ell, so, children, let us go downstairs now to the parlour; perhaps by
the time we have finished breakfast it will have cleared up and be quite
fine."

These cheery words, combined possibly with a savoury odour of frizzled
bacon and hot coffee that came up appetisingly from below, had the
effect, for a while at least, of banishing Bob and Nellie's gloom, and
without further ado they accompanied their aunt to the breakfast-room
downstairs.

Here, stretched on the hearthrug before the grate, in which a bright
cosy little fire was blazing and looking uncommonly cheery, although it
was now summer, lay Rover.

Without rising, he lazily greeted them by flopping his heavy tail,
albeit he lifted his nose in the air and sniffed, as if in anticipation
of sharing the coming meal with the welcome guests who so opportunely
appeared.

"Well, I declare!" cried Mrs Gilmour, "I hope you make yourself at
home, sir?"

Rover only flopped his tail the more furiously at this, his appealing
brown eyes saying, as plainly as dog could speak, that he was hungry,
and that if she meant to be kind he would prefer actions to words.

After breakfast, as the rain still continued, Bob got grumpy again and
Nellie mopey from not being able to go out on the beach as both longed
to do.

In this emergency, their aunt suggested that the unhappy children should
occupy themselves in sorting and arranging in an old album, which she
gave them, some of the best bits of seaweed they had collected the
previous afternoon, the good lady advising them first to soak the
specimens in a bowl of fresh-water, so as to get rid of the salt and
sand and other impurities, besides enabling the specimens to be laid
flatter in the book for subsequent pressing.

By this means, the time passed so pleasantly that Master Bob and Miss
Nell were much surprised when Mrs Gilmour, who had meanwhile been
busying herself about household matters, came to tell them, anon, that
they must clear their things off the parlour-table on account of Sarah
wanting to lay luncheon.

"Why, auntie," cried Bob, looking up from the basin in which he was busy
washing the last lot of seaweed, "we've hardly begun yet!"

"You've been a long time beginning then, sir," replied Mrs Gilmour.
"Do you know that it is past one o'clock; so that you've been more than
three hours at your task? See, too, my dears, the rain has cleared off,
and it looks as if it were going to be fine for a bit."

"How nice,