Mrs. Vane and Rosalys, who seemed to be waiting for them.

'Mamma,' Biddy began, in a very contrite tone, 'I've been thinking and
I want to tell you I am truly and really very, _very_ sorry about my
frock. I didn't mean not to seem sorry. I can't think how it got torn,
for Alie didn't tear hers, and she was playing about just the same.'

'I don't know either, Biddy,' said her mother. 'It is just the old
story, you must be more careful. Perhaps, to go back to the beginning,
it would have been better to change to an old frock if you meant to romp
about; _or_, it would have been better still perhaps, not to romp when
you knew you had a good frock on.'

'That was my fault, mamma,' Alie put in.

'Well, we must try and get the mischief repaired, and let us hope it
will be a reminder to you, Biddy, every time you wear this frock.'

Bridget murmured something; she meant to be very good. But when she got
a little behind her mother and Alie again she gave herself a shake.

'I shouldn't like that at all,' she thought. 'I should hate this frock
if it was always to remind me. I think mamma is rather like the mamma in
_Rosamund_ when she speaks that way, and I'm like Rosamund on her day of
misfortunes, only all my days are days of misfortunes. But I do think
I'm nicer than she was.'

As they reached the edge of the shore, where a gate opened into a
pathway through a field to the Rectory itself, Mrs. Vane stopped to look
across once more at the sunset.