"'Tisn't doing Sylvia any harm, anyway," she reflected, "and I know
she'll never have a disloyal thought of her father," and she pulled
another stocking over her hand.

"Well, you are interested now, certainly," remarked Edna, increasingly
surprised at the girl's perception of the quality of the work of the
various artists, combined with such comparative ignorance of their
names and reputations.

"I have never had much opportunity," said Sylvia simply, "and, as you
can see, I never made the most of what I did have. I suppose father had
ambition once"--

"Indeed he did, my dear!" put in Miss Lacey emphatically.

Sylvia started. In her absorption she had forgotten her aunt's
presence.

"Yes, I suppose so," she replied; "but things went hard with him, and
for years past the only work he could depend upon were the pictures he
made for advertisements and an occasional cartoon for a paper."

"Indeed," returned Miss Lacey, leaning forward and poking the fire in
her embarrassment. This was entirely gratuitous frankness on Sylvia's
part. "Well, I can assure you he was made for better things," she went
on, bridling. "When you visit me I will show you a landscape in my
parlor worth a thousand of the daubs people rave over. Half the time
you can't tell whether they're trying to paint a tulip field or a
prairie fire. Ridiculous! You can almost count the rings on the horns
of the cows in this landscape. It's what I call a _picture_."

It was well that Miss Lacey enjoyed this work of art, for it was all
she had to show for many a squeeze given to her slender purse by the
artist.

Edna paused in the talk she was led into by her guest's eager attention
and questions.

"Listen to the surf!" she exclaimed. "You must see that show, Sylvia.
We must go down to the rocks."

"Fine! But I haven't any other clothes if I wet these," returned the
girl, looking down.

"Oh, it's bathing suits to-day, and rubbers, and mackintoshes."

Soon they were equipped; and leaving the cottage by the back door they
worked their way around the corner of the house to the sea front, and
by the help of the sturdy trees that were making their usual good fight
with the elements managed to creep down to the upper tier of rocks.
Here it was impossible to hear one another speak, and the girls'
exhilaration could be expressed only by glances as they clung to each
other and the rocks, where to-day the foam flakes flew about them,
although it was usually