hat she hoped was rather a
chilling manner, "and I must go and speak to them."

And to show her displeasure, she marched off without deigning even to
say good-bye. Colonel Stewart sat watching her as she walked away, with
a somewhat peculiar expression on his face.

"Worse than I could ever have imagined!" he groaned. "Vain, shallow, and
empty-headed, caring for nothing but pleasure and showing herself off in
public places decked out like a ballet dancer! She's pretty enough in a
superficial kind of way--the sort of beauty you get in a doll, with
neither mind nor soul behind it. _She_ worthy of the name, indeed! Oh,
my poor boy! Is this the child on whom you had set such high hopes? And
is this little French fashion-plate really and truly the last of the
Stewarts?"

CHAPTER IX.

SILVERSANDS TOWER.

"Say, what deeds of ancient valour
Do thy ruined walls recall?"

Four o'clock on the next afternoon found Belle tapping at the door of
the little back sitting-room in No. 4 with a very important face.

"Why, what's the matter?" she exclaimed, as she entered in response to
Mrs. Stewart's "Come in," for Isobel was sitting in the big armchair
propped up with cushions, looking as limp as a rag and as white as a
small ghost.

"It's only one of her bad headaches," replied Mrs. Stewart; "I think it
must be the heat. She ought not to have played cricket this morning in
the blazing sun.--No, Isobel, you mustn't try to get up. Belle may sit
here and talk to you for a few minutes, but I'm afraid I can't ask her
to stay long."

"I'm _so_ sorry!" said Belle, sitting down on the arm of the big chair
and squeezing her friend's hand. "I've brought an invitation. It's
mother's birthday on Saturday, and she's going to give a picnic at
Silversands Tower, and ask all the Sea Urchins. Won't it be splendid
fun? You simply _must_ be better by then. It will be quite a large
party: Mr. Chester and a good many other grown-up people are
coming.--Mother wonders if your foot will be well enough, Mrs. Stewart?
She would be so pleased to see you, if you don't mind so many children."

"Thank you, dear; but I can scarcely manage to hobble on to the beach at
present," replied Mrs. Stewart, "so I fear it is out of the question for
me, much as I should have enjoyed it. Isobel, of course, will be only
too delighted to accept. I believe the very thought of it is chasing
away her headache."

"We're to drive there on two coaches," sa