can go home again,
+and attend to your own affairs.  We don't want you here."
+
+Patty took no notice of her rudeness.  "Millie," she pleaded, "you will
+tell?  You won't let Mona bear the blame."
+
+"I don't know what you're talking about----"
+
+"Oh, yes, you do.  I saw you come out.  I mean, I thought that was where
+you came from.  I was just going in to speak to Mona myself, and I found
+her----"
+
+"Mona Carne's a sneak."
+
+"No, she isn't."
+
+"Well, she needn't tell her grandmother that she knows anything about it.
+It might have been the wind blew the things over, or a cat.  If I was Mona
+I'd go out to play, and let her come in and find the things."
+
+"Mona couldn't be so mean and underhand.  Mrs. Barnes knows about it
+already, too."
+
+"Then there's no need for me to tell her," retorted Millie, dancing away.
+"Ta-ta, Patty-preacher."
+
+Patty's patience gave out, she could not hide her disgust any longer.
+
+"Millie Higgins, I knew you were a bully and a coward, but I didn't know
+how mean a coward you were."
+
+Her voice rang out shrill with indignation, attracting the attention of
+everyone around.  The children stopped their play to stare; two or three
+people stopped their talk to listen.  They looked from Patty to Millie,
+and back again in shocked surprise.  Patty's voice was not so much angry
+as it was contemptuous, disgusted.  Millie could have better borne anger.
+People would then have thought Patty merely a cross child, and have passed
+on.  Instead of that they looked at her sympathetically, and at Millie
+askance.
+
+Millie walked away with her head in the air, but she was furious.
+"I'll pay her out!" she thought.  "I'll pay her out yet!"  She was so
+angry she could not get out a retort to Patty.  Her words seemed to catch
+in her throat and choke her.
+
+Patty walked away to the end of the Quay, and leaned out over the
+railings, looking towards the sea.  She was disheartened and angry,
+and ashamed of herself.  She was horribly ashamed of having called out
+like that to Millie.  It was a mean, common thing to do.  She felt she
+wanted to get out of sight, to escape the questions and chatter they would
+pour into her ears.  She would wait where she was until everyone else had
+gone home.  If anyone followed her, they would soon go away again when
+they found she would not talk to them.
+
+She got behind a tall stack of boxes, and turned her back on everyone.
+Her face was turned to the sea; her eyes gazed at the heaving waters,
+and the sun setting behind them, but her thoughts were with Mona.
+
+"How she did cry, poor Mona!  I didn't know she cared for her granny so
+much."  Then she wondered what they were doing at that moment, and how
+Mrs. Barnes was taking her loss.  By degrees the sun disappeared
+altogether, and twilight began to creep over her world.  Gradually the
+sounds of play and laughter and gossiping voices ceased.  One by one old
+folks and young went home.
+
+"I'd better go too," thought Patty, "or mother will be wondering where I
+am.  Oh, dear, there's my bootlace untied again!"  Still standing close to
+the edge of the Quay, she had stooped to tie the lace when, suddenly from
+behind, she received a blow in the back which sent her completely off her
+balance.  Reeling forward, she grabbed wildly at the rail to try and save
+herself, but missed it, and with a shriek of terror she fell over the edge
+and into the water below.  With another shriek she disappeared, and the
+water closed over her.
+
+Whence the blow came, or how, she had not time to think.  It seemed to her
+as though the sky had fallen and struck her.  She did not hear another cry
+which broke from someone's throat as her body disappeared, nor hear or see
+Millie Higgins running as though the police were already after her.
+
+Millie's first instinct was to get as far from the scene as possible.
+No one must know that she had been anywhere near the fatal spot.
+Then, fortunately, better and less selfish thoughts came to her.
+Patty was there alone in the deep cold water, in the dimness, fighting for
+her life.  If help did not come to her quickly she would die--and who was
+there to help but herself?
+
+"Patty!" she called.  "Patty! Where are you?"  Her voice rose high and
+shrill with terror.  "Oh, Patty, do speak!"
+
+Then up through the water came a small, dark head and white face, and
+then, to Millie's intense relief, a pair of waving arms.
+
+She was not dead, and she was conscious.  "Oh, thank God!" moaned Millie,
+and for perhaps the first time in her life she really thanked Him, and
+sent up a real prayer from the depths of her heart.
+
+"Patty," she called, "swim towards me.  I'll help you."
+
+Poor Patty heard her, but as one speaking in a dream, for her senses were
+fast leaving her.  Summoning up all the strength she had, she tried to
+obey, but she had only made a few strokes when she suddenly dropped her
+arms and sank again.
+
+With a cry of horror and despair, Millie rushed down and into the water.
+She could not swim, but she did not think of that now.  Nothing else
+mattered if she could but save Patty.  She waded into the water until she
+could scarcely touch the bottom with her feet.  A big wave came rolling
+in; one so big that it seemed as though it must carry her off her feet,
+and away to sea.
+
+It came, but it lifted her back quite close to the steps, and it brought
+poor little unconscious Patty almost close to her feet.
+
+Millie reached out and grabbed her by her hair and her skirt, and gripped
+her tight, but it was not easy.  Patty was a dead weight, and she had to
+keep her own foothold or both would have been carried away as the wave
+receded.  Millie felt desperate.  She could not raise Patty, heavy as she
+was in her water-soaked clothes, and Patty, still unconscious, could not
+help herself.
+
+Fortunately, at that moment, Peter Carne came rowing leisurely homewards,
+and in his boat with him was Patty Row's father.
+
+Millie caught sight of them, and a great sob of relief broke from her.
+She shouted and shouted at the top of her voice, and, clinging to Patty
+with one hand, she waved the other frantically.  "Would they see?
+Would they see?"  She screamed until she felt she had cracked her throat.
+"Oh, what a noise the sea made!" she thought frantically, "how could
+anyone's voice get above it."
+
+They heard or caught sight of her at last.  Her straining eyes saw the
+boat heading for them.  She saw Patty's father spring up and wave to them,
+then seize another pair of oars, and pull till the lumbering great boat
+seemed to skim the waves.  Then strong arms gripped them and lifted them
+into safety, and a moment or two later they were on the Quay once more,
+and hurrying homewards.
+
+Before she had been in her father's arms for many minutes Patty opened her
+big blue eyes, and looked about her wonderingly.
+
+"Where--am--I?" she asked, through her chattering teeth.
+
+"You're in your old dad's arms now," said her father, brokenly, but with
+an attempt at a smile, "but you'll be rolled up in blankets in a few
+minutes, and popped into bed.  It's where you have been that matters most.
+How did you come to be taking a dip at this time, little maid, and with
+your boots on too?"
+
+"I fell in," whispered Patty, and closed her eyes again as the tiresome
+faintness crept over her.
+
+"It was my fault," sobbed Millie, thoroughly subdued and softened,
+and slightly hysterical too.  "I--I didn't mean to push her into the
+water----"
+
+"It was an accident," said Patty, coming back out of her dreaminess.
+"I was stooping down--and overbalanced--that was all.  I was tying up my
+boot-lace."  And as she insisted on this, and would say nothing more,
+everyone decided that there was nothing more to say; and, as she had
+received no real injury, and was soon out and about again, the matter was
+gradually forgotten--by all, at least, but the two actors in what might
+have been an awful tragedy.
+
+Patty received no real injury, but it was a very white and tired little
+Patty who called on Mona on the following Sunday to go with her to Sunday
+School.
+
+Mona, having a shrewd suspicion that Patty could have told much more if
+she had chosen, was longing to ask questions, but Patty was not
+encouraging.
+
+"Did you think you were really going to die?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," said Patty, simply.
