On her way back to the house Bridget met Rosalys.

‘Well,’ said Alie, ’and how did you get on, Biddy?  How do you like your new governess?’

‘Ever so much better than Miss Millet,’ Biddy replied.  Her superhuman exertions had somewhat tired her; she felt rather cross now, and half inclined to quarrel.  She knew that Alie was particularly fond of Miss Millet, and she glanced at her curiously as she made her speech.  But Alie was a wise little woman.

‘I’m so glad,’ she said.  ’So glad you like Miss Neale, I mean.  Of course I knew you’d like Celestina.’

‘I don’t like her so very much as all that,’ said Biddy contradictorily.  ’I like her well enough to do lessons with, but she’s not very nice about my going there to tea.’

‘Going there to tea,’ Alie repeated.  ‘What do you mean, Biddy?’

’Mean what I say.  She’s coming here to tea two times every week if it’s fine, so I think they might ’avite me sometimes, and when I said to her just now I’d like to come, she looked quite funny and only said she’d ask her mother.  Not a bit as if she’d like it.’

Rosalys felt very vexed.

‘Really, Biddy, you might know how to behave,’ she said.  ’People don’t offer themselves to other people like that.’

‘They do,’ Bride retorted.  ’I’ve heard papa say he was going to “offer himself to luncheon” to Aunt Mary’s, and——­’

‘She’s a relation,’ Alie interrupted.

’Well, and once mamma offered herself to tea to old Lady Butler—­I know she did—­just before we went away at Christmas.’

’That’s quite different; she knows old Lady Butler so well—­and—­and—­mamma’s grown up and knows what’s right, and you’re a little girl, and you shouldn’t do things like that without asking leave,’ said Rosalys decidedly.

‘You’re a cross unkind thing,’ said Biddy; ’and if you speak like that I’ll not go on being good any more.’

Then she turned away from her sister and ran down a side-path of the garden, leaving Rosalys looking after her in distress, and half inclined to blame herself for having spoken sharply to Biddy.  ’It will vex mamma so if this new plan doesn’t do,’ she thought regretfully.  ’But perhaps Biddy will be good again when she comes in.’

The path down which the little girl had run led to a low wall from which you overlooked the sea.  The tide was in, and though at some little distance from the Rectory, Biddy could clearly see the water shining in the morning sunshine, which was yellower and richer in colour now, for the season was getting on; the cold thin wintry look was giving place in this sheltered spot to the warmer feeling of spring.  The little waves came lapping in softly; by listening intently and fancying a little, Biddy could almost hear the delicate sound they made as they kissed the shore.