ome in----"

"Aye, and when they don't come in," said granny. "I ain't so fond of the
sea as you are, and I should never know any rest of mind down close by it.
Every time the wind blew I'd be terrified."

Mona looked vexed. "It isn't often that there's any place at all to let,"
she said crossly. "If we don't take what we can get, we shall never go at
all."

But Granny Barnes was not alarmed. "Don't you trouble yourself about
that. Your father'll find us something for certain. He'd got his eye on
a little place when he was here, he wanted me to take it then. I almost
wish I had, now. Never mind, I'll write to him to-night or to-morrow.
If I was well I would go in by John Darbie's van and have a look about for
myself."

All this sounded so much like business, that Mona sat up, all her glumness
falling from her. When Granny Barnes once made up her mind to do a thing,
she did not let the grass grow under her feet. There was, after all, much
of Mona's nature in her, and when once she had made up her mind to leave
her old home, it almost seemed as though she could not get away quickly
enough.

Perhaps it was that she felt her courage might fail her if she gave
herself much time to think about things. Perhaps she felt she could not
face the pain and the worry if she gave herself time to worry much.
Or, it may have been that she really did feel anxious about Mona's health
and her own, and wanted to be settled in Seacombe as soon as possible.

At any rate she so managed that within a fortnight all her belongings were
mounted on to two of Mr. Dodd's waggons and were carried off to the new
home, while she and Mona followed in John Darbie's van, seen off by Mrs.
Lane. Mrs. Lane was very tearful and sad at parting with them.

"I know it's for the best for both of you--but I feel as if I can't bear
the sight nor the thought of the empty home." Then she kissed them both,
and stood in the road in the sunshine, waving her hand to them till they
were out of sight.

"Wave your handkerchief to her, Mona; blow another kiss to her, child."
But granny kept her own head turned away, and her eyes fixed on the bit of
white dusty road which lay ahead of them. Neither could she bear the
sight of the empty house, nor of the neighbour she was leaving.

Mona's eyes were full of tears, but granny's were dry, though her sorrow
was much deeper than Mona's. John Darbie tactfully kept his tongue quiet,
and his eyes fixed on the