run too when she chose, brought her to the end, or the beginning,
whichever you like to call it, of the long rough road, so to speak, of
stones, stretching far out to sea. Biddy had gone some way along it two
or three times when out with the others; it was a very interesting place
to walk along, as the outgoing tide left dear little pools, which held
all sorts of treasures in the way of seaweed and tiny crabs and
jellyfish, besides which, the scrambling over the pools and picking
one's way was very exciting, especially when there was a merry party of
three or four together. Biddy found it amusing enough even by herself,
for some little time, that is to say. But after a while she got rather
tired of not being able to walk straight on, and once or twice sharp
stones cut and bruised her feet, and she wished she had some one's hand
to take to steady her. She was very eager to get to the other end of the
tongue, or ridge of stones, for once there she felt sure it would be but
easy walking over sand to the lighthouse. For the lighthouse as you will
have guessed, was her destination!

'I daresay the sand'll be rather wet,' she thought; 'it must be the
wetness that Celestina thought was water, for it shines just like water
sometimes. I'll run over it very quick and my boots are thick. What fun
it'll be to tell Celestina I've been to the lighthouse all by myself!'

But the stones grew rougher and rougher. The tongue was not really more
than half a mile long, but it seemed much more. Several times before she
got to the end of it Biddy looked back with a half acknowledged thought
that perhaps it would be best to give up the expedition after all--no
one need know she had tried it. But behind her by this time the rough
stones seemed a dreary way, and in front it did not now look far. She
felt as if she _could_ not go back, and she had a sort of vague hope
that somehow or other the nice old man Celestina had told her of would