launched herself across the rocking carriage, and flung her arms round
her mother's neck.

"Gently, gently, darling," said mother, smiling. "I haven't got a
hand--Alick is holding it so fast--but I missed you, Susie. There is
something there, outside, that I wanted to be the first to show you."

Susie, still rather subdued, leant as far out of the window as the bars
allowed, and let the wind from the engine blow the curls about her face.
Away, far on the horizon, was a silver line, as straight as if it had
been ruled with a ruler, and a shining white speck showed against the
yellow evening sky.

"What is it?" said Susie, breathlessly.

"It is the _sea_," her mother told her, "and the white sails of the ships
are going out with the tide."

"Mother, I mean never to be naughty again," said Susie suddenly; "only I
know that to-morrow I shall forget, and be as horrid as I was to-day."

Susie was tired, and more tears seemed imminent. The train was slowing
down, and the screeching of the engine almost drowned her voice.

"Pick up the parcels, and be quite ready to jump out," said Mrs.
Beauchamp hastily. "Susie, you must not grow perfect _too_ suddenly;
I shouldn't know you!"