"Oh! mamma, what a shame of you to go without me!" cried a voice from the window where a young girl was standing.

"You were so late, dear," said Mrs. Woburn gently. "Here is your cousin; take her to her room; I am sure she must be tired after her long journey."

Julia, a pretty fair-haired fashionably-dressed girl, came forward and shook hands, saying, "How d'ye do, Ruth? I am glad mamma met you. Will you come upstairs?"

She led the way to a pretty bedroom, much larger than the one in which Ruth had slept at Cressleigh. There was a splendid view of the sea from the windows, and the furniture of the room was all of light polished wood; a pretty dressing-table stood between the windows, which were hung with white muslin curtains, and the hangings and cover-lids of the two little beds were snowy white.

"What a pretty room!" said Ruth, as she entered.

"Do you think so? I think it is awfully small and poky. And we are both to sleep here, which I am sure will be very inconvenient; but we couldn't get anything better, so I suppose we must put up with it.

Lodgings are always the great drawback to the sea-side, you know."

Ruth did not know what reply to make, she was so taken aback by the grandeur of Julia's air and manner.

CHAPTER V.

COUSINS.

"Tea is ready, miss," said a trim maid-servant at the door of the bedroom where the two girls were talking, and Ruth followed her cousin downstairs to the large cheerful room she had entered upon her arrival.

Mrs. Woburn had already taken her seat behind the urn, and the two boys who were sitting beside her rose to meet their cousin. Ernest, the elder of the two, was a tall, thin lad of fifteen, with a pair of large brown eyes, the only striking feature in his plain but sensible face.

Rupert was a merry little schoolboy of seven, bright-eyed and curly-haired, a mischievous little sprite, no doubt, but a very affectionate lovable little fellow. He chattered continually during the meal, and did a great deal to take off the sense of shyness that Ruth felt in the company of Julia and Ernest, and her aunt asked questions about the farm-life at Cressleigh, and talked of their plans for the next few weeks.

"Oh! you will have a great deal to see," said Julia, "as this is your first visit to the sea-side. I think we had better put on our hats and go for a long walk at once, it is a shame to be indoors this lovely evening."

"That will hardly do for your cousin, dear; she looks rather tired, and we must remember that she has had a long journey to-day."

Ruth was very tired, and, much as she longed to go for a walk along the sh.o.r.e, she felt that that pleasure must be deferred until the next morning. But she was rather dismayed by Julia's saying, "Well, I don't see any reason for our remaining indoors. Of course Ernest won't come, he is too much taken up with that book about--sh.e.l.lology. So he can stay with Ruth while you come out with us."

"Why can't you call things by their right names, and say 'conchology'?"

asked Ernest quietly.

"Really, Julia, I don't think we must leave your cousin this evening,"

said Mrs. Woburn, doubtfully.

"Don't stay at home on my account, auntie," replied Ruth, putting aside her own feelings, though she did not much like the idea of spending the evening with Ernest, such a grave, quiet boy, so very different from her brothers.

Julia carried her point, and started in a few minutes for a walk with her mother and Rupert, leaving the cousins to their own resources. Ruth took a seat near the window, and watched the waves breaking gently upon the beach, while the boy appeared to be entirely occupied with his book.

It was rather dull, this first evening away from home; it seemed scarcely possible that she had really only left Cressleigh that morning, and she began to wonder if they had missed her very much, and what they were doing now, and when she should see them all again, and as she thought of the months that must elapse first she heaved a weary sigh.

The sigh roused Ernest, who had quite forgotten his companion in the charms of his book, and he at once endeavoured to make amends for his neglect in his kind but awkward way.

"Oh! I beg your pardon," he began, "I almost forgot--do you like conchology?" he asked, by way of starting a conversation.

"I don't know anything about it," was Ruth's meek reply, "but I believe it is the science of sh.e.l.ls, is it not?"

"Yes. I thought you wouldn't care for it. Girls never do."

"Perhaps I might learn," she said humbly; "but I haven't had a chance to study any 'ologies,' they did not teach them at Miss Green's. Are you studying it as a holiday task?"

"No, for amus.e.m.e.nt. They won't let me study in the holidays, but I enjoy this. Just look at these sh.e.l.ls, aren't they beauties?" and he showed her one of the ill.u.s.trations in his book.

"Oh! how beautiful!" she exclaimed; and the boy, seeing she was interested, told her what he had been reading, and promised to get her some specimens the next day, and the time slipped rapidly by, until Mrs.

Woburn and Julia returned.

"What have you been doing all the evening?" asked Julia, when they were in their room that night. "Was Ernest civil?"

"He was very kind, and showed me his book on conchology, and explained about the sh.e.l.ls, and he is going to get me some specimens to-morrow."

"Indeed!" said Julia, rather surprised, "I should not have thought that you cared for that sort of thing."

Ruth was too tired to answer, and had soon forgotten the events of the day in sound refreshing sleep. When she awoke, the sun was shining brightly, and she was astonished to find that she had slept until half-past seven. She was accustomed to rise very early at home, and was afraid that her cousins would be shocked at her laziness, until she found that Julia was still sleeping quietly in the bed beside her.

"Julia! Julia!" she cried, "it's very late. We must get up at once."

"What is the time?" was asked drowsily.

"Half-past seven."

"Why can't you let me rest?" said Julia crossly. "We always breakfast at eight at home, but I don't intend to get up so early at the sea-side."

She closed her eyes and went to sleep again; but Ruth, who was wide awake, rose at once, dressed quickly, brushed her brown curls, and went downstairs. There was no one about, and the morning air was so fresh, and the sunshine so inviting, that she took her hat and ran down to the beach, feeling so full of joy and gladness that she could hardly restrain herself from singing, as she often did in the fields at Cressleigh. The sunlight sparkled upon the crested waves as they broke gently upon the sh.o.r.e, and the tide came in, slowly creeping up the shingle, now bearing away a dry piece of sea-weed and making it look alive and fresh, advancing and retreating, yet ever creeping slowly upward, until one wave almost broke over her feet and reminded her of the old and oft-repeated adage, "Time and tide wait for no man."

She hurried back, to find her aunt and cousins waiting breakfast for her; and as she told them about her morning ramble, she did not notice the unpleasant glances which Julia bestowed upon her dress, a blue cotton one, made very simply, but somewhat old-fashioned, and washed until the colour was rather faded.

"We must certainly go out this lovely morning," said Mrs. Woburn after breakfast. "Where do you think your cousin would like to go, dear?"

"Oh! we'll go to the Esplanade of course," replied Julia, as she ran off to get ready. She came down a few minutes later looking very nice in her pretty holland dress trimmed with red, and shady straw hat with muslin and lace bows, and dainty gloves.

"You don't mean to say that you are going out like that, Ruth!" she exclaimed, as she caught sight of her cousin sitting by the window still wearing her print dress and shabby straw hat.

"Yes," she replied, and was going to ask "Why not?" but the sight of her cousin's simple but pretty costume stopped her, and she blushed rosy red.

"Then of course we cannot go to the Esplanade," said Julia in a pointed manner.

CHAPTER VI.

STONEGATE.

"The Esplanade did you say, girls?" asked Mrs. Woburn, entering at that moment.