early the whole time with that
mademoiselle they've brought with them. They're so proud of her, they do
nothing but let off French remarks just to try to impress us. She's only
a holiday governess too--they don't have her when they're at home--so
there's no need for them to give themselves such airs about it. I
believe their French isn't anything much either, they put in so many
English words."

"Arthur Wright actually brings his books down on to the shore," said
Letty, "and does Greek and Euclid half the morning. He says he's working
for a scholarship. You wouldn't catch Hugh or Cecil at that."

"I'm afraid I shouldn't," sighed Mrs. Rokeby. "To judge from their bad
reports at school, it seems difficult enough to get them to learn
anything in term time. As for mademoiselle, you might take the
opportunity to talk to her a little, and improve your own French."

"No, thank you!" said Winnie, pulling a wry face. "No holiday lessons
for me. I loathe French, and I never can understand a single word that
mademoiselle says, so it's no use. If the Wrights like to sit on the
sand and 'parlez-vous,' they may. They're so fat, they can't rush about
like we do. That's why they keep so tidy. Charlotte's waist is exactly
twice as big as mine--we measured them yesterday with a piece of
string--and Aggie's cheeks are as round as puddings. You should see how
they all pant when they play cricket. They scarcely get any runs."

"And they really eat far more even than we do, mother," said Letty.
"Aggie had five buns on the shore yesterday, and Eric took sixteen
biscuits. I know he did, for we counted them, and he nearly emptied the
box."

"The Chesters are five times as jolly," declared Winnie. "Both Charlie
and Hilda went out shrimping with us this morning, and got sopping wet,
but they didn't mind in the least, and Mrs. Chester only laughed when
they went back. She said sea water didn't hurt. She's far nicer than
Mrs. Barrington. I wouldn't be Ruth Barrington for all the world. She
and Edna never have any breakfast, and they're made to do the queerest
things."

The unlucky little Barringtons were possessed of parents who clung to
theories which they themselves described as "wholesome ideas," and their
friends denounced as "absurd cranks." Many and various were the
experiments which they tried upon their children's health and education,
sometimes with rather disastrous results. Being at present enthusiastic
members of a "No Breakfast