Yet all was lovely on the coast, and Mr. White having occasion to go to San Remo, offered to take the three girls with him. “Young ladies always have a turn for shops,” said he. “I want to see the coast,” said Franceska, with a little dignity. “But I do want some gloves--and some blue embroidery silk, thank you, Mr. White,” said Anna, more courteously. “And I want some handkerchiefs, if Mr. White will take me too!” returned Uncle Clement in the same tone. “I know so well what you mean, dear,” observed Maura, sotto voce to Francie. “It is so trying to be supposed mere common-place, when one’s thoughts are on the beautiful and romantic.” It was just one of the sayings that had begun to go against Francie’s taste, and she answered-- “Mr. White is very good-natured.” “Ah, yes, but so--so--you know.” Francie was called, and left Mr. White’s description to be unutterable. The two elder ladies spent the day together, and Mrs. Grinstead then heard that Jane Mohun had written, that both Lord Ivinghoe and Lady Phyllis Devereux were recovering from the influenza, and that Lord Rotherwood had had a slight touch of the complaint. “It is a very serious thing in our family,” said Adeline, with all the satisfaction of having a family, especially with a complaint, and she began to enumerate the victims of the Devereux house and her own, only breaking off to exclaim, “I really shall write at once to beg them all to come here for the rest of the winter, March winds and all. My cousin Rotherwood has never been here, and they might be quite quiet among relations. So unlike a common health resort.” Mrs. White’s hospitable anticipations were forestalled. The party came home from San Remo in high spirits. They had met Lord Rotherwood and his son in the street, they had been greeted most warmly, and brought to luncheon at the villa, where they found not only Lady Rotherwood and Phyllis, but Mysie Merrifield. It was explained that their London doctor had strongly advised immediate transplantation before there was time to catch fresh colds, and a friend of the Marchioness, who permanently possessed a charming house at San Remo, had offered it just as it was for the spring. The journey had been made at once, with one deviation on Lord Rotherwood’s part, to beg for Mysie, as an essential requisite to his “Fly’s” perfect recovery. A visit had been due before, only deferred by the general illness, and no difficulty was made in letting it be paid in these new and delightful scenes. Phyllis had been there before. She was weak and languid, and would much rather have stayed at home, except for seeing Mysie’s delight in the mountains and the blue Mediterranean, which she dimly remembered from her infancy at Malta. Only she made it a point of honour not to allow that the sea was bluer than the bay of Rockquay.