Now, Mr. Bradshaw knew that the house and grounds of Eagle’s Crag wore exorbitantly dear, and yet he really thought of purchasing them.  And as one means of exhibiting his wealth, and so raising himself up to the level of Mr. Donne, he thought that if he could take the latter down to Abermouth, and show him the place for which, “because his little girls had taken a fancy to it,” he was willing to give the fancy price of fourteen thousand pounds, he should at last make those half-shut dreamy eyes open wide, and their owner confess that, in wealth at least, the Eccleston manufacturer stood on a par with him.  All these mingled motives caused the determination which made Ruth sit in the little inn parlour of Abermouth during the wild storm’s passage.

She wondered if she had fulfilled all Mr. Bradshaw’s directions.  She looked at the letter.  Yes! everything was done.  And now home with her news, through the wet lane, where the little pools by the roadside reflected the deep blue sky and the round white clouds with even deeper blue and clearer white; and the rain-drops hung so thick on the trees, that even a little bird’s flight was enough to shake them down in a bright shower as of rain.  When she told the news, Mary exclaimed—­

“Oh, how charming!  Then we shall see this new member after all!” while Elizabeth added—­

“Yes!  I shall like to do that.  But where must we be?  Papa will want the dining-room and this room, and where must we sit?”

“Oh!” said Ruth, “in the dressing-room next to my room.  All that your papa wants always, is that you are quiet and out of the way.”

CHAPTER XXIII

RECOGNITION

Saturday came.  Torn, ragged clouds were driven across the sky.  It was not a becoming day for the scenery, and the little girls regretted it much.  First they hoped for a change at twelve o’clock, and then at the afternoon tide-turning.  But at neither time did the sun show his face.

“Papa will never buy this dear place,” said Elizabeth sadly, as she watched the weather.  “The sun is everything to it.  The sea looks quite leaden to-day, and there is no sparkle on it.  And the sands, that were so yellow and sun-speckled on Thursday, are all one dull brown now.”

“Never mind! to-morrow may be better,” said Ruth cheerily.

“I wonder what time they will come at?” inquired Mary.

“Your papa said they would be at the station at five, o’clock.  And the landlady at the ‘Swan’ said it would take them half-an-hour to get here.”

“And they are to dine at six?” asked Elizabeth.

“Yes,” answered Ruth.  “And I think, if we had our tea half-an-hour earlier, at half-past four, and then went out for a walk, we should be nicely out of the way just during the bustle of the arrival and dinner; and we could be in the drawing-room ready against your papa came in after dinner.”