+
+"What did it feel like?  Were you----"
+
+"I can't tell you." Patty's voice was very grave.  "Don't ask me, Mona.
+It's--it's too solemn to talk about."
+
+When they reached the school-yard gate, Millie Higgins came towards them.
+"Then you're able to come, Patty!  I'm so glad."  There was real feeling
+in Millie's words.  Her voice was full of an enormous relief.  Mona was
+astonished.  She herself did not look at Millie or speak to her.  She had
+not forgiven her for that afternoon's work, and she more than suspected
+her of being the cause of Patty's accident.
+
+As Millie did not move away, Mona strolled across with Patty still
+clinging to her arm, to where a group of girls stood talking together.
+Millie Higgins, with a rush of colour to her face, turned away and joined
+another group, but the group apparently did not see her, for none of them
+spoke to her, and Millie very soon moved away again to where two girls
+stood together, but as she approached the two they hastily linked arms
+and, turning their back on her, walked into the schoolroom.  Mona noticed
+both incidents, and, beginning to suspect something, kept both eyes and
+ears open.  Her suspicions were soon confirmed.
+
+"I believe that all the girls are giving Millie the cold shoulder,"
+she whispered at last in Patty's ear.  "They must have planned it all
+before.  You just watch for a few minutes.  She has been up to ever so
+many, and then, as soon as they notice her, they move away.  I wonder
+what's the meaning of it?  Millie notices it herself.  You just look at
+her.  She's as uncomfortable as she can be."
+
+Patty raised her head sharply, and followed the direction of Mona's eyes.
+Millie was just joining on to a group of four or five.  Patty saw a glance
+exchanged, and two girls turned on their heels at once; then another, and
+another, until Millie, with scared face and eyes full of shame and pain,
+stood alone once more.  She looked ready to cry with mortification.
+
+Patty, her face rosy with indignation, called across the yard to her; her
+clear voice raised so that all should hear.  "Millie, will you come for a
+walk when we come out of school this afternoon?"  Then going over and
+thrusting her arm through Millie's, she led her back to where Mona was
+still standing.
+
+"Mona is going, too, ain't you, Mona?  I don't know, though, if we shall
+have much time for a walk; we're going to the Library to choose a book
+each.  Which do you think Mona would like?"
+
+But Millie could not answer.  The unkindness she had met with that morning
+and the kindness had stabbed deep; so deep that her eyes were full of
+tears, and her throat choked with sobs.  Mona, looking up, saw it, and all
+her resentment against her faded.
+
+"I wish you'd come, too, Millie, and help us choose," she said.  "You read
+so much, you know which are the nicest."
+
+"All right," said Millie, in a choked kind of voice.  "I'd love to."
+And then the doors opened, and they all trooped into their places.
+
+When they came out from the morning service each went home with her own
+people.  Patty, looking fragile and pale, was helped along by her father.
+Mona joined her father and grandmother.  She was quiet, and had very
+little to say.
+
+"Did you like your class?" asked granny.  She was a little puzzled by
+Mona's manner.  She had expected her to be full of excitement.
+
+"Yes, I liked it very much," but she did not add anything more then.
+It was not until evening, when they were sitting together in the
+firelight, that she opened her heart on the subject.  "I wish I'd known
+our teacher all my life," she said, with a sigh.
+
+"Why, dearie?"
+
+"Oh--I don't know--gran--but she makes you see things, and she makes you
+feel so--so--well as if you do want to be good, and yet you feel you want
+to cry."
+
+"Try and tell me what she said," said granny.  "Perhaps 'twould help an
+old body, too."
+
+But Mona could not do that, nor could she put her feelings into words very
+well.  "I'll read to you instead, if you'd like me to, granny."
+
+When Millie Higgins had come out of church she had walked rapidly
+homewards by herself.  Patty and her father had gone on.  Mona was with
+her father and grandmother, and Millie felt that she could not face Mrs.
+Barnes just then.  She was fighting a big fight with herself, and she had
+not won yet.  But in the afternoon, when they came out of the school
+library, the two walked together.  They took Patty home, because she was
+too tired to do any more that day.  Then Mona and Millie hesitated,
+looking at each other.  "I must go home, too," said Mona.  "I thought I'd
+have been able to go for a walk, but it's too late.  Granny'll be
+expecting me."
+
+Millie looked at her without speaking, half turned to leave her,
+hesitated, and finally walked on at Mona's side.  She seemed nervous and
+embarrassed, but Mona did not notice it.  She did not realize anything of
+the struggle going on in Millie's mind.  She was too much occupied in
+glancing at the pictures in her book, and reading a sentence here and
+there.
+
+"I'm longing to begin it.  I think granny'll like it too."
+
+Millie did not answer, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
+When they reached the house Mona stood for a moment without opening the
+door.  She was somewhat troubled in her mind as to what to do.  She did
+not want to ask Millie in, yet she was afraid of hurting her feelings by
+not doing so.  Millie stood, and did not say good-bye.  Her cheeks were
+flushed, and she was evidently very nervous.
+
+"May I come in?" she asked at last.  "Yes, do come inside."  Mona was a
+little surprised at Millie's daring, and not too well pleased, but she
+tried to speak cordially.  Opening the door, she went in first.
+"Granny, here's Millie Higgins come to see you.  She's been to school with
+Patty and me, and we've walked back together!"
+
+Mrs. Barnes was sitting in her chair by the fire.  "Well, Millie," she
+said kindly.  "It's a long time since I've seen you.  Sit down."
+Whether she suspected the truth neither of the girls could make out.
+Millie grew even redder in the cheeks, and looked profoundly
+uncomfortable.
+
+"I--I've come to say--" she burst out in a jerky, nervous fashion,
+"I--I came here on Wednesday--when you were out, and I--behaved badly--"
+She hesitated, broke down, looked at the door as though she would have
+dashed out through it, had it only been open, then in one rush poured out
+the words that had been repeating and repeating themselves in her brain
+all that day.
+
+"I'm very sorry I broke your beautiful set, Mrs. Barnes.  I'm--ever so
+sorry, I--don't know what to do about it----"
+
+Mona, guided by some sense of how she would have felt under the
+circumstances, had disappeared on the pretence of filling a kettle.
+She knew how much harder it is to make a confession if others are looking
+on and listening.
+
+"Oh!" said Mrs. Barnes, gravely, "was it you that broke my china?
+I didn't know."
+
+Millie stared with astonishment.  "Didn't--Mona tell you?" she gasped,
+quite taken aback.  She could scarcely believe her own ears.
+Granny Barnes shook her head.  "No, I didn't know but what she did it
+herself.  I believe little Patty did say that she didn't, but I was too
+upset to take in what was said.  My precious tea-set was broken, and it
+didn't seem to me to matter who did it."
+
+Millie was silent for a moment or so.  "Well, I did it," she said at last.
+"I threw a cushion at Mona, and it hit the china behind her!  I've felt
+dreadful about it ever since, and I--I didn't dare to come near you.
+I don't know what to do about it, Mrs. Barnes.  Can it be mended?" she
+added, colouring hotly again.  "I--I mean I've got some money in the bank.
+I'll gladly pay for it to be mended, if it can be."
+
+"I don't know, Millie.  Perhaps one or two bits can--but nothing can ever
+make the set perfect again."  Mrs. Barnes' voice quavered, and tears came
+into her eyes.  "But I wouldn't let you pay for it.  We won't talk any
+more about it--I can't.  P'raps I set too much store by the things."
+She got up from her seat, and stood, leaning heavily on the table.
+"It's all right, Millie.  I'm very glad you came and told me you did it.
+Yes, I'm very glad of that.  Now we'll try and forget all about it."
