"I must warn you, she's in a great rage this morning," said her
father. "Do try to soothe her." She blushed, laughed, and bade her father
not be so silly. I asked her the cause of her great rage. She said:

"He only means I was disappointed. And he was just as
disappointed as I was. WEREN'T you, now, Father?"

"I suppose they meant well, Peggy," he laughed.

"They were QUITE right," said Mrs. Pethel, evidently not for
the first time.

"They," as I presently learned, were the authorities of the
bathing-establishment. Pethel had promised his daughter he would
take her for a swim; but on their arrival at the bathing-cabins they were
ruthlessly told that bathing was defendu a cause du
mauvais temps. This embargo was our theme as we sat down to
luncheon. Miss Peggy was of opinion that the French were
cowards. I pleaded for them that even in English watering-places bathing
was forbidden when the sea was VERY rough. She did not admit
that the sea was very rough to-day. Besides, she appealed to me, where
was the fun of swimming in absolutely calm water? I dared not say that
this was the only sort of water I liked to swim in.

"They were QUITE right," said Mrs. Pethel again.

"Yes, but, darling Mother, you can't swim. Father and I are both
splendid swimmers."

To gloss over the mother's disability, I looked brightly at Pethel, as