"Mother Carey," to call her by the family name that her husband had
given the first day she held a baby in her arms, had a capacity of
enjoyment that what she called her exile could not destroy. Even
Bobus left theory behind him and became a holiday boy, and the whole
six climbed rocks, paddled, boated, hunted sea weeds and sea animals,
lived on the beach from morning to night; and were exceedingly amused
by the people, who insisted on addressing the senior of the party as
"Miss," and thought them a young girl and her brothers under the
charge of Mrs. Acton. She, though really not a year older than her
friend, looked like a worn and staid matron by her side, and was by
no means disposed to scramble barefoot over slippery seaweed, or to
take impromptu a part in the grand defence of the sand and shingle
edition of Raglan Castle.

Even to Mrs. Acton it was a continual wonder to see how entirely
under control of that little merry mother were those great, lively,
spirited boys, who never seemed to think of disobeying her first
word, and, while all made fun together, and she was hardly less
active and enterprising than they, always considered her comfort and
likings.

So went things for a fortnight, during which the coming of the others
had been put off by Dr. Drew's absence. One morning Mr. Acton sought
Mrs. Brownlow on the beach, where she was sitting with her brood
round her, partly reading from a translation, partly telling them the
story of Ulysses.

He called her aside, and told her that her husband had telegraphed to
him to bid him to carry her the tidings that good old Mrs. Brownlow