can either get on to the road above the shore--it's a proper road--or
cut across a very sandy place, much sandier than the common.'

'No,' said Alie, 'I'd rather go along the road even if it's farther.
Walking on sand is so tiresome, and spoils one's boots so. Biddy, I
think you'd better walk quietly: remember what papa said, and you know
you are rather unlucky.'

It was pleasant walking along the firm, hard road, and the fresh air was
exhilarating--the sunshine, thin and wintry though it was, gilded palely
the little shallow lakes and pools left by the outgoing tide along the
shore, for it was almost low water now. Even the bare stretches of sand
did not look ugly, as they sometimes do--a touch of sunshine makes all
the difference! And the even stony path--a sort of natural breakwater
running out towards the lighthouse--here and there caught a gleam or two
from the sky.

'It looks quite different to last night,' said Alie. 'That's one thing
I like the seaside for; it's always changing.'

'And the wind's gone down with the tide,' said Randolph, 'though it did
blow last night. There'll be rough weather before long, everybody says.'

'I _would_ so like to be in the lighthouse if there was a storm,' said
Biddy. 'That isn't naughty to wish, Alie, for the lighthouse is to keep
away shipwrecks. And if there just _was_ one, you know, it _would_ be
nice to be there to help the poor wet people, and carry them in to the
fire, and rub them dry with hot blankets, like in that story, you know.'

'A lot you'd be able to carry,' said Rough contemptuously. 'Why, you're