saw it quite as
I did, and was most reasonable. So I thought I would feel my way to
developing an idea we had been broaching, Julius and I, just that very
time by the obelisk. I asked papa flatly what he would do if I married
Julius straight off. 'I believe, my dear,' said he, 'that I should
be bound to disapprove most highly of your conduct and his.' 'But
_should_ you, papa?' I said. 'I should be _bound_ to, my dear,'
said he. 'But should you turn us out of the house?' I asked. 'Most
certainly _not_,' said he emphatically. 'But I should disapprove.'
I said I should be awfully sorry for that. 'Of course you would,' said
he. 'Any dutiful daughter would. But I don't exactly see what harm it
would do _you_.' And you see how his letter begins--that he is bound,
as a parent, to feel the strongest disapprobation, and so on. No,
I don't think we need be frightened of papa. As for mamma, of course
it wouldn't be reasonable to expect her to...."

"To expect her to what?"

"Well, I was going to say keep her hair on. The expression is
Egerton's, and I'm sorry to say his expressions are not always
ladylike, however telling they are! So I hesitated. Now what _is_
that baby talking about down there?"

For through the whole of Tishy's interesting tale that baby had been
dwelling on the shocking occurrence of her sister's doll as before
recorded. Her powers of narrative--giving a dramatic form to all
things, and stimulated by Sally's statements of what the beach said
to the sea, and the sea said back--had, it seemed, attracted shoals
of fish from the ocean depths to hear her recital of the tragedy.

"Suppose, now, you come and tell it us up here, Gwenny," says the
bride to the bridesmaid. And Sally adds: "Yes, delicious little
Miss Arkwright, come and tell us all about it too." Whereupon Miss
Arkwright's musical tones are suddenly silent, and her eyes, that are
so nearly the colour of the sea behind her, remain fixed on her two
petitioners, their owner not seeming quite sure whether she shall
acquiesce, or coquette, or possibly even burst into tears. She
decides, however, on compliance, coming suddenly up the beach on all
fours, and exclaiming, "Tate me!" flings herself bodily on Sally,
who welcomes her with, "You sweet little darling!" while Mrs. Julius
Bradshaw, anticipating requisition, looks in her bag for another
chocolate. They will spoil that child between them.

"Now tell us about the fisses and dolly," says Sally. But th