It was a very quiet Olive who was Mrs. Beauchamp’s companion during those days, and but for the doctor’s assurance that she would soon recover her usual robust health, both the old lady and Mrs. Drury would have been very anxious about her. As it was, they all strove to cheer and amuse her, as much as possible, and Monica and Elsa were untiring in their devotion. They never alluded to the episode on Gullane Cliffs in her hearing, as any reference to it seemed to revive the old, nervous fear which had seized her at the time; but they often found her looking with a sort of fascinated, and yet awestruck intentness, at the white cliffs in the distance, which closely resembled those beyond the lighthouse. One day Olive broke through the reserve herself. Monica, who had been bathing, was sitting beside her, her hair hanging dank and loose about her shoulders, in order that the sun might dry it. "Monica," she said, "you none of you ever say a word about _that day_, but I am always thinking of it. "Then I should begin to forget it at once," was the brusque reply. "It is all over and done with, and there is no need for _you_ to remember ’that day,’ as you call it, any more. As for me, I do not wish ever to forget it." And a happy smile overspread Monica’s sunburnt face. "Oh, I know," interposed Olive hastily, who was afraid her friend would open up the subject which she dreaded. "But even when I sleep, I always seem to feel myself slipping down, down, down; and I only stop when I wake. Oh, it is an awful feeling!" And the girl shuddered convulsively. "I am sure you could forget it if you made an effort to," was Monica’s apparently unfeeling reply. But she had overheard the doctor saying something similar, and, to her strong-minded nature, Olive’s fancy seemed ridiculous. "You will never be well until you do." Whether Monica’s sensible advice had any effect upon Olive, or whether she really was on the mend already, it would be difficult to say, but, at any rate, it was noticeable that from about that time the improvement in her was very marked indeed, and by the time their return to Osmington drew near, she had become practically herself again. Mrs. Beauchamp was extremely glad, as she would have been very sorry for either of her charges to have gone home the worse, rather than the better, for the holiday. "Oh, dear!" sighed Amethyst dolefully, as the quartette ensconced themselves for the last time in one of their favourite nooks, on a grassy slope overlooking the bay--"oh, dear! I _am_ sorry to be going home." "So am I!" echoed the others, and Elsa added, "Except that it will be just lovely to see mamma again." "If it weren’t for all of them at home," put in Olive, "I should like to stay until school begins." "We should find it rather dull," said Monica; "there would be no one left but us, for the Drurys would be gone. I miss the Herschels already, although they only went yesterday."