doesn't it?" she said to Carmel, as they sat in the lounge, waiting for
Major and Mrs. Rogers to come down stairs. "By the by, are your cousins
here? I looked in the visitors' book and couldn't find their names. What
has happened to them?"

"A letter from Dulcie was waiting for me," explained Carmel. "They
couldn't get rooms here. They were writing to the 'Eagle's Nest Hotel,'
and hoped to get taken in there. I don't know whether they've arrived or
not. Dulcie didn't say exactly which day they were starting. It's just
like Dulcie! She generally misses out the most important point!"

"Well, I suppose they'll look you up when they do arrive," said Sheila
carelessly. "Anyway, I bless them for giving us some sort of an anchor
down here. I feel I'm going to enjoy myself. I asked the manageress, and
she says there's to be a dance to-night after dinner."

Carmel, sitting on a cane chair in the palm lounge next morning, agreed
with Sheila that Hill Crest Hotel was a remarkably comfortable and
luxurious place. A fountain was splashing near her, foreign birds sang
and twittered in the aviary, and large pots of geraniums made bright
patches of color under the green of the palms. Pleasant though it was,
however, it lacked the charm of the open air, and, throwing down the
magazine she was reading, Carmel strolled through the hall and the glass
veranda on to the terrace outside. The hotel certainly had a most
beautiful situation. As its name implied, it stood on the crest of a
hill, surrounded by woods and grounds that stretched to the beach. A
little noisy Devonshire river raced past it through the glen, and behind
it lay the heathery waste of a great moorland. Below lay the gleaming
waters of the bay, with small boats bobbing about, and a distant view of
the crags and headlands of a rugged coast line. The terrace was planted
with a border of trailing pink ivy-leaved geraniums, and the bank that
sloped below was a superb mass of hydrangeas in full bloom, their
delicate shades of blue and pink looking like the hues of dawn in a
clear sky.

Carmel established herself on a seat to enjoy the prospect, and picking
up a gray Persian cat which was also sunning itself on the terrace,
fondled the pretty creature in her arms. She was seeing England to the
best advantage, for nowhere could there have been a lovelier scene than
the one which lay before her delighted eyes. Tivermouth had a reputation
as a beauty spot, and owing to its long