search of, which stood in a terrace facing the sea, and was fronted by a
small garden of wind-proof and salt-proof evergreens, stone steps leading
up to the porch. It had its number in the row, but, being rather larger
than the rest, was in addition sedulously distinguished as Coburg House
by its landlady, though everybody else called it 'Thirteen, New Parade.'
The spot was bright and lively now; but in winter it became necessary to
place sandbags against the door, and to stuff up the keyhole against the
wind and rain, which had worn the paint so thin that the priming and
knotting showed through.

The householder, who bad been watching for the gentleman's return, met
them in the passage, and showed the rooms. She informed them that she
was a professional man's widow, left in needy circumstances by the rather
sudden death of her husband, and she spoke anxiously of the conveniences
of the establishment.

Mrs. Marchmill said that she liked the situation and the house; but, it
being small, there would not be accommodation enough, unless she could
have all the rooms.

The landlady mused with an air of disappointment. She wanted the
visitors to be her tenants very badly, she said, with obvious honesty.
But unfortunately two of the rooms were occupied permanently by a
bachelor gentleman. He did not pay season prices, it was true; but as he
kept on his apartments all the year round, and was an extremely nice and
interesting young man, who gave no trouble, she did not like to turn him
out for a month's 'let,' even at a high figure. 'Perhaps, however,' she
added, 'he might offer to go for a time.'

They would not hear of this, and went back to the hotel, intending to