Mrs. Hilary made no direct reply, but presently
she began to talk.

"I was just about Phyllis's age--(by the way, little Miss Phyllis was
there)--when I first saw Hilary. You remember, Hilary? At Bournemouth?"

"Oh--er--was it Bournemouth?" said Hilary, with much carelessness.

"I was on the pier," pursued Mrs. Hilary. "I had a red frock on, I
remember, and one of those big hats they wore that year. Hilary wore--"

"Blue serge," I interpolated, encouragingly.

"Yes, blue serge," said she fondly. "He had been yachting, and he was
beautifully burnt. I was horribly burnt--wasn't I, Hilary?"

Hilary began to pat the dog.

"Then we got to know one another."

"Stop a minute," said I. "How did that happen?" Mrs. Hilary blushed.

"Well, we were both always on the pier," she explained. "And--and
somehow Hilary got to know father, and--and father introduced him to
me."

"I'm glad it was no worse," said I. I was considering Miss Phyllis, who
sat listening, open-eyed.

"And then you know, father wasn't always there; and once or twice we met
on the cliff. Do you remember that morning, Hilary?"

"What morning?" asked Hilary, patting the dog with immense assiduity.

"Why, the morning I had my white serge on. I'd been bathing, and my hair
was down to dry, and you said I looked like a mermaid."

"Do mermaids wear white serge?" I asked; but nobody took the least
notice of me--quite properly.

"And you told me such a lot about yourself; and then we found we were
late for lunch."

"Yes," said Hilary, suddenly forgetting the dog, "and your mother gave
me an awful glance."

"Yes, and then you told me that you were very poor, but that you
couldn't help it; and you said you supposed I couldn't possibly--"

"Well, I didn't think--!"

"And I said you were a silly old thing; and then--" Mrs. Hilary stopped
abruptly.

"How lovely," remarked little Miss Phyllis in a wistful voice.

"And do you remember," pursued Mrs. Hilary, laying down her embroidery
and clasping her hands on her knees, "the morning you went to see
father?"

"What a row there was!" said Hilary.

"And what an awful week it was after that! I was never so miserable in
all my life. I cried till my eyes were quite red, and then I bathed
them for an hour, and then I went to the pier, and you were there--and I
mightn't speak to you!"

"I remember," said Hilary, nodding gently.

"And then, Hilary, father sent for me and told me it was no use; and I
said I