+
+Millie burst into tears, and moved away towards the door.
+
+"Stay and have some tea with Mona and me," Granny urged, hospitably.
+"Don't run away, Millie."
+
+But Millie felt that she must go.  She wanted to be alone.  "I--I think
+I'd rather not--not now, thank you.  I'll come--another day, if you will
+ask me."  Then she hurried out, and up the hill, thankful that it was
+tea-time, and that nearly everyone was indoors.  She quickly turned off
+the main road into a little frequented narrow lane, and by way of that to
+the wide stretch of wild land which crowned the top of the hill.
+She wanted to be alone, and free, to fight out her battle alone.
+
+"If I'd known Mona hadn't told--"  The mean thought would try to take root
+in her mind, but she weeded it out and trampled on it.  In her heart she
+was profoundly impressed by Mona's conduct, and she was glad, devoutly
+glad, that she had not been less honourable and courageous.  She could
+face people now, and not feel a sneak or a coward.
+
+In all her life after Millie never forgot her walk on that sunny summer
+evening.  The charm and beauty, the singing of the birds, the scent of the
+furze and the heather, the peace of it, after the storms she had lived
+through lately, sank deep into her soul.
+
+Her wickedness of the past week had frightened her.  "I felt I didn't care
+what I did, I was so wild with Mona.  I wonder I didn't do more harm than
+I did.  And then Patty, poor little Patty.  I nearly drowned her!
+Oh-h-h!"  She buried her face and shuddered at the remembrance.
+"I knew she'd fall into the water if I pushed her, so it was as bad as
+being a murderer.  If she had died--and she nearly did--I should have been
+one, and I should have been in jail now, and--oh, I _will_ try to be good,
+I _will_ try to be better!"
+
+Long shadows were falling across the road as she went down the hill,
+on her homeward way.  The flowers in Lucy Carne's garden were giving out
+their evening scent.  Lucy, standing enjoying them, looked up as Millie
+came along, and nodded.
+
+"Wouldn't you like a flower to wear?" she asked.
+
+Millie paused.  "I'd love one," she said, looking in over the low stone
+wall.  "I never smell any so sweet as yours, Mrs. Carne."
+
+Lucy gathered her a spray of pink roses, and some white jessamine.
+"There," she said, "fasten those in your blouse.  Isn't the scent
+beautiful?  I don't think one could do anything bad, or think anything
+bad, with flowers like those under one's eyes and nose, do you?"
+
+"Don't you?" questioned Millie, doubtfully.  "I don't believe anything
+would keep me good."
+
+Lucy looked at her in faint surprise.  It was not like Millie to speak
+with so much feeling.  "You don't expect me to believe that," she began,
+half laughing; then stopped, for there were still traces of tears about
+Millie's eyes, and a tremulousness about her lips, and Lucy knew that she
+was really in need of help.
+
+"I know that you've got more courage than most of us, Millie," she added
+gently.  "If you would only use it in the right way.  Perhaps my little
+flowers will remind you to."
+
+"I hope they will.  I wish they would," said Millie, fastening them in her
+coat.  "Goodbye."
+
+Before she reached her own home Millie saw her father out at the door
+looking for her.  As a rule, it made her angry to be watched for in this
+way, "Setting all the neighbours talking," as she put it.  But to-day her
+conscience really pricked her, and she was prepared to be amiable.
+Her father, though, was not prepared to be amiable.  He had got a
+headache, and he wanted his tea.  He had been wanting it for an hour and
+more.
+
+"Where have you been gallivanting all this time, I'd like to know.
+I'll be bound you've been a may-gaming somewhere as you didn't ought to on
+a Sunday, your dooty to me forgotten."
+
+To Millie this sounded unjust and cruel.  She had let her duties slip from
+her for a while, but she had been neither may-gaming nor wasting her time.
+Indeed, she had been in closer touch with better things and nobler aims
+than ever in her life before, and in her new mood her father's words
+jarred and hurt her.  An angry retort rose to her lips.
+
+"I haven't been with anybody," she replied sharply.  "I've been for a walk
+by myself, that's all.  It's hard if I can't have a few minutes for myself
+sometimes."  But, in putting up her hand to remove her hat, she brushed
+her flowers roughly, and her angry words died away.  In return for a blow
+they gave out a breath of such sweetness that Millie could not but heed
+it.  "I--I was thinking, and I forgot about tea-time," she added in a
+gentler voice.  "But I won't be long getting it now, father."
+
+While the kettle was coming to the boil she laid the cloth and cut some
+bread and butter; then she went to the larder and brought out an apple
+pie.  With all her faults, Millie was a good cook, and looked after her
+father well.
+
+He looked at her preparations approvingly, and his brow cleared.
+"You're a good maid, Millie," he said, as he helped the pie, while Millie
+poured out the tea.  "I'm sorry I spoke a bit rough just now.  I didn't
+really mean anything.  I was only a bit put out."
+
+Millie's heart glowed with pride and pleasure.  "That's all right,
+father," and then she added, almost shyly, "I--I'd no business to--to
+forget the time, and stay out so long."  It was the first time in her life
+she had admitted she was wrong when her father had been vexed with her and
+given her a scolding.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Lucy Carne knocked at Granny Barnes' door, and waited.  She had a little
+nosegay of flowers in her hand and a plate of fresh fish. Almost every day
+she brought granny something, even if it was only a simple flower, and
+granny loved her little 'surprises.'
+
+Lucy waited a moment, hearing a voice inside, then she knocked again, and
+louder.
+
+"I do believe Mona's reading to her again, and they've forgotten their
+tea!"
+
+Getting no answer even now, Lucy opened the door a little way and popped
+her head in.  "May I come in?  I don't know what world you two are living
+in to-day, but I knocked twice and I couldn't reach you."
+
+Mona carefully placed the marker in her book and closed it, but
+reluctantly.  Miss Lester, her Sunday School teacher, had given her the
+marker.  It was a strip of ribbon with fringed ends, and with her name
+painted on it, and a spray of white jessamine.  Every girl who had joined
+the library had had one.  Some were blue, some red, some white, and the
+rest orange colour.  Mona's was red.  She was glad, for she liked red, and
+the delicate white flower looked lovely on it, she thought.  Miss Lester
+had painted them herself, and the girls prized them beyond anything.
+
+Mona's eyes lingered on hers as she closed the book.  It was rather hard
+to have to leave her heroine just at that point, and set about getting
+tea.  She did wish Lucy had not come for another ten minutes.
+
+Granny looked up with a little rueful smile.  "I felt it was tea-time,"
+she said, "but I thought Mona would like to finish out the chapter, and
+then before we knew what we were doing we had begun another.  It's a
+pretty tale.  I wish you had been hearing it too, Lucy.  It's called
+'Queechy.'  A funny sort of a name, to my mind."
+
+"'Queechy'!--why, I read that years ago, and I've read it again since I've
+been married.  I borrowed it from mother when I was so ill that time.
+Mother had it given to her as a prize by her Bible-class teacher.
+She thinks the world of it.  So do I.  I love it."
+
+"I'm longing to get to the end," said Mona, turning over the pages
+lingeringly.  "There's only three chapters more."
+
+"Oh, well, that's enough for another reading or two," said Granny.
+"They are long chapters.  It would be a pity to hurry over them just for
+the sake of reaching the end.  We'll have a nice time to-morrow, dearie.
+I shall be sorry when it's all done."
+
+But Mona was impatient.  "To-morrow!  Nobody knows what may happen before
+to-morrow.  Something is sure to come along and prevent anybody's doing
+what they want to do," she said crossly.
