This time she was so far obedient that she went nowhere except to the beach, but while wandering about there she was nursing unkind and rebellious thoughts and feelings; trying hard to convince herself that her father loved her less than he did his other children, and was more inclined to be severe with her than with them.  In her heart of hearts she believed no such thing, but pretending to herself that she did, she continued her unlovely behavior all that day and the next, sulking alone most of the time; doing whatever she was bidden, but with a sullen air, seldom speaking unless she was spoken to, never hanging lovingly about her father, as had been her wont, but rather seeming to avoid being near him whenever she could.

It pained him deeply to see her indulging so evil a temper, but he thought best to appear not to notice it.  He did not offer her the caresses she evidently tried to avoid, and seldom addressed her; but when he did speak to her it was in his accustomed kind, fatherly tones, and it was her own fault if she did not share in every pleasure provided for the others.

In the afternoon of the second day they were all gathered upon the beach as usual, when a young girl, who seemed to be a new-comer in ’Sconset, drew near and accosted Betty as an old acquaintance.

“Why, Anna Eastman, who would have expected to see you here?” cried Betty, in accents of pleased surprise, springing up to embrace the stranger.

Then she introduced her to Elsie, Violet, and Captain Raymond, who happened to be sitting near, as an old school friend.

“And you didn’t know I was on the island?” remarked Miss Eastman laughingly to Betty, when the introductions were over.

“I hadn’t the least idea of it.  When did you arrive?”

“Several days since—­last Monday; and this is Friday.  By the way, I saw you on Tuesday, though you did not see me.”

“How and where?” asked Betty in surprise, not remembering at the moment how she had spent that day.

“At Sankaty Lighthouse; I was in a carriage out on the green in front of the lighthouse, and saw you and that little girl yonder (nodding in Lulu’s direction) come out on the top of the tower; then a puff of wind took the child’s skirts, and I fairly screamed with fright, expecting to see her fall and be crushed to death; but somebody jerked her back within the window just in time to save her.  Weren’t you terribly frightened, dear?” she asked, addressing Lulu.

“Of course I was,” Lulu answered in an ungracious tone; then rose and sauntered away along the beach.  “What did she tell it for, hateful thing!” she muttered to herself; “now papa knows it, and what will he say and do to me?”

She had not ventured to look at him; if she had she would have seen his face grow suddenly pale, then assume an expression of mingled sternness and pain.

He presently rose and followed her, though she did not know it till he had reached her side and she felt him take her hand in his.  He sat down, making her sit by his side.