ut of her earthly home.

'I don't think I could tell you stories to-day, dear.' Theo rose
slowly from the grass, and looked down upon the fair little face under
its straw hat. 'I am too troubled.'

'Is it the horrid figures, Theo?' Queenie asked, half-sympathetically,
half-absently, her attention being attracted by a bold thrush hopping
across the graves.

'No, it's worse than figures; it's the boys,' mournfully rejoined Theo.

'The boys are going shrimping this evening, with Ned,' said Queenie
importantly. 'I wish you and I was boys, Theo!' the little one
plaintively added. Queenie was beginning to discover the fact that
dolls were not, perhaps, the highest joys of life.

Going out shrimping with Ned! Theo started. Then things were hopeless
indeed. There would be no evening preparation. Perhaps even Geoff had
changed his mind, and would refuse to say he was sorry.

'I must take you home now, at once, deary. Come! I have to go and see
old Goody Dempster before tea. Say good-bye, and come.'

Queenie's fresh little mouth was pressed against the grey headstone,
and she softly whispered, 'Good-bye, mother darlin'!'

Theo stooped and did the same. The touching little ceremony was never
omitted by either. Then hand in hand they soberly left the quiet
resting-place, the missel-thrush peering out of its bold eye at their
retreating figures.

CHAPTER IX

COMING EVENTS

'May I come in, Goody?'

A sweet voice penetrated the dim recesses of the little thatched
cottage which, with its weather-stained front, was the centre one of
the half-circle of homely dwelling-places that huddled together looking
out on the world of waters. Sitting by the smoky fire, watching, as
she knitted busily, the iron pot of potatoes boiling for her supper and
that of her grandson Ned, was Goody Dempster. Her face, as she lifted
it, was brown and wrinkled--indeed, it was not unlike in hue the
kippered herrings hanging on a stick outside. But a pleased surprise
sprang into her eyes as she recognised her visitor's voice.

'Is that yourself, Miss Theedory? Come along in, deary! You're always
a sight for sore eyes, as ye know well. Sit ye down on the little
stool as ye've set on sin' ye were a tiny toddler. It's kep' dusted
careful, case you should drop in; and nobody, not even Ned, sits on
Miss Theedory's stool.'

'I know that, Goody dear. I shouldn't mind if they did; but you mean
it for kindness to keep a stool s