"So they were. Hugh always sends the most mean ones. Weren't you in the train with us yesterday?"

"Yes. I saw you first at the bookstall at Tiverton."

"Didn't you think the people in the carriage detestable? I nearly died with the heat and stuffiness."

"It was dreadfully hot and noisy."

"Noisy! I don't know which was worse--the baby or the banjo! You were better off sitting by the window, though that fat old man would keep talking to you."

"He was rather kind," said Isobel; "I didn't mind him."

"I suppose you're staying at Silversands, aren't you?"

"Yes, at 4 Marine Terrace."

"We're in Marine Terrace too, at No. 12. We have the upstairs suite.

They're not bad rooms for a little place like this, but they don't know how to wait. Mother says she wishes they'd build a hotel here. What's it like at No. 4?"

"It's quite comfortable," replied Isobel. "We have a nice landlady."

"Are there only just you and your mother?"

"That's all."

"Have you no father?"

"He's dead. He was killed in the Boer War."

"Was he a soldier, then?"

"Yes; he was a captain in the Fifth Dragoon Guards."

"My father is dead too. Have you any brothers and sisters?"

"No. I never had any."

"Neither have I. I only wish I had. It's so lonely without, isn't it?"

"It is, rather; but I'm a great deal with mother."

"So am I; still, when she's at home she's out so much, and then I never know what to do."

"Don't you read?" said Isobel.

"I'm not fond of reading. I only like books when there's really nothing else to amuse myself with."

"You were buying a book at Tiverton. Which one did you get? Is it nice?"

"It's just a school story. I forget its name now. I haven't looked at it again."

"Then you didn't choose 'The Red Cross Knight' after all?"

"Oh, that's too like lessons! I've had all that with my governess, and about King Arthur too. I'm quite tired of them. Have you a governess?"

"No," replied Isobel; "I do lessons with mother."

"How jolly for you! I wish I did. I'm to be sent to school in another year, and I don't think I shall like that at all. When are you going?"

"Not till I'm thirteen, I expect."

"How old are you now?"

"Almost eleven."

"Why, so am I! When's your birthday?"

"On the thirteenth of September."

"And mine is on the tenth of October, so you're nearly a month older than I am. You haven't told me your name yet?"

"My name's Isobel Stewart."

"What!" cried the other, opening her blue eyes wide in the greatest astonishment. "That's _my_ name!"

"_Your_ name!" exclaimed Isobel, in equal amazement.

"Of course it is. _My_ name's Isabelle Stuart."

"How do you spell it?"

"I-S-A-B-E-L-L-E S-T-U-A-R-T."

"And mine's spelt I-s...o...b..E-L S-T-E-W-A-R-T, so that makes a little difference."

"So it does. I'm called 'Belle,' too, for short. Are you?"

"No; never anything but Isobel."

"It's funny. We're the same name and the same age, and we're staying in the same terrace. I think it is what you'd call a 'coincidence.' We came to Silversands on the same day, too, and in the same railway carriage.

We ought to be twin sisters. You're really rather like me, you know, only you're pale, and your hair doesn't curl."

Isobel shook her head. She had a very modest opinion of her own attractions, and would not have dreamt of comparing her appearance with that of her pretty companion, so very far did she think she ranked below the other's style of beauty.

"I should like to be friends, at any rate," she said shyly. "Perhaps I shall see you again upon the sh.o.r.e. I'm afraid that's your mother calling you. I think I ought to go home now too; I didn't mean to be out so long."

Isabelle Stuart sprang to her feet.

"Yes, it's mother calling," she said. "She's walked up with Mrs. Rokeby.

I must fly. But I hope we shall meet again. I shall look out for you on the sands. Good-bye!"