not fair! We were to go in ages, and I'm six months older than he
is."

"You can have your turn after Joyce."

"Joyce! She's only nine, and I'm eleven."

"Then miss it altogether, and don't make yourself a nuisance!--Now then,
Bertie, look out for a screw."

"It's a shame! I always seem to get left out of things!" grumbled the
little girl, with a very aggrieved countenance, sitting down upon a
rusty anchor, and nursing her nettled hand tenderly.

"It's your own fault this time, at any rate," said a companion, with
scant sympathy. "There are plenty of dock leaves growing under the cliff
if you want them."

"Bravo, Bertie! Well hit!"

"Quick with that ball, Arthur!"

"Play up, Bertie!"

"Well run! Well run!"

"Oh, he's out! Hard luck!"

"Whose turn is it now?"

"Belle's."

"Where is she?"

"Here I am, ready and waiting. Now give me a good ball. It's Hugh's turn
to bowl, and if he sends me one of his nasty screws or sneaks I shan't
be friends with him any more."

Isobel gazed at the last speaker, entranced. There was no mistaking the
apple-blossom cheeks and the silky flaxen curls of her fellow-traveller
in the crowded carriage, though to-day the white silk dress and the blue
hat were replaced by a delicate pale pink muslin and a broad-brimmed
straw trimmed with a gauze scarf. She looked even more charming than
ever, like some fairy in a story-book or one of the very prettiest
pictures you get upon chocolate boxes; she seemed to put all other
children round her in the shade, and as she stood there, a graceful
little figure at the wicket, Isobel's eyes followed her every movement
with an absolute fascination.

The first ball was a slow one, and she hit it fairly well, but did not
make a run; the next she merely slogged; the third was high, and as she
wisely let it alone, it cleared the wicket; the fourth was a full pitch:
she tried to play it down, but unfortunately it hit the top of her bat,
and went right into the long-stop's hands.

"Caught!"

"She's out!"

"What an easy catch!"

"Come along, Aggie, your innings."

The vanquished player put down her bat somewhat reluctantly, and walked
slowly away in the direction of the old boat. She sat down on the sand
close by Isobel, and taking off her hat, began to fan her hot face with
it After stealing several glances at her companion, she at length
volunteered a remark.

"It was too bad, wasn't it," she said, "to be caught out first thing
like th