one was so. They were Bridget and Smut, both apparently absorbed in
admiring the sunset.

'Isn't it beautiful, Smuttie?' Biddy was saying. 'It's the sun going to
bed, you know, dear.'

Smut wagged his tail.

'It's so pretty,' she continued, 'that it makes me think I'd like to be
good. P'raps I'd better fix to try again after all--what do you think,
Smut?'

Repeated and more energetic tail-wagging, accompanied this time by a
short sharp bark. Smut has had enough of the sunset and standing still;
he wants to be off again. But Bride interprets his response in her own
way.

'You think it would be better?--thank you, dear, for saying so. You are
so nice, Smut, for always understanding. Well, I will then, and I'll
begin by telling mamma I'm dreadfully sorry about my frock. Good-night,
sun--I wish I lived out in the lighthouse--one could see the sun right
down in the sea out there, I should think. I wonder if he stays in the
sea all night till he comes up at the other side in the morning? No--I
don't think he can though, for it says in my jography that it's sunshine
at the other side of the world when it's night here, so he can't stay in
the sea. I must ask Alie--p'raps it's not the same sun as in London.'

She turned, followed by Smut, who, failing to persuade her to another
scamper, consoled himself by poking his nose into the sand in search of
unknown dainties which I fear were not to be found. The pair came up to