+
+Granny looked at her with grieved eyes.  "I think you generally manage to
+do what you want to, Mona," she said, gravely.  "I don't think you can
+have profited much by what you've read," she added, and turned to Lucy.
+
+Mona laid down her book with a sigh.  "It's much easier to read about
+being good than to be good oneself," she thought.
+
+Lucy came in from the scullery with a vase full of water.  "I'll have a
+few nice flowers for you to take to Miss Lester on Sunday, Mona, if you'll
+come and fetch them."
+
+"Thank you," said Mona, but she looked and spoke glumly.  She was still
+vexed with Lucy for coming in and interrupting them.  She did not know
+that Lucy came in at meal-times just to make sure that granny had her
+meals, for Mona thought nothing of being an hour late with them if she was
+occupied in some other way.
+
+"Don't trouble about it, if you don't care to have them," Lucy added
+quietly.  And Mona felt reproved.
+
+"I'd like to," she said, looking ashamed of herself.  "Miss Lester loves
+having flowers.  I'll run up on Saturday evening for them, mother.
+They'll be better for being in water all night."
+
+"That's right.  Now, I'll cook the fish while you lay the cloth. Granny'll
+be fainting if we don't give her something to eat and drink soon.  I
+should have been down before, but I had to see father off."
+
+"Will he be out all night?" Granny asked, anxiously.  She never got over
+her dread of the sea at night.
+
+"Yes.  If they get much of a catch they'll take it in to Baymouth to land.
+The 'buyers' will be there to-morrow.  I'm hoping Peter'll be back in the
+afternoon.  These are fine whiting.  You like whiting, don't you, mother?"
+
+"Yes, very much.  It's kind of you to bring them.  I feel now how badly I
+was wanting my tea.  You'll have some with us?"
+
+"I think I will.  I was so busy getting Peter off that I didn't have
+anything myself."
+
+Mona laid the cloth with extra care.  Lucy's vase of stocks stood at one
+corner.  Though it was August, the wind was cold, and the little bit of
+fire in the grate made the kitchen very pleasant and cosy.
+
+"I've got a bit of news for you, Mona," said Lucy, coming back from
+putting away the frying-pan.  "Mrs. Luxmore told me that Miss Lester is
+engaged.  Had you heard it?"
+
+"Oh, no!  What, my Miss Lester?  Miss Grace?"  Mona was intensely
+interested.  "Oh, I am so glad.  Who is she engaged to, mother?"
+
+"Why, Dr. Edwards!  Isn't it nice!  Doesn't it seem just right?" Lucy was
+almost as excited as Mona.  "I am so glad she isn't going to marry a
+stranger, and leave Seacombe."
+
+"Can it be true! really true?"
+
+"It's true enough.  Mrs. Luxmore told me.  Her husband works two days a
+week at Mrs. Lester's, and Mrs. Lester told him her very own self. So it
+must be true, mustn't it?"
+
+Mona's thoughts had already flown to the wedding.  "We girls in Miss
+Grace's class ought to give her a wedding present.  What would be a nice
+thing to give her?  And, oh, mother!"  Mona clapped her hands in a fresh
+burst of excitement.  "I wonder if she will let us all go to the wedding
+and strew roses in her path as she comes out of the church--"
+
+"It'll depend a good deal on what time of the year the wedding is to be,"
+remarked granny, drily.  But Mona's mind was already picturing the scene.
+
+"We ought all to be dressed in white, with white shoes and stockings, and
+gloves, and some should wear pink round their waists and in their hats,
+and the rest should have blue, and those that wear pink should throw white
+roses, and those that wear blue should throw pink roses. Wouldn't it look
+sweet?  I'd rather wear blue, because I've got a blue sash."
+
+A door banged upstairs, and made them all jump.  "Why, how the wind is
+rising!" said Lucy, in a frightened voice.  She hurried to the window and
+looked out anxiously.  "Oh, dear! and I was hoping it was going to be
+pretty still to-night."
+
+"What I'd give if Peter was a ploughman, or a carpenter!" cried granny,
+almost irritably.  "I don't know how you can bear it, Lucy, always to have
+the fear of the sea dogging you day and night!" Her own face had grown
+quite white.
+
+"I couldn't bear it," said Lucy quietly, "if I didn't feel that wherever
+he is God's hand is over him just the same."  She came back and stood by
+the fire, gazing with wistful eyes into its glowing heart.
+
+"But sailors and fishermen do get drowned," urged Mona, putting her fears
+into words in the hope of getting comfort.
+
+"And ploughmen and carpenters meet with their deaths, too.  We've got our
+work to do, and we can't all choose the safest jobs.  Some must take the
+risks.  And no matter what our work is, death'll come to us all one day.
+Some of us who sit at home, die a hundred deaths thinking of those
+belonging to us and the risks they are facing."
+
+Then, seeing that granny was really nervous, Lucy led the talk to other
+things, though, in that little place, with nothing to break the force of
+the wind, or deaden the noise of the waves, it was not easy to get one's
+mind away from either.  "I don't suppose it is very bad, really," said
+Lucy, comfortingly.  "It always sounds a lot here, but the men laugh at me
+when I talk of 'the gale' blowing.  'You must wait till you hear the real
+thing,' they say.  But I tell them I have heard the real thing, and it
+began quietly enough.  Now, Mona, you and I will put away the tea things,
+shall we?"
+
+"You won't go home before you really need to, will you?" asked granny.
+"It'll be a long and wearying time you'll have alone there, waiting for
+morning.  Oh, I wish it was morning now," she added, almost passionately,
+"and the night over, and the storm.  I do long for rest."
+
+Lucy looked at her anxiously, surprised by the feeling in her voice. "Why,
+mother! you mustn't worry yourself like that.  It's nothing of a wind yet,
+and it may die down again quite soon.  I think it was a mistake letting
+you come to live on this side of the road, where you feel the wind so much
+more.  If I were you I'd move up nearer to us the first time there's a
+place to let.  You feel just as I do about the storms, and it's only those
+that do who understand how hard it is to bear."
+
+Granny nodded, but she did not answer.  She turned to Mona. "Wouldn't you
+like to go for a run before bedtime?" she asked. "The air'll do you good,
+and help you to sleep."
+
+"I didn't want her to get nervous just before bedtime," she confided to
+Lucy when Mona had gone.  "I try not to let her see how nervous I get--but
+sometimes one can't help but show it."
+
+Mona did not need any urging.  Her thoughts were full of Miss Lester's
+coming marriage and her own plans for it, and ever since she had heard the
+news she had been longing to go out and spread it and talk it over.
+
+"Patty ought to wear blue, to match her eyes; Millie will be sure to
+choose pink, she has had such a fancy for pink ever since she had that
+print frock."
+
+But when she reached the Quay she met with disappointment.  There was
+hardly anyone there but some boys playing 'Prisoners.'  Certainly it was
+not very tempting there that evening, the wind was cold and blustery, and
+both sea and sky were grey and depressing.  Mona was glad to come away
+into the shelter of the street.
+
+She looked about her for someone to talk to, but, seeing no one, she made
+her way home again.  It was very aggravating having to keep her great
+ideas bottled up till morning, but it could not be helped. When she
+reached home again, Lucy was still there, but she had her hat on ready to
+start.
+
+"I wish you hadn't to go," said Granny Barnes, wistfully.  "I wish you
+could stay here the night."
+
+Lucy looked at her anxiously.  "Are you feeling very nervous, mother?
+Would you rather I stayed?  I will if you wish."
+
+"No,--oh, no," granny protested, though she would have liked it above all
+things.  "I wasn't thinking about myself; I was thinking about you, up
+there all alone."
