"It was your dream, not mine, Mollie," returned Waveney, in a teasing voice. "You were the dreamer in the old days. I was far more prosaic and matter-of-fact." And then she settled herself more comfortably against Mollie's couch. "There was your Kitlands dream, you know, and a hundred others." "Oh, never mind Kitlands," replied Mollie, with a touch of impatience in her voice. "That was a dear dream, but of course it was too big and grand ever to come true. But how often we used to make believe that we were going to the seaside! Don't you remember, Wave, the little bow-window parlour over the tinman's in High Street that we were to take, and the sea-breezes that would meet us as we turned the corner, and how we were always to have shrimps for tea?" And then Mollie laughed with glee. "But this is much better, isn't it, dear?" and she looked at the big, cosy room that Ingram had selected for their use. They were like a pair of happy children that evening. Mollie had insisted that she and Waveney should share the big front bedroom; and she was so wide-awake and excited that she would have talked half the night, only Waveney sternly refused to be cajoled. "Nurse Helena has begged us not to talk," she said, "and I feel I am on my honour. No, Mollie, I will not be coaxed. I am a woman of my word, and I gave Nurse Helena my promise. There shall be no pale cheeks for the Black Prince to see on Saturday. Go to sleep like a good child." And then Mollie consented to be silent. It was a happy month, and nothing occurred to mar their enjoyment. They spent delightful mornings on the beach or parade; in the afternoon, while Mollie had her _siesta_, Waveney and Nurse Helena wrote their letters, or enjoyed the books with which Ingram had provided them; after tea, when the evenings were fine and warm, they drove into the country, coming back to an early supper. Moritz always came down from Saturday to Monday, and put up at the hotel close by. Once he brought Mr. Ward with him, and another time it was Noel; and then, indeed, Mollie's happiness was complete. Only one thing troubled Mollie as the days went on. In spite of her high spirits, Waveney was not quite herself. She had silent fits at times. She was absent and _distraite_, and did not always hear what Mollie said to her; and more than once as they sat in the moonlight, looking at the silvery path across the dark sea, Mollie had heard a suppressed sigh.