Jack’s seventeenth birthday was a glorious day, and before the sun was high in the horizon, he, and Fairy, and the two other boys were on their way to the seaside, with their dinners in a basket. They were all in high spirits, for a holiday was a rare thing indeed for Jack, and Willy was nearly always at sea, so it was a treat to have him with them, especially to Jack, whose favourite brother Willy was. Moreover, when Willy was there, he would be sure to take Charlie away for part of the day, and leave Jack and Fairy together, and this was a thing to be very thankful for in Jack’s opinion, for he considered Charlie a little nuisance, and had always been very jealous of his brotherly affection and friendship for Fairy. One thing in particular annoyed Jack; Charlie always kissed Fairy every night when he went to bed—a thing neither he nor his father ever ventured to do, nor had Willy ever done so since he came back from sea; but Charlie kissed her every night in the coolest way; and when Jack remonstrated with his mother, as he sometimes did about it, Mrs. Shelley only laughed and said as they were foster brother and sister, and both still mere children, it was quite natural. But this day was destined to be a very happy one for Jack; he was the hero of it, and Fairy gave herself up to making it as pleasant for him as possible. Her present had delighted him greatly, so he started in his happiest mood. He was lucky, too, and found a nest of a Cornish chough in the chalky cliffs, with five little birds, one of which Jack took home alive and made a great pet of; then, as they neared Newhaven, he shot a water-ousel with his catapult, to add to his collection of stuffed birds found in the neighbourhood. Jack was a charming companion on a country walk; he knew every bird they came across, and his delight and excitement when they saw a rare or scarce bird was charming to witness. A flight of crossbills, or a ring-ousel, was a delightful incident to Jack; and when, in the evening at Newhaven, he actually descried a stormy petrel skimming over the surface of the sea in its usual business-like way, as if all the affairs of the nation depended on it, his delight was unbounded. He had had a glorious birthday, he declared—only one little shadow was cast across it on their way home, when, as they reached the top of the down, at the foot of which lay the shepherd’s house, they met Dame Hursey. Now Jack never could bear Dame Hursey to approach Fairy! He always connected her in some way or other, how, he did not exactly know, with Fairy’s arrival, and he had a very shrewd suspicion that the old wool-gatherer knew far more than anyone else about Fairy’s parentage. One thing was certain—she was most curious about the child, and never met either Jack or his father without talking about her, and trying to find out something about her; and if she could only speak to Fairy herself, she was quite happy; but