Bosom Friends

nst my judgment

sperity upon

s to be one row of lodging-houses down on the shore. I suppose that must be Marine Terrace, for there isn't any other.

you look better already. I shall expect you to grow quite rosy

f she knows Mr. Binks. Wasn't it nice of him to let me sit by the window? Do you think we shall be taking a walk to the 'bal

seemed a kind old man, and I believe he really me

was with his banjo, and the poor baby that wouldn't stop crying! I was so g

t; "but I couldn't see her very well-sh

one of those expensive French dolls at the stores. Did you see them drive away in

king on the beach, or in chu

her name is. Do you think she

e it," replied Mrs. Stewart. "I'm

r. I haven't any friends here, you

tance with these people. We shall manage to have a very happy time togethe

to have somebody to talk to. I won't ask her her name if you say I'd better not; but I hope I shall see her again, if it's only just to look at her. Why, this is the house-there's No.

s small parlour twice over for double the money but what I'd promised it to you. Not as I wanted to take 'em, though, for they was all noisy lots as would have needed a deal of waitin' on. I'd rather have quiet visitors like you and the youn

we can help," said Mrs. Stewart gently. "We seldom requir

fort of the armchairs. "And if there's anything else you'd like, I hope as you'll mention it. I'm a little short in my breath, and a bit lame in my right leg, bein' troubled wi

ave a very happy time indeed at Silversands. We should be glad if you could

this summer. Little missy looks fair tired out. But there's nought like a cup of tea

ted to the kitchen regions. "I'm sorry we have no view of the sea; but we can't help that, and we must

somewhat moth-eaten and dilapidated butterflies, a representation of Windsor Castle cut out in cork, some sickly portraits of the Royal Family in cheap German gilt frames, and a large Berlin wool-work sampl

ally five on the sofa. We must ask Mrs. Jackson to take some of them away. We would rather be without all these shell baskets and photo frame

of volumes which reposed on the top of the chiffonnier. "I've never seen such peculiar pictures. The little gi

ive Stories for Young People," which, with a well-thumbed edition of "Sandford and Merton," a battered copy of "The History of the Fairchild Family," and a few bound volumes of Cha

e as my books at home," said Isob

, however dry they may prove," laughed her mother. "Here comes our t

rself at the table.-"Do you know Mr. Binks, Mrs. Jackson? He said I

the White Coppice ever since I was a girl, and afore then, and him church-warden too, and owner of the Britannia, as good a scho

n as we were coming. He gave me his seat by the window, and asked us to

u; yes, I think we have everything we need at present. Polly might bring a little boiling water in a few

to old Mr. Stewart at the Chase. They did say as the son-him as was killed in the war-had married somewhere in furrin parts, and his father was terrible set against it, havin' a wife of his own choosin' ready for him at home. A regular famil

mon kind of a name. There was a Stewart second mate on the Arizona when we took kippers over to Belfast, and there was a chap called Stewart as used to k

h Emma Jane to Heatherton Church of a Sunday afternoon. A fine handsome young fellow he was, too, sittin' with his father in the family pew, takin' a yawn behind his hand durin' the sermon, and small blame to him t

hair as played the fiddle, whom you was sure was a furrin count, and who only turned out to be one of the band at Ferndale, and went off without payin' his bill; and there was a couple in the drawing-room as talked that grand about their motor car and their shootin' box and

terest in one's own visitors! There's the drawin'-room a-ringin', and the dinin'-room will be wantin' its te

Isobel was in bed, she might have seen her visitor slowly and with much care and thought composing a letter. Sheet after sheet of notepaper was covered, and then torn up,

not fail to see the likeness. I have done my utmost for her, but I am not able to give her the advantages I should wish her to have, and which, as her father's child, I feel it is hard for her to lack. She is named Isobel, after your only daughter, the little sister whose loss my husband always spoke of with so much regret, and whom he hoped she mi

inclined to draw back after all; she turned the letter over doubtfully in her hand, went a step away, then suddenly straightening herself with an air of firm determination, she droppe

d what he would have wished. I'm glad I have had the courage to make the attempt. He will