Queenie did not wish to quarrel with Phil, of whom she was very fond; but she registered a mental vow to let Bertie know what she thought of _him_, and to make him suffer for having been the cause of her disappointment. Phil’s question was answered in very scornful tones. “Who is Bertie? I’m sure I don’t know, nor anybody else. He was washed ashore one day, and lived at the Wickhams’ cottage for ever so many days. David is his great friend, so I suppose he was a common boy himself once. But the Squire has adopted him, and now he gives himself airs, and sets up for being a gentleman. I don’t think much of him. I shan’t play with him any more.” Phil laughed. He was always amused when Queenie put on her airs, and rather admired her for it, unless they were directed against himself. However, he made her tell him all she knew about Bertie, and found the curious story very interesting. “Poor little chap!” he said, kindly; “it must be horrid to forget everything like that. He’s a nice little fellow. I shall go and see him, and tell him how I got on with my father. He’ll like to know that I didn’t get much scolded. Will you come too?” Queenie was not best pleased at this arrangement, but she preferred to go rather than to be left behind, and so they climbed the fence together and went boldly up to the front door to inquire for Bertie. Bertie, however, was not at home. He had gone down to the shore, Pritchard thought, and Phil thought he should like to go to the shore too. “He’s gone to see his precious David, I suppose,” said Queenie, disdainfully. “He likes him better than he likes anybody else, and I don’t admire his taste.” “Why not?” asked Phil, who did not share his sister’s exclusive views. “David is a fisherman’s son,” said the little lady, with some scorn. “Well, he’s none the worse for that, I suppose.” “I don’t know what you call the worse. I know _I_ shouldn’t care to play with him.” “Well, I don’t mind,” answered Phil. “I like playing with any boys, if they’re jolly and all that; but of course you needn’t if you don’t like.” Queenie felt rather angry with Phil; but she did not say anything. She began to wonder if after all it would be so very nice having him at home all the summer. He had a way of unconsciously snubbing her that she did not care for at all. When they reached the sandhills they saw the two boys sitting on the shore, as they often did, not talking much, but enjoying the feeling of being together. Phil rushed forward with a whoop and a bound, and Bertie sprang up to ask him all about what had passed; and as soon as the story was told a regular game of play ensued between the boys, which brought the light to Bertie’s eyes and the color to his cheeks, and seemed at once to transform him into a new being.