As they rode on over the level roads through the bright sunshine, and with the fresh breeze whistling in their ears, they all grew merry and cheerful. Bertie was delighted with his pony, Phil was as full of fun and chatter as a monkey, and Queenie, though rather inclined to be “on her high horse,” was too pleased at the prospect of the picnic to be cross to Bertie. He felt sure she was not quite friendly towards him by the way she laughed at any blunders he might make and teased him whenever she had the chance; but he always considered it Queenie’s privilege to plague him, and submitted to it with great humility. At length they reached their destination, and Bertie was very much impressed by the change in the character of the coast as they approached. The level sands with which he was so well acquainted had been gradually merged in tracts of rocky coast of a wild and strange formation; and as they proceeded onwards the rocks grew higher and higher, until they became great frowning cliffs, sometimes jutting far out into the sea, in other places sweeping inwards and forming great coves or bays, many of which were floored by the loveliest white sand or by pebbles of every color of the rainbow. Bertie thought he had never before seen anything so beautiful, and he rode along for the last few miles in a sort of dream of wonder and delight, feeling quite lifted out of himself by the beauty of all he saw. At last they reached the bay that was to be their goal, and reined up their ponies at the top of the cliff. Far away in the distance they saw a boat slowly rowing through the blue waves. It was plain it could not reach the bay for at least half an hour. “Ha, ha!” laughed Phil, triumphantly. “I told those other fellows that we should be here the first. Now, get off, you two, and I’ll take the ponies to a farmhouse I know close by, and then we’ll find the path and climb down it, so as to be waiting for them when they come.” Phil led off the three ponies, and Queenie and Bertie were left standing on the cliffs together. The little girl began fastening up her long riding-skirt by means of cleverly-arranged loops and buttons devised by nurse to keep it out of her way whilst she was climbing about the rocks, and Bertie went down on his knees to help her, and as she condescended to permit his attentions he asked, timidly,— “Are you cross with me, Queenie?” Queenie made a little disdainful gesture. “Cross? What a question! Do you think I should ask you to come with us if I were?” “I thought you seemed rather vexed,” explained Bertie, with gravity. “Well, it would serve you right, I think, if I were,” she answered, judicially. “You know you were horribly stupid yesterday.” “I’m afraid I was,” he answered, meekly; “only I _can’t help_ being so frightened on the water; I do try not to mind,—I do indeed,—but trying doesn’t seem any good.” Queenie smiled rather severely.