+
+"Oh, I shall be all right.  I am getting used to it.  Now you go to bed
+early, and try to go to sleep, then you won't notice the weather. You are
+looking dreadfully tired.  Good night--good night, Mona."
+
+"I think I'll do as Lucy said," said granny a little while later. "I'm
+feeling tireder than ever in my life before.  If I was in bed now this
+minute, I believe I could sleep.  If I once got off I feel as if I could
+sleep for ever."  And by half-past eight the house was shut up, and they
+had gone to bed.
+
+Granny, at least, had gone to bed, and had fallen almost at once into a
+heavy slumber.  Mona was more wakeful.  The news of her teacher's
+engagement had excited her, and not having been able to talk it out, her
+brain was seething with ideas.
+
+She put out her candle, drew back her curtains, and looked out into the
+gathering darkness.  An air of gloom and loneliness reigned over
+everything.  Far out she could see white caps on the waves, but not a
+boat, or vessel of any kind.  The sky looked full and lowering.
+
+With a little shiver Mona drew her curtains again and relighted her
+candle.  As it flickered and burnt up, her eyes fell on the book so
+reluctantly put aside until to-morrow.
+
+"Oh, I wish I could have just a little read," she thought, longingly.
+"Just a look to see what happens next."
+
+She took up the book and opened it, glancing over the chapters she had
+read--then she turned to the one she and granny were going to read
+to-morrow.  Her eyes travelled greedily over a few paragraphs, then she
+turned the page.  Presently she grew tired of standing, and sat on the
+side of the bed, lost to everything but the pages she was devouring
+hungrily.  The wind blew her curtains about, the rain drove against the
+panes, but Mona did not heed either.  She had drawn herself up on the bed
+by that time and, leaning up against her pillows, was reading comfortably
+by the light of the candle close beside her.  She was miles away from her
+real surroundings, and driving with Fleda in England, and no other world
+existed for her.
+
+Her eyelids growing heavy, she closed them for a moment.  She didn't know
+that she had closed them, and imagined she was still reading. She was very
+surprised, though, presently, to find that what she thought she had been
+reading was not on the open pages before her. She rubbed her tiresomely
+heavy lids and looked again; then she raised herself on her elbow and
+began again at the top of the mysterious page, and all went well for a
+paragraph or two.  Fleda was walking now alone, through a grassy glade.
+Oh, how lovely it was--but what a long walk to be taking in such a high
+wind.  Mona forced open one eye, and let the other rest a moment.  "The
+trees sometimes swept back, leaving an opening, and at other places,"
+stretched--stretched, yes it was, "stretched their branches over,"--over
+--but how the wind roared in the trees, and what a pity that someone
+should have had a bonfire just there, the smell was suffocating--and the
+heat!  How could she bear it!  And, oh, dear!  How dazzling the sun was--
+or the bonfire; the whole wood would be on fire if they did not take care!
+Oh, the suffocating smoke!
+
+Mona--or was she Fleda?--gasped and panted.  If relief did--not--come
+soon--she could not draw--another breath.  She felt she was paralysed--
+helpless--dying--and the wind--so much--air--somewhere--she was trying
+to say, when suddenly, from very, very far away she heard her own name
+being called.  It sounded like 'Mona'--not Fleda--and--yet, somehow she
+knew that it was she who was meant.
+
+"Oh--what--do they--want!" she  thought wearily.  "I can't go. I'm----"
+
+"Mona! Mona!"  She heard it again; her own name, and called frantically,
+and someone was shaking her, and saying something about a fire, and then
+she seemed to be dragged up bodily and carried away. "Oh, what rest! and
+how nice to be out of that awful heat--she would have--died--if--if--"
+Then she felt the cold air blowing on her face, the dreadful dragging pain
+in her chest was gone, she could breathe! She opened her eyes and looked
+about her--and for the first time was sure that she was dreaming.
+
+The other was real enough, but this could only be a dream, for she was
+lying on the pavement in the street, in the middle of the night, with
+people standing all about staring down at her.  They were people she knew,
+she thought, yet they all looked so funny.  Someone was kneeling beside
+her, but in a strange red glow which seemed to light up the darkness, she
+could not recognise the face.  Her eyelids fell, in spite of herself, but
+she managed to open them again very soon, and this time she saw the black
+sky high above her; rain fell on her face.  The red glow went up and down;
+sometimes it was brilliant, sometimes it almost disappeared, and all the
+time there was a strange crackling, hissing noise going on, and a horrible
+smell.
+
+By degrees she felt a little less dazed and helpless.  She tried to put
+out her hands to raise herself, but she could not move them. They were
+fastened to her sides.  She saw then that she was wrapped in a blanket.
+
+"What--ever--has happened!" she asked sharply.
+
+"There has been an accident--a fire.  Your house is on fire--didn't you
+know?"
+
+"Fire!--our house--on fire!"  Mona sat upright, and looked about her in a
+bewildered way.  Could it be that she was having those dreadful things
+said to her.  She had often wondered how people felt, what they thought--
+what they did, when they had suddenly to face so dreadful a thing.
+
+"Where's granny?" she asked abruptly--almost violently.
+
+There was a moment's silence.  Then Patty Row's mother said in a
+breathless, hesitating way, "Nobody--no one knows yet, Mona. Nor how the
+house was set on fire," she added, hastily, as though anxious to give Mona
+something else to think of.  "Some say the wind must have blown down the
+kitchen chimney and scattered some red-hot coals about the floor."
+
+"But 'twas the top part of the house that was burning first along," broke
+in old Tom Harris.  "Mrs. Carne saw smoke and fire coming through the
+bedroom windows and the roof."
+
+"The top part!--where granny was sleeping!"  Mona threw open the blanket
+and struggled to her feet.  "Oh, do stop talking, and tell me--hasn't
+anyone found granny?"  Her question ended almost in a scream.
+
+"They--they're getting her----" said somebody.  The rest preserved an
+ominous silence.
+
+"There's a chain of men handing up buckets of water through the back
+garden," said someone else, as though trying to distract her thoughts.
+"They'll soon get the fiercest of the fire down."
+
+"But--but think of granny.  We can't wait for that.  She's in the fire all
+this time.  She was in bed.  Hasn't anyone been to her? Oh, they must
+have.  They can't have left her--an old woman--to save herself!"
+
+Mona was beside herself with the horror of the thing.
+
+"They tried," said Mrs. Row, gently, "but they were beaten back.
+Mrs. Carne tried until she was--There!  She's gone--Mona's gone!"
+Her explanation ended in a scream.  "Oh, stop her--somebody, do, she'll be
+killed."
+
+"It'd have been sensibler to have told her the truth at once," said Tom
+Harris, impatiently.  "She's got to know, poor maid.  Now we shall have
+another life thrown away, more than likely, and Mrs. Carne with a broken
+leg, and nobody knows what other damage."
+
+Slipping through the crowd in the darkness, Mona, in a perfect frenzy of
+fear, dashed into the house.  All she was conscious of was hot anger
+against all those who stood about talking and looking on and doing
+nothing, while granny lay helpless in her bed suffocating, perhaps
+burning; were they mad!--did they want granny to die?--didn't they care,
+that no one made any attempt to save her.  Through the semi-darkness, the
+haze of smoke and steam, she heard people, and voices, but she could not
+see anyone.  The heat was fearful, and the smell of burning made her feel
+sick.
+
+She groped her way stumblingly through the kitchen.  The furniture seemed
+to her to be scattered about as though on purpose to hinder her, but she
+kept along by the dressers as well as she could. They would be a guide,
+she thought.  "Poor tea-set!  There will be little of it left now."
