As this was the case, went on Althea, she and Doreen both agreed that it would be cruel to part her and Mollie during the few months that remained to them. Mollie was coming to the Red House for some weeks to do her shopping, but when she went back to Cleveland Terrace, Waveney must go with her. "That is why I say that you and I must part, my child," finished Althea, gently. "I shall miss my bright companion sadly--so sadly, indeed, that I never mean to have another. But, Waveney, your father has the first claim to your services. I dare not deprive him of your society when Mollie has gone. There, we will not talk any more," as she saw that Waveney's eyes were full of tears. "Think over what I have said when you are at Eastbourne, and take Mollie into your confidence. I know she will say that I am right." And, indeed, when Waveney consulted her, Mollie, who was a very sensible little person, fully endorsed Queen Bess's opinion. "Of course I could not do without you, darling," she remarked with decision. "Moritz"--she always said his name so prettily and shyly--"would not like me to be alone, and as for father and Noel, they would be too uncomfortable with only that stupid Ann to look after them." And then Waveney owned, with a sigh, that she and Miss Althea were right. Waveney took herself to task severely for her reluctance at leaving the Red House. Was she guilty of loving the flesh-pots of Egypt? Was her home to be less to her because Mollie would not be there? Waveney cried "Shame!" to herself because the thought of Ann's clumsiness fretted her; while the meagre housekeeping, and all the pretty economies that had been Mollie's share, and were now to be shifted to her shoulders, filled her with a sore distaste and loathing. She had grown to love the Red House, and every room in it. The luxury, the comfort, the perfection of the trained service, the homelike atmosphere, the cultured society of the two sisters and their wide work and sympathies, all appealed strongly to Waveney's nature. Her life in the Red House had been a liberal education. How much she had learnt there! And then the Porch House Thursdays----But at this point in her reflections Waveney checked herself abruptly. Too well she knew where the sting lay, and why the pain of leaving Erpingham would be so sharp and continuous; only there could she enjoy the society of Mr. Chaytor, and she knew well that at Cleveland Terrace her Thursdays would be blank and sad. "Wave, dear," exclaimed Mollie, on that first evening, as they were together in their comfortable sitting-room looking out on the Parade and the sea, while Nurse Helena was busy in the room above unpacking their boxes, "isn't this one of our dreams come true, that you and I should be at the seaside together?"