She had not yet discovered the domestic status of the two men, although she had put out many a feeler to learn whether they were unprotected males. She was wearing one of her prettiest dresses since their arrival, but the emergency sport suit of baronet satin would not come forth from its hanger on any such uncertainty. CHAPTER VIII SKETCHES "Our pebbles are getting a good washing, aren't they?" said Mrs. Lowell, when she and her protégé had reached the shore. The tide was high and she had Bert put the cushions in front of a rock which sprang from the grass on the edge of the stony beach. He followed her directions apathetically. "Put your pillow against the rock. See, there is a nice slanting place. Perhaps you will take a little nap. The sea is making a rather thunderous lullaby. Try it. I shan't mind; for here are my books and my writing-paper and pencils galore." The boy sank down beside her in the place she indicated and looked at the materials in her lap. She had opened a leather case and showed a tablet of paper fitted at the side with a case for pencils. "Do you ever write letters, Bertie?" "I--no." "When you and your uncle leave home, is there no one for you to write back to?" "There's Cora." "Your housekeeper?" The boy nodded, his eyes still on the books and materials in his friend's lap. She, alert to meet any show of interest on his part, took up one of the books. "Do you ever read the Bible, Bertie?" "I don't--no, I never did." "Didn't your mother ever read it to you?" The boy looked up into her eyes. "Yes, about the shepherd." "I'm so glad that you know that psalm," she returned gently. "Can you say it? The Lord is my shepherd?" He shook his head, and again his eyes dropped to the contents of her lap. "It is like a game of magic music," she thought. "There is something here I should do. Divine Harmony, Divine Love, show me what it is!" "Are you looking at this?" She took up the other book and pointed to the gold cross and crown on its cover. Then she offered it to him. He shook his head. "Veronica told me that your uncle hurt your feelings this morning," went on Mrs. Lowell, laying the book down. The boy's brows drew together and his gaze sought the ground. "You know the Bible is the most beautiful book in the world. It has hundreds of verses as lovely as those about the shepherd. This is one: Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. Fear Him means fear to displease Him on account of our love for Him and His love for us." It was so long since the boy had heard any mention of love that he looked up at her, still gloomily. "You know how unhappy you always were when you displeased your mother, and you know how she pitied you for your mistake and drew you back to her--and forgave you." "Yes--yes, I do."