+Her fingers touched something soft. Lucy's stocks, still in the vase.
+At last she found herself at the foot of the staircase.  The door was
+closed.  Someone had wisely shut it to check the rush of air up it.
+After a struggle, Mona managed to open it again, and fell back before the
+overpowering heat and the smoke which choked and blinded her.  She clapped
+her hand over her nose and mouth, and crouching down, dragged herself a
+little way up, lying almost flat on her face, she was so desperate now
+with the horror of it all, beside herself.  Ahead of her was what looked
+like a blazing furnace.  All around her was an awful roaring, the noise of
+burning, broken into every now and again by a crash, after which the red
+light blazed out brighter, and the roaring redoubled.
+
+How could anyone live in such a furnace.  An awful cry of despair broke
+from her parched throat.  "Granny!" she screamed.  "Oh, granny! Where are
+you?  I can't reach--"  Another crash, and a blazing beam fell across the
+head of the burning staircase.
+
+"Granny! Oh, God save my----"  But before she could finish she was seized
+by strong arms and lifted up, and then darkness fell on her brain, and she
+knew no more.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+When poor Lucy Carne next opened her eyes and came back with a sigh to the
+horrors and suffering of which she had for a time been mercifully
+unconscious, her first thought was for her husband.
+
+"Has the boat come in?  Did the storm die down?--or did it get worse?
+Has anyone heard or seen anything of my husband?"  She panted feebly.
+But before they could answer her, she had floated off again into a
+troubled delirium.
+
+"Oh, the wind!  Oh, the awful wind!" she kept on repeating.  "Oh, can't
+anything stop it!  It's fanning the flames to fury; it's blowing them
+towards granny's room.  Oh, the noise--I must find her--I must save her--
+she's so feeble.  Oh, granny! Granny!"  Her voice would end in a scream,
+followed by a burst of tears; then she would begin again.
+
+Once or twice she had recovered consciousness, and then had asked for her
+husband or Mona.  "Is she badly hurt?--will she get over it?"
+
+The nurse soothed and comforted her, and did all she could.  "She isn't
+conscious yet, but they think she will be soon.  She's got slight
+concussion, and she has cut herself a bit--but she will do all right if
+she gets over the shock.  They are keeping her very quiet; it is the only
+way.  You must try not to scream and call out, dear.  For if she began to
+come round and heard you, it might be very, very serious for her."
+
+After that Lucy lay trying hard to keep fast hold of her senses.
+"Don't let me scream!" she pleaded.  "Put something over my head if I
+begin.  I can keep myself quiet as long as I have my senses--but when they
+drift away--I--don't know what I do.  I didn't know I made a noise.
+Oh--h--h!" as some slight movement racked her with pain.
+
+"Poor dear," said Nurse.  "I expect you're feeling your bruises now, and
+your leg."
+
+"I seem to be one big lump of pain," sighed poor Lucy.  "But I don't mind
+if only Mona pulls through, and Peter is safe.  Oh, my poor husband--what
+a home-coming!"
+
+"Now try not to dwell on it.  You'll only get yourself worse, and for his
+sake, poor man, you ought to try and get well as fast as you can.
+There, look at those flowers Patty Row has brought you.  Aren't they
+sweet!"
+
+"Oh, my!" Lucy drew in deep breaths of their fragrance.  "Stocks, and
+sweet-brier--oh, how lovely!  They'll help to take away the--smell of the
+burning."  Then her mind seemed to float away again, but not this time
+through a raging furnace, but through sweet-scented gardens, and sunlight,
+and soft pure air.
+
+When she came back to the hospital ward again, Nurse smiled at her with
+eyes full of pleasure.  "I've good news for you," she said, bending low,
+so that her words might quite reach the poor dazed brain.  "Your husband
+is safe!"
+
+"Oh, thank God!  Thank God!"  Her eyes swam in tears of joy.  "Does--he
+know?" she asked a moment later, her face full of anxiety.  The thought of
+his sad home-coming was anguish to her.
+
+Nurse nodded.  "Yes, dear, he knows.  The Vicar went to Baymouth by the
+first train and brought him back.  He did not want him to have the news
+blurted out to him without any preparation."
+
+"How very kind!  How is he?  Peter, I mean.  Is he feeling it very badly?
+Oh, I wish I could be there to help him, to comfort him.  He'll be so
+lonely--and there will be so much to do."
+
+"My dear, he won't want for help.  Everyone is ready and anxious to do
+what they can.  Of course, he is upset.  He wouldn't be the man he is if
+he wasn't.  It is all a terrible shock to him!  But it might have been so
+much worse.  He is so thankful that you and Mona are safe.  He doesn't
+give a single thought to himself."
+
+"He never does," said Lucy, half-smiling, half-weeping.  "That's why he
+needs me to take thought of him.  When may I see him, Nurse?"
+
+"That's what he is asking.  If you keep very quiet now, and have a nice
+sleep, perhaps you'll be strong enough for just a peep at him when you
+wake up."
+
+"I'll lie still, and be very quiet, but I can't promise to sleep."
+She did sleep, though, in spite of herself, for when next she turned her
+head to see if the hands of the clock had moved at all, she found her
+husband sitting beside her, smiling at her.
+
+"Why, however did you get here, dear?  I never saw you come--nor heard a
+sound."
+
+"I reckon I must have growed up out of the floor," said Peter, bending to
+kiss her.  "Well, my girl, this isn't where I expected to see 'ee when I
+came back--but I'm so thankful to find you at all, I can't think of
+anything else."
+
+"Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you've come," she cried, clinging to him
+passionately.  "I never thought we should meet again in this world.
+Oh! Peter--what we've been through!  Oh! That night!  That awful night!"
+
+He patted her soothingly, holding her hand in his.  "I know, I know--but
+you must try not to dwell on it.  If you throw yourself back, I shan't be
+allowed to come again."
+
+Lucy put a great restraint upon herself.  "They've told you:--poor granny
+is dead?" she whispered, but more calmly.
+
+"Yes--they've told me.  I believe I know the worst now.  I've one bit of
+comfort, though, for all of us.  I've just seen the doctor, and he says
+she was dead before the fire reached her.  She must have died almost as
+soon as she lay down."
+
+Then Lucy broke down and wept from sheer relief.  "Oh, thank God," she
+said, fervently, "for taking her to Himself, and sparing her the horrors
+of that awful night.  Thank Him, too, for Mona's sake.  The thought that
+granny perished in the fire because no one reached her in time would have
+been the worst of all the thoughts weighing on her mind.  She will be
+spared that now."
+
+At that moment, though, Mona was troubled by no thoughts at all.  She lay
+in her bed in the ward just as they had placed her there hours before,
+absolutely unconscious.  If it had not been for the faint beating of her
+heart she might have been taken for dead.  Doctors came and looked at her
+and went away again, the day nurses went off duty, and the night nurses
+came on and went off again, but still she showed no sign of life.
+With her head and her arms swathed in bandages, she lay with her eyes
+closed, her lips slightly parted.  It was not until the following day, the
+day Granny Barnes was laid to rest in the little churchyard on the hill,
+that she opened her eyes on this world once more, and glanced about her,
+dazed and bewildered.
+
+"Where?" she began.  But before she had finished her sentence, her eyes
+closed.
+
+This time, though, it was not unconsciousness, but sleep that she drifted
+off into, and it was not until afternoon that she opened her eyes once
+more.
+
+"Where am I?"  She completed her question this time.  Then, at the sight
+of a nurse in uniform, a look of alarm crept into her eyes.
+
+"Where are you, dear?  Why, here in hospital, being taken care of, and
+your mother is here, too."
+
+"Mother."
