"Oh, no, a bedroom will be enough," answered Elma. "I do not care to go to the expense of a sitting-room." "You left your luggage I suppose, miss, at the railway station?" Elma colored and then turned pale. "No," she said; "I have not brought any luggage with me." The woman stared, opening her eyes very wide, now giving Elma a full and particular attention which she had not hitherto vouchsafed to her. She said nothing further, and Elma went downstairs. "I'll go down to the beach for a little," she said. "You might have some tea ready for me when I come back. I am very tired, and should like some tea and toast." "And a hegg, miss, or anything of that sort?" "No, thank you; just tea and toast, please. Nothing more." The woman stared after her as she went down the street. Elma got as far as the beach; she then sat down on a bench and gazed out at the waves. The tide was coming in. The beach at Saltbury was celebrated, and children were playing about, amusing themselves gathering shells, making sand-castles, and otherwise disporting themselves after the manner of their kind. A little boy was wading far out. Elma watched him with lack-luster eyes. She wondered vaguely how long he would be allowed to wade, and how deep he might go. He got as far as his knees, and then turned back. As he was going back he fell, wetting himself and crying out lustily. Elma continued to gaze at him with eyes which scarcely saw. "He thinks he is hurt," she said to herself, "that he has had a terrible misfortune. How little he knows what real pain means, and what real misfortune is! Here am I with money in my pocket which does not belong to me, having run away from home, disgraced for life, miserable for life. Oh! what shall I do?" It had been a very hot day, but the evening was chilly, and Elma shivered as she went back to her lodgings in South Street. She had brought away no wraps with her, and her thin cotton dress was not sufficient to keep out the chill of the sea breezes. She thought she would be glad to get under shelter, to go to bed, to wrap herself up and cover her face and court sleep. When she got to the door, however, the young landlady, who was evidently waiting for her, came out