"But would you love a girl, whatever happened?" asked Penelope, all of a sudden. "Oh, I don't know what you mean--whatever happened--what could happen?" "Nothing--of course--nothing; only I wonder, Honora. I never seemed to know you at all when I was at school. I wonder if you could love a girl like me." "I love you already, dear," said Honora. "And now, please, don't be morbid; just let's be jolly and laugh and joke; every one can do just what every one likes--this is Liberty Hall, of course. It's a home of delight, of course. It's the home of `Byegone dull Care';--oh, it's the nicest place in all the world, and I want you to remember it as long as you live. I am so glad mother allowed me to ask you! Now then, do see those youngsters, Pauline and Nellie, tumbling over the hay-cocks: how sunburnt they are! such a jolly little pair! I am sorry about Nellie's bracelet; the loss of it makes her think too much of that sort of thing. I am quite afraid she will never find it now. What would you like to do, Penelope? You looked so happy when you came downstairs, but now you're a little tired." "I think I am a little tired," said Penelope. "I think for this morning I'd like a book best." "Then here we are--this is the school library: every jolly schoolgirl's and schoolboy's story that has ever been written finds its way into this room. Run in, and make your choice, and then come out. The grounds are all round you--shade everywhere, and pleasure, pleasure all day long." CHAPTER FIFTEEN. THE SEASIDE. Brenda and her three pupils had arrived two or three days before at Marshlands-on-the-Sea. It cannot be said their lodgings were exactly "chic," for the Reverend Josiah could not rise to apartments anything approaching to that term. He had given Brenda a certain sum which was to cover the expenses of their month's pleasure, and had told her to make the best of it. Brenda had expostulated and begged hard for more; but no--for once the Reverend Josiah was firm. He said that his suffering parishioners required all his surplus money, and that the girls and their governess must stay at the seaside for five guineas a week. Brenda shook her head, and declared that it was impossible; but, seeing that no more was to be obtained, she made the best of things, and when she arrived at Marshlands just in the height of the summer season, she finally took up her abode at a fifth-rate boarding-house in a little street which certainly did not face the sea.