wasn't lighted
even. He thought you were dressing, and he wouldn't let me get up.
When he'd lighted the fire he went off to work again. He's painting his
boat, and he said he'd finish giving her her first coat before he'd stop
again; then she could be drying. I'll manage better another morning.
I daresay I'll feel better to-morrow."

Lucy did look very unwell, and Mona's heart was touched. "I wish father
had told me earlier," she said in a less grumbling tone. "I was awake at
seven, and got up and looked out of the window. I never thought of
dressing then, it seemed so early, and I didn't hear father moving."

"Never mind, dear, we will manage better another time. It's nice having
you home, Mona; the house seems so much more cheerful. You will be a
great comfort to us, I know."

Mona's ill-temper vanished. "I do want to be," she said shyly, "and I am
glad to be home. Oh, mother, it was lovely to see the sea again.
I felt--oh, I can't tell you how I felt when I first caught a glimpse of
it. I don't know how ever I stayed away so long."

Lucy laughed ruefully. "I wish I loved it like that," she said, "but I
can't make myself like it even. It always makes me feel miserable."

A heavy step was heard on the cobbled path outside, and for a moment a big
body cut off the flood of sunshine pouring in at the doorway.
"Is breakfast ready?" demanded Peter Carne's loud, good-tempered voice.
"Hullo, Lucy! Then you got up, after all! Well--of all the obstinate
women!"

Lucy smiled up at him bravely. "Yes, I've got down to breakfast.
I thought I'd rather have it down here with company than upstairs alone.
Isn't it nice having Mona home, father?"

Peter laughed. "I ain't going to begin by spoiling the little maid with
flattery, but yet, 'tis very," and he beamed good-naturedly on both.
"Now, then, let's begin. I'm as hungry as a hunter."

By that time the cloth was laid, a dish of fried bacon and bread was
keeping hot in the oven, and smelling most appetisingly to hungry folk,
and the kettle was about to boil over. Through the open doorway the
sunshine and the scent of wallflowers poured in.

"Them there wallflowers beat anything I ever came across for smell,"
remarked Peter as he finished his second cup of tea.

"I dreamed about wallflowers," said Mona, "and I seemed to smell them
quite strong," and she told them her dream--at least a part of it.
She left out about the forget-me-nots that she rowed and ro