+
+"Yes, and we are looking after you so well!  You are both better already."
+
+The cheerful voice and smile, the kindly face, drove all Mona's fears away
+at once, and for ever.  But, as memory returned, other fears took their
+place.
+
+"Is--mother--hurt?"
+
+"Yes--but, oh, not nearly as badly as she might have been.  She will be
+well again soon.  You shall go into the ward with her when you are a
+little better.  You must keep very quiet now, and not talk."
+
+"But--granny--and father?" faltered Mona.  "I _must_ know--I can't rest--
+till--I do."
+
+For a moment the Nurse hesitated.  It was very difficult to know what to
+do for the best.  "She will only fret and worry if I don't tell her,
+and imagine things worse than they are," she thought to herself.
+
+"Your father is home, and safe and well.  You shall see him soon.
+Your poor granny is safe, too, dear, and well.  So well, she will never
+suffer any more."
+
+"They--let her--die----"
+
+"No one let her die, dear.  She had died in her sleep before the fire
+broke out.  She was mercifully spared that--and isn't that something to be
+thankful for, Mona?  There, there, don't cry, dear.  You mustn't cry, or
+you will be ill again, and, for your father's and mother's sake, you must
+try and get well.  Your father wants you home to take care of him until
+your mother can come.  Think of him, dear, and how badly he needs you, and
+try your best to get better.  He is longing to come to see you."
+
+Mercifully for Mona, she was too weak to weep much, or even to think,
+and before very long she had sunk into an exhausted sleep.
+Mercifully, too, perhaps, in the horror of her awakening, that terrible
+night, and the distracting hours that followed, it never entered her head
+that it was she who had brought about the disaster.  It was not till later
+that that dreadful truth came home to her, to be repented of through years
+of bitter regret.
+
+The next day her father came to see her, and a few days after that she was
+carried into the adjoining ward and put into the bed next to her mother.
+
+That was a great step forward.  For the first time a ray of sunshine
+penetrated the heavy cloud of sorrow which had overshadowed them all.
+
+"Keep them both as cheerful as possible," the doctor had said, "and don't
+let them dwell on the tragedy if you can help it."  So every day a visitor
+came to see them--Miss Grace Lester, Mrs. Row, and Patty, Millie Higgins,
+and Philippa--and as they all brought flowers and fruit, the little ward
+became a perfect garden, gay with bright colours and sweet scents.
+
+Miss Grace brought a book for Mona, and a soft, warm shawl for Lucy.
+They were delighted.  "And please, Miss," said Lucy, "may I give you my
+best wishes for your happiness?  We heard you were going to be married
+before so very long."
+
+Grace Lester blushed prettily.  "Yes, but not till next spring," she said.
+"Thank you for your good wishes, Mrs. Carne.  It was very sweet of you to
+remember me through all the troubles you have been through lately.
+I am so glad my new home will be in Seacombe, where I know and love
+everyone.  I should have been very grieved if I had had to leave it.
+Mona, what are you thinking about, to make you look so excited?  You know
+the doctor ordered you to keep calm!  I don't know what he would say if he
+saw you now.  He would blame me for exciting you, and I should never be
+allowed to come again."
+
+"Oh, Miss Grace, I am calm--I really am.  I won't be excited, I won't be
+ill, but, oh, I must tell you--I thought of something as soon as ever I
+heard there was to be a wedding--and oh, I wish you would--I am sure it
+would be lovely.  We want--all your Sunday School girls, I mean, Miss
+Grace--to be allowed to come and strew flowers in your path as you come
+out of church, and we'd all be dressed in white, and--and some would have
+pink, and some blue in their hats, and--Oh, Miss Grace, do please think
+about it and try and say 'Yes!'"
+
+Grace Lester's eyes were misty with happy tears by the time Mona had done.
+"Why, you nice, kind children," she cried, "to have such plans for making
+my wedding day beautiful and happy! I had not thought of anything so
+charming."
+
+For a few moments she sat silent, thinking deeply, and Mona lay back on
+her pillow watching her face.  "Would she consent--Oh, would she?
+It would almost be too lovely, though," she concluded.  "It could not
+really come true."
+
+"Mona," said Miss Grace at last.  "Do you know what I thought you might be
+going to ask?"
+
+Mona shook her head, her eyes were full of questioning.
+
+"I thought, perhaps, you were going to ask if you might come and be my
+little housemaid in my new home!"
+
+"Oh--h--h!"  Mona and her mother both exclaimed aloud and in the same tone
+of delight.  "Oh, Miss Grace!"  Mona sprang up in her bed and clapped her
+hands, bandages and all.  "Oh, Miss Grace! do you really mean it?
+That would be better than anything, because that would be for always.
+Oh, mother," turning to Lucy, her face radiant, "wouldn't that be lovely!"
+
+"Lovely," said Lucy, her eyes full of deep pleasure.  "I wouldn't ask for
+anything better for you, Mona.  I think--I know, it'll be the best that
+can possibly happen."
+
+"How very nice of you, Mrs. Carne."  Grace Lester pressed Lucy's hand.
+"You make me feel--very, very proud--but--well, I will try to do my best
+for her.  Good-bye.  I must not stay any longer now, or Nurse will be
+coming to scold me, but," with a smile, "I must just stay long enough to
+say I engage Mona now to come to me in April.  We will talk about wages
+and uniform, and all those things later on, when you are both stronger,
+and I have had time to think.  Now, good-bye--and Mona, don't keep your
+mother awake, or I shall be in everyone's bad books."
+
+"Oh, I'm as excited as she is, I think," said Lucy, smiling up at Mona's
+future mistress, "and it will be a real pleasure to me to teach her and
+get her as ready as I can--and I can't tell you, Miss, how pleased her
+father'll be that she is going where she will be so happy and well looked
+after."
+
+Grace Lester clasped Lucy's hand again.  "It will be a great pleasure to
+me to have her," she said warmly, "and, trained by you, I know she will be
+a comfort to any mistress."
+
+With this new interest to lift her thoughts from her troubles, Mona
+regained health so rapidly that she was able to leave the hospital sooner
+than anyone had dared to hope.  Poor Lucy, who had to stay there some
+weeks longer, watched her departure with tearful eyes.  "I shall feel
+lonely without you, dear," she said, "but for your own sake, and father's,
+I am glad you are going home.  You will look after him, won't you, and see
+to his comforts--and I'll be back in about three weeks, they say, though
+I'll have to go about on crutches for a bit."
+
+"Oh, yes, I'll look after father.  Don't you worry, mother, I'll see to
+things," Mona reassured her.
+
+"I expect you will find the house in a pretty mess, and the garden too.
+When I ran out that night, I little thought I wouldn't be back for nigh on
+two months.  It's a lesson to one to be always prepared."
+
+"Don't you worry, mother, we'll soon get it all straight again.  I am sure
+your place was tidier than any other in Seacombe would be, left in a hurry
+like that, and in the middle of the night."
+
+"But, Mona, you mustn't do too much."  Lucy's anxieties took a new
+direction.  She knew how Mona could, and would work, when she was in the
+mood to.  "Don't be doing too much and making yourself ill.  That would
+trouble me ever so much more than having the house untidy.  You leave it
+all till I come home.  When I am able to move about again I'll soon get
+things nice."
+
+Mona nodded, with a laugh in her eyes.  "Why, of course, everything will
+be scrubbed inside and out, top and bottom, when you get home to do it,
+mother."  But in her mind she added, "if you can find anything needing
+it."
+
+Then she kissed her 'good-bye,' promising to come again soon.  "And I'll
+take her a few flowers out of her own garden," she thought.  "She will
+love that better than anything.  But I expect the garden has run wild by
+this time."
