Nurse says so--you were a regular roundabout till you had the measles;
mamma says so too,' replied Bridget philosophically.

'I'm quite hot,' said Rosalys; 'fancy being hot in January! But we'd
better not stand still or we'll get a chill. Isn't it nice to come out
alone? I'd like to walk to Seacove--I want to see what it's like, but of
course we mustn't go so far. Mamma said we must stay on the shore.'

'If it was summer we might dig and make sand-castles,' said Biddy
regretfully. Digging in the sand was an amusement much more to her taste
than running races.

'I think that's stupid--it's such baby play,' Rosalys replied. 'But come
on, do. I'm going to climb up to the top of that bank--that's the
sand-hills papa was speaking about.'

It was more tiring work than she had expected. Before they got to the
top of the bank Alie had decided that they would have done better to
remain where they were, on the smooth firm sand down below, but once at
the top she changed again. What fun can be more delightful than playing
in sand-hills, jumping from a miniature summit to the valley beneath
with no fear of hurting one's self even if one comes to grief and rolls
ignominiously as far as one can go! How helplessly one wades in the
shifting, unstable footing--tumbling over with a touch, like a house
built of cards! The children's laughter sounded merrily in the clear
cold air; Bridget plunged about like a little porpoise in the water, and
Rosalys quite forgot that she had attained the dignity of her teens.

But a bell ringing suddenly some little way off caught their ears.