“But ’ee ought to, darling. ’Ee’s a little lady, and ’ee ought to be trained up as such.” “But I don’t want to be, Granny Lindsay! I want to stay home with dee-ar Marcel and you and David Lindsay!” sadly persisted the child. “’Ee must subject ’eeself to ’ee pastors and masters, little lady. They do all for ’ee own good.” “Aunt Agrippina says that I am a countess, Granny Lindsay; but I know I am not. I am worse at counting than at anything else. I never could learn the multiplication table,” said the child, with a look of perplexity and vexation. “So much the more reason for ’ee to go to school, my little lady! Now sit ’ee up to table and have some dinner.” Little Glo’ soon forgot her trouble in the society of Granny Lindsay and David. She passed a “happy, happy half day,” then, with many kisses, took a loving leave of her old friend, and returned home in charge of the fisher lad. It was sunset when they landed on the promontory beach. “To-morrow is Sunday. Uncle and aunt and I will go to church at La Compte’s Landing. But after church we shall come directly home. Will you come in the afternoon to bid me a last good-by before I go? You know we are to start before day on Monday, so as to catch the St. Inigoes stage-coach,” said little Glo’, as she was about to take leave of her friend. “Yes, indeed. I am going to church at St. Inigoes, but I will go to early mass, so as to be back in time to come here in the afternoon,” replied the boy. “So do! Good-night, David Lindsay!” “Good-night!” “God bless you, David Lindsay!” “And you, too!” She sped away towards the house, not singing and dancing as had been her custom. Her little loving heart was too heavy with the thought of parting with her friends. The next day she went with her uncle and aunt to morning service at La Compte’s Landing, returned with them to a early dinner, and then went down to the beach to bid a last good-by to her friend and playmate. He was waiting for her with a box of fine shells in his hand. “These are some that grandfather brought home from the Indian Ocean. Granny has kept them for a long time; but she wants you to have them now,” he said, rising and offering the box. “Oh, how beautiful!” she exclaimed, sitting down with the box on her lap, and beginning to examine them. “So many different colors! so many different shapes and sizes! Not two alike!” “People can make pretty boxes and vases out of them, granny says. Make the boxes and things out of pasteboard, you know, and stick the shells on them with glue,” said the boy, as he stood looking down on her, pleased that she was pleased with his humble offering. “Oh, but I think it would spoil the pretty shells to fix them on to anything! I like them to be free, so I can pour them from one hand to the other, and turn them over! Oh, David Lindsay, I am so glad to have them! And so glad you gave them to me, too!” “Granny gave them to me to give to you.”