rieks and faintings and fuss, but calm
sense and energetic skill. Dear child, what can I give or do to show my
gratitude?' said Mrs Jo enthusiastically.

'Make Tom clear out and leave her in peace,' suggested Ted, almost
himself again, though a pensive haze still partially obscured his native
gaiety.

'Yes, do! he frets her like a mosquito. She forbade him to come out here
while she stayed, and packed him off with Demi. I like old Tom, but he
is a regular noodle about Nan,' added Rob, as he went away to help his
father with the accumulated letters.

'I'll do it!' said Mrs Jo decidedly. 'That girl's career shall not be
hampered by a foolish boy's fancy. In a moment of weariness she may give
in, and then it's all over. Wiser women have done so and regretted it
all their lives. Nan shall earn her place first, and prove that she can
fill it; then she may marry if she likes, and can find a man worthy of
her.'

But Mrs Jo's help was not needed; for love and gratitude can work
miracles, and when youth, beauty, accident, and photography are added,
success is sure; as was proved in the case of the unsuspecting but too
susceptible Thomas.

Chapter 8. JOSIE PLAYS MERMAID

While the young Bhaers were having serious experiences at home, Josie
was enjoying herself immensely at Rocky Nook; for the Laurences knew how
to make summer idleness both charming and wholesome. Bess was very fond
of her little cousin; Mrs Amy felt that whether her niece was an actress
or not she must be a gentlewoman, and gave her the social training
which marks the well-bred woman everywhere; while Uncle Laurie was never
happier than when rowing, riding, playing, or lounging with two gay
girls beside him. Josie bloomed like a wild flower in this free life,
Bess grew rosy, brisk, and merry, and both were great favourites with
the neighbours, whose villas were by the shore or perched on the cliffs
along the pretty bay.

One crumpled rose-leaf disturbed Josie's peace, one baffled wish filled
her with a longing which became a mania, and kept her as restless and
watchful as a detective with a case to 'work up'. Miss Cameron, the
great actress, had hired one of the villas and retired thither to rest
and 'create' a new part for next season. She saw no one but a friend
or two, had a private beach, and was invisible except during her daily
drive, or when the opera-glasses of curious gazers were fixed on a
blue figure disporting itself in the sea. The Laure