‘I’d like to see a shipwreck—­I mean,’ as she caught sight of a shocked expression on her sister’s face—­’I mean of course one that nobody would be drowned in.’

’But how could any one be sure of that?  You should be more careful what you say, Bride; you are so heedless.’

Bridget’s face puckered up.  It was rather given to puckering up, funny little face that it was.  She was eight years old, short and rather stout, with thick, dark hair and a freckled complexion.  Her nose turned up and her mouth was not small.  But she was not ugly; she had merry gray eyes and very white teeth.  Somehow, thorough little English girl though she was, she reminded one of the small Savoyard boys one sees with a box of marmots slung in front of them, or a barrel organ and a monkey.

‘I didn’t mean to say anything naughty, Alie,’ she began, in a plaintive tone.  ‘I’m always——­’

‘Oh, come now, Biddy, stop that, do,’ said her brother; ’don’t spoil the first morning by going off into a howl for nothing.  No one supposes you wanted to drown a lot of people for the sake of watching a shipwreck, only, as Alie says, you should be more careful.  Strangers might think you a very queer little girl if they heard you say such a thing.’

Bridget still looked melancholy, but she did not venture to complain any more.  She was a good deal in awe of Rough, who was twelve and a big boy for his age.  He had been at school for two years, and now he was going as a day-scholar to a large and very excellent public school, which was only about two miles from Seacove, quite in the country.  Mr. Vane had bought a pony for him to ride backwards and forwards, so Randolph was in capital spirits.  But he was not an unkind or selfish boy, and though his pet name ‘Rough’ suited him sometimes as regarded his manners, his heart was gentle.  And indeed the name had been given to him at first on account of his thick shaggy hair, as a very little boy.

‘It’s rather cold standing about,’ said Rosalys.  ’Don’t you think we’d better walk on or take a run?’

‘Let’s have a race,’ said Rough.  ’The sand’s nice and firm about here.  I’ll give you a good start, Alie, and Biddy can run on in front and wait till we call to her that we’re off.’

Bridget trotted off as she was told, obediently.  She did not care much for running.  Her legs were short and she was rather fat, but she did not like to complain.  She ran on, though slowly, till at last Randolph shouted to her to stop.  Then she stood still waiting till he called to her again, for he and Rosalys took some time to settle how much of a start Alie was to have—­from where she stood, Biddy heard them talking and measuring.

‘I wish they wouldn’t run races,’ thought the little girl.  ’They’re so big compared with me—­they’ve such much longer legs.  I shan’t like Seacove if they’re going always to run races.  In London they couldn’t in the streets; it was only when we went in the gardens, and that wasn’t every day, it was too far to go.  I wish I had a brother or a sister littler than me; it’s too much difference between Alie and me, thirteen and eight.  I wish——­’