h and kin that
is left to him, to be within a few miles and not wish at least to see
her? Does he still think me the scheming adventuress that he called me
in the first heat of his anger, and imagine I am plotting to get hold of
his money? I would not touch one penny of it for myself, but I think it
is only right and fair that Isobel should be sent to a really good
school. It would be such a small expense to him out of his large
income, and it is simply impossible for me to manage it. I have done my
best for her so far, but she is so quick and bright that she will very
soon be growing beyond my teaching. He will surely realize that for the
credit of his own name something ought to be done. Perhaps he may be ill
or away, and has not been able to attend to my letter. I must have
patience for a little longer, and wait and see whether he will not send
me an answer."

The waiting seemed very long and tedious to poor Mrs. Stewart as she lay
through those hot summer days on the hard horsehair sofa of the small
back sitting-room at No. 4 Marine Terrace. As the lonely hours passed
away, the lines of trouble deepened in her forehead, and she stitched so
many cares into the winter night-dresses she was beguiling the time by
making that every gusset and hem seemed a reminder of some anxious
thought for the future.

In the meantime Isobel remained sublimely unconscious of her mother's
hopes and fears. To her the visit to Silversands was nothing but the
most glorious holiday she had spent in her life, and her jolly times
with the Sea Urchins, and especially the delight of her friendship with
Belle, made the days fly only too fast. The latter was still as clinging
and affectionate as ever, and would scarcely allow Isobel out of her
sight.

"I'd rather be with you, darling, than with any one else," she declared
enthusiastically. "I used to think I liked Winnie Rokeby, but she was
very unkind once or twice, and told such nasty tales about me, actually
trying to make out I was selfish, just because I wanted her to do one or
two little things for me that _you_ don't mind doing in the least. She
splashed sea-water all over my best white silk dress too, and I'm sure
it was on purpose, and she said my hair looked exactly like sticks of
barley-sugar." And Belle tossed back her curls as if indignant yet at
the remembrance.

"She really _is_ fond of me," said Isobel to her mother. "And it's so
nice of her, because, you see, although she do