Rupert was a merry little schoolboy of seven, bright-eyed and
curly-haired, a mischievous little sprite, no doubt, but a very
affectionate lovable little fellow. He chattered continually during the
meal, and did a great deal to take off the sense of shyness that Ruth
felt in the company of Julia and Ernest, and her aunt asked questions
about the farm-life at Cressleigh, and talked of their plans for the
next few weeks.

"Oh! you will have a great deal to see," said Julia, "as this is your
first visit to the sea-side. I think we had better put on our hats and
go for a long walk at once, it is a shame to be indoors this lovely
evening."

"That will hardly do for your cousin, dear; she looks rather tired, and
we must remember that she has had a long journey to-day."

Ruth was very tired, and, much as she longed to go for a walk along the
shore, she felt that that pleasure must be deferred until the next
morning. But she was rather dismayed by Julia's saying, "Well, I don't
see any reason for our remaining indoors. Of course Ernest won't come,
he is too much taken up with that book about--shellology. So he can stay
with Ruth while you come out with us."

"Why can't you call things by their right names, and say 'conchology'?"
asked Ernest quietly.

"Really, Julia, I don't think we must leave your cousin this evening,"
said Mrs. Woburn, doubtfully.

"Don't stay at home on my account, auntie," replied Ruth, putting aside
her own feelings, though she did not much like the idea of spending the
evening with Ernest, such a grave, quiet boy, so very different from her
brothers.

Julia carried her point, and started in a few minutes for a walk with
her mother and Rupert, leaving the cousins to their own resources. Ruth
took a seat near the window, and watched the waves breaking gently upon
the beach, while the boy appeared to be entirely occupied with his book.
It was rather dull, this first evening away from home; it seemed
scarcely possible that she had really only left Cressleigh that morning,
and she began to wonder if they had missed her very much, and what they
were doing now, and when she should see them all again, and as she
thought of the months that must elapse first she heaved a weary sigh.

The sigh roused Ernest, who had quite forgotten his companion in the
charms of his book, and he at once endeavoured to make amends for his
neglect in his kind but awkward way.

"Oh! I beg your pardon," he began, "I almos