’You think it would be better?—­thank you, dear, for saying so.  You are so nice, Smut, for always understanding.  Well, I will then, and I’ll begin by telling mamma I’m dreadfully sorry about my frock.  Good-night, sun—­I wish I lived out in the lighthouse—­one could see the sun right down in the sea out there, I should think.  I wonder if he stays in the sea all night till he comes up at the other side in the morning?  No—­I don’t think he can though, for it says in my jography that it’s sunshine at the other side of the world when it’s night here, so he can’t stay in the sea.  I must ask Alie—­p’raps it’s not the same sun as in London.’

She turned, followed by Smut, who, failing to persuade her to another scamper, consoled himself by poking his nose into the sand in search of unknown dainties which I fear were not to be found.  The pair came up to Mrs. Vane and Rosalys, who seemed to be waiting for them.

‘Mamma,’ Biddy began, in a very contrite tone, ’I’ve been thinking and I want to tell you I am truly and really very, very sorry about my frock.  I didn’t mean not to seem sorry.  I can’t think how it got torn, for Alie didn’t tear hers, and she was playing about just the same.’

‘I don’t know either, Biddy,’ said her mother.  ’It is just the old story, you must be more careful.  Perhaps, to go back to the beginning, it would have been better to change to an old frock if you meant to romp about; or, it would have been better still perhaps, not to romp when you knew you had a good frock on.’

‘That was my fault, mamma,’ Alie put in.

’Well, we must try and get the mischief repaired, and let us hope it will be a reminder to you, Biddy, every time you wear this frock.’

Bridget murmured something; she meant to be very good.  But when she got a little behind her mother and Alie again she gave herself a shake.

‘I shouldn’t like that at all,’ she thought.  ’I should hate this frock if it was always to remind me.  I think mamma is rather like the mamma in Rosamund when she speaks that way, and I’m like Rosamund on her day of misfortunes, only all my days are days of misfortunes.  But I do think I’m nicer than she was.’

As they reached the edge of the shore, where a gate opened into a pathway through a field to the Rectory itself, Mrs. Vane stopped to look across once more at the sunset.

‘Yes, he is just going—­just.  Look, children.’

Alie turned too, but Biddy walked on.

‘I don’t want to look again,’ she said.  ’I’ve said good-night to him once.’

Mrs. Vane glanced at Rosalys.

‘What’s the matter now?’ her glance seemed to say.

Rosalys smiled back.

‘It isn’t naughtiness,’ she whispered.  ‘It’s only some fancy.’

And so it was.

‘I said good-night to him when I’d fixed to try to be good,’ Bride was saying to herself, ’and if I look at him again now it’ll undo the fixing.  Besides, I’ve begun to feel a little naughty again already—­I don’t like Rosamund’s mamma.’