They would have to ride quite three miles to that part of Eastbourne where Mr Durrant had arranged that bathing tents were to be erected on the beach. Harriet sat down on the low window-sill, clasped her hands and looked out. Why was she here? She might have been as jolly as the others. Oh, no; of course she could not possibly be merry and gay like the rest of the children; it was not in her nature. Nevertheless, she had looked forward to her time at Sunshine Lodge. She had made a great boast to her brothers and sisters and to her home companions, of the gay and delightful time she was about to have. Well, why was not she having it? The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the distant sea looked, oh! so inviting. The crisp waves were even now coming up on the sands and retreating again with their everlasting `I wish, I wish' sort of sound. There were the donkeys for the contented children to ride, and there was the kindest of all hosts to give them every happiness. Why was she out of it? "Because I am so mad, and bad!" she thought; and then she covered her face with her hands and burst into angry tears. Harriet was neither sorry nor repentant, as she had been on that occasion when little Ralph was lost. She was furious at once with herself and with Robina, and even with Ralph. Why did Robina come prying and spying to her room? and why did she dare to bring Ralph with her? and then why did she make that detestable, hypocritical offer to her? Harriet, indeed, to be seen riding Robina's pony!--the pony given to Robina by Mr Durrant because she had been so kind to his little son! What a martyr Robina would look on one of the donkeys! and what a monster of selfishness she, Harriet, would appear riding on Bo-peep's back! Oh, yes: Robina wanted to serve her own ends when she would bestow on Harriet the favour of letting her ride her pony. "She thinks she is not sure of Ralph: she thinks she is not quite sure of Mr Durrant. She meant to clinch matters with both of them by her pretended unselfishness this morning," thought the furious girl. "But I have circumvented her: I am glad I have." However angry one may be; however furious one's passions may become, it is difficult to keep up the anger and the commotion and the fierce storm within the breast when there is no one to listen, no one to watch, no one, either, to sympathise or to blame. In the stillness of her little room Harriet's angry heart cooled down. Her cheeks no longer blazed with fury, her eyes no longer flashed. After her time of storm, she felt a sort of reaction which made her cold and dull and miserable. She was not a bit repentant, except in as far as regarded her own pleasure. But she was weary, and came to the conclusion that her life at Sunshine Lodge would not be such a happy one after all.