+
+She did not say as much to her mother, for she had learnt how much such
+thoughts worried her; but she did to her father when he came to fetch her.
+He only smiled though.  "You wait till you see it, my girl," he said
+mysteriously, "then you'll know how things have gone since you have been
+away."
+
+"There!" triumphantly, when they presently drew up at the gate.
+"Do you say now that a poor lone man can't keep his place tidy while his
+women-folk are away!" and Mona stared, wide-eyed with surprise, for,
+instead of bushes all beaten down and tangled, weedy paths, and stripped
+flower beds, as she had pictured, the whole garden seemed full.
+Geraniums, phlox, mignonette, roses, snapdragons, and pansies made the
+beds gay, while at the back of them great bushes of Michaelmas daisies and
+chrysanthemums stood erect, neatly tied up to stakes.
+
+"But how?--who--whenever did you find time, father?"
+
+"I've never put a hand to it."
+
+"Then it must have been the fairies," she laughed.  "Flowers may grow by
+themselves, but paths can't pull up their own weeds--I wish they could--
+nor bushes tie themselves up to stakes."
+
+Her father laughed too.  "Well, never having seen a fairy, I can't
+contradict.  But I'm bound to say that Matthew Luxmore was never my idea
+of one."
+
+"Mr. Luxmore?"
+
+"Yes, he's come two and three times a week, all the time your mother's
+been in hospital, and tended the garden the same as if it had been his
+own.  Don't you call that acting the real Christian?"
+
+"I do.  Oh, father, I wish mother could see it.  Wouldn't it make her
+happy."  Mona was touched almost to tears.  "And doesn't it make you want
+to do something nice for people in return!  But everybody has been so kind
+I don't know where to begin."
+
+"The only way to begin," said Peter Carne, as he led Mona slowly up the
+path, "is to take the first oppertoonity that comes along of doing a
+kindness to one of them, and to keep on taking all the oppertoonities you
+can.  I know that the folks that have been good to us would be cut to the
+heart if we were to talk about returns.  You can't return such things as
+they've done for us.  You can only let them know how grateful you are.
+And if a chance comes of doing anything for them--why, do it.  Now, you
+come along in, my girl, and sit down.  You've done enough for one while.
+You've got to sit there and rest while I make you a cup of tea.
+That's right, the fire's just proper for making a nice bit of toast."
+
+Mona sank down in the arm-chair, and stared about her in speechless
+surprise.  "Why, it's like a palace!  I came home meaning to clean it from
+top to bottom, and there's nothing for me to do.  Has Mr. Luxmore been
+acting the fairy here too, father!"
+
+"No, the fairies in this department were a smaller sort, and more like my
+idea of fairies.  It's Millie Higgins and Patty that have set this all to
+rights for you.  They came and begged of me to let them, till I couldn't
+refuse any longer.  Patty's mother has cooked for me and looked after me
+all the time.  There never was such folk as Seacombe folk I'm certain
+sure.  There, there's a nice bit of toast for you, child, and the kettle
+just going to boil right out over our shining fender.  We'll have a cup of
+tea in a brace of shakes now.  Then you will feel like a new woman."
+
+"I do that already," said Mona.  "I mean," she added softly, "I am going to
+try to be, father."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+More than six months have passed away, and spring has come.
+Lucy Carne, strong and well again, is able to walk without even a trace of
+a limp.  Mona has grown an inch or two, has put up her hair, and
+lengthened her skirts.
+
+"You see I must learn to do it nicely by the time Miss Grace wants me,"
+she explained, when, on Christmas day, she appeared for the first time
+with it coiled about her head.  And, for a few weeks after, knew no peace
+of mind.  "I shall never keep it up," she sighed, "unless I take a hammer
+and nails and fix it to my head that way."
+
+Lucy complained that she spent a fortune in hairpins, and her father said
+he could always trace where Mona had been by the hairpins strewing the
+place.
+
+Lucy and she had been busy since the New Year came in making her uniform,
+blue print frocks, and large white linen aprons for the mornings, and a
+brown cloth dress and muslin aprons for the afternoons.  She was to have
+muslin caps too, and white collars and cuffs.
+
+"I don't think black is really more serviceable than any other colour,"
+Miss Lester had said when she came to talk to Lucy about Mona, "and I
+think I would like to have something new.  So I want my servants to wear
+a pretty warm brown."
+
+Mona was enraptured.  The idea of wearing a uniform was delightful enough,
+but to have one unlike what other servants wore was doubly attractive.
+And when, on top of that, Miss Grace had said she had been thinking a
+great deal about Mona's pretty suggestion for her wedding day, and would
+be very happy indeed if her Bible-class girls would carry it out, Mona
+thought that life was almost too full of happiness.  "I'm afraid I shall
+wake up and find it's all a dream," she said pathetically.  "Mother, I'm
+not dreaming, am I?"
+
+"And I would like to give you all the muslin to make your dresses of,"
+added Miss Grace.
+
+Lucy looked at her gratefully.  "It's too good of you, Miss, and you with
+so much else to think about, and such a lot to get.  I don't know how to
+thank you."
+
+"Then don't try," said Miss Grace.  "I understand.  I shall leave it to
+you," turning smilingly to Mona, "to provide the flowers you are going to
+throw."
+
+"Oh, we are all doing our best to get plenty of those," said Lucy.
+"There's a proper rivalry all through Seacombe, trying which of us can get
+the best.  There won't be any out-door roses, but we've all got bushes in
+our windows."
+
+Seacombe folk that spring tried to outdo each other in their cleaning,
+too.  As soon as the March winds died down, and the days grew light and
+fine such a fury of whitewashing and painting, scrubbing and polishing set
+in, as had never been known in Seacombe before.  By the middle of April
+there was not a whitewashing brush left, nor a yard of net for curtains.
+
+"It dazzles one to walk up the street when the sun shines," Dr. Edwards
+complained.  "What's the meaning of it all.  Is it any special year----"
+
+"It's your year, sir," laughed Lucy.  "That's the meaning of it!  It's all
+for your wedding day.  You see, sir, you have been so good to us all, we
+want to do what we can to show you and Miss Grace what we feel towards you
+both."
+
+Dr. Edwards was touched.  Seacombe folk did not talk much of their
+feelings, and he had never dreamed how much they felt.  "It is very, very
+kind of you all," he said, "and the knowledge will make us more happy than
+all our wedding presents put together."
+
+"And we are all praying, sir, that the day may be as perfect a one as ever
+anybody knew," chimed in Mrs. Row, who was standing close by.
+
+And surely no people ever had their prayers more graciously granted.
+The sun shone in a cloudless sky from morning till night.  A soft little
+breeze from the sea tempered the warmth, and set all the flags and
+streamers waving.  And as the bride walked down the churchyard path on her
+husband's arm, it blew the rose petals over her, pink, and crimson, and
+white.
+
+Mona, her wishes realised, wore a blue sash and forget-me-nots in her hat;
+Millie stood next her with pink roses in hers, and a pink sash.  Patty was
+a blue girl, and Philippa a pink one.  And though the baskets they carried
+held not so very many roses, they were flowing over with other flowers,
+for the girls had walked miles to gather bluebells and primroses, violets
+and delicate anemones, the air smelt sweetly of spring, and the joy of
+spring was in their faces, and in their hearts as well.
+
+And as the bride walked away down the path, Mona looked after her with
+tender, wistful eyes, and an unspoken prayer in her heart, that she might
+be given the grace, and the power to serve her new mistress well and
+loyally, and to do her share towards making her new life in her new home
+as happy as life could be.
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Making of Mona, by Mabel Quiller-Couch
+
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