nk a mother perhaps has a greater belief in
the goodness of men; a woman, a happy woman certainly, has so little
knowledge of men, other than her own."

"Yes," said Diana, "a good father and a good husband give one a very
deep rooted faith and belief in the goodness of mankind generally. How
we are prosing, Betty!"

Zerlina meanwhile sat on a rock, of the hardness of which she
complained. She found fault with our cove, the sun was too hot and the
wind was too strong. But then she had driven ten miles in a wagonette
under Teddy and the twins, so it was no wonder she grumbled a little.

"I can't think," she said plaintively, "why my hair doesn't look nice
when it blows about in the wind, and I hate myself sun burnt. I can't
bear seeing my nose wherever I look. You and Betty are the stuff martyrs
are made of. It would be comparatively easy to walk to the stake if you
had the right amount of hair hanging down behind; without it, no amount
of religious conviction would avail. Oh dear, I used to have such lots,
before I had measles! I hardly knew what to do with it!"

"That's rather what we find with Betty's," said Diana; "we plait it up
as tight as we can, don't we, darling?" she said, re-tying the ribbon
which secured Betty's very thick pigtail.

"I had twice as much as Betty, at her age, I'm sure," said Zerlina,
forgetting a photograph which stands on Jim's dressing-table, of a small
fat girl with very little hair and that rather scraggy. But what does it
matter? These are the sort of traditions women cling to.

Someone suggested building a steamship in the sand, grown-ups, children,
and all, and Hugh was told to go and make a second-class berth. He
retired to a short distance, and no sound coming from his direction, we
looked round and saw him in ecstatic raptures, rocking himself backward
and forward.

"What are you doing, Hugh?" we said.

"Well," said Hugh, "I was told to make a second-class berth. I suppose
that means twins, and I 'm nursing them."

Zerlina took it quite well, and was easily persuaded that there was no
insult intended to her twins in particular.

A few minutes later Sara appeared, triumphant, having apparently found a
small child to play with.

"Who is your little friend, Sara?" I asked.

She shook her head. She didn't know, but he was delicious to play with
for all that, and she bore him off in triumph.

He was not long unsought, for a young girl came anxiously towards us and
said, "Ha