e waving their long tentacula in the salt water.

"Oh my; very pretty indeed. But I must be off to cricket."

Vernon looked up at his brother sadly.

"You aren't so kind to me, Eric, as you used to be."

"What nonsense! and all because I don't admire those nasty red-jelly
things, which one may see on the shore by thousands any day. What a
little goose you are, Vernon."

Vernon made no reply, but was putting away his sea-anemones with a sigh,
when in came Russell to fetch Eric to the cricket.

"Well, Verny," he said, "have you been getting those pretty
sea-anemones? come here and show me them. Ah, I declare you've got one
of those famous white plumosa fellows among them. What a lucky little
chap you are!"

Vernon was delighted.

"Mind you take care of them," said Russell. "Where did you find them?"

"I have been down the shore getting them."

"And have you had a pleasant morning?"

"Yes, Russell, thank you. Only it is rather dull being always by
myself, and Eric never comes with me now."

"Hang Eric," said Russell playfully. "Never mind, Verny; you and I will
cut him, and go by ourselves."

Eric had stood by during the conversation, and the contrast of Russell's
unselfish kindness with his own harsh want of sympathy struck him. He
threw his arms round his brother's neck, and said, "We will both go with
you, Verny, next half-holiday."

"Oh, thank you, Eric," said his brother; and the two schoolboys ran out.
But when the next half-holiday came, warm and bright, with the promise
of a good match that afternoon, Eric repented his promise, and left
Russell to amuse his little brother, while he went off, as usual, to the
playground.

There was one silent witness of scenes like these, who laid them up
deeply in her heart. Mrs Williams was not unobservant of the gradual
but steady falling off in Eric's character, and the first thing she
noticed was the blunting of his home affections. When they first came
to Roslyn, the boy used constantly to join his father and mother in
their walks; but now he went seldom or never; and even if he did go, he
seemed ashamed, while with them, to meet any of his school-fellows. The
spirit of false independence was awake and, growing in her darling son.
The bright afternoons they had spent together on the sunny shore, or
seeking for sea-flowers among the lonely rocks of the neighbouring
headlands--the walks at evening and sunset among the hills, and the
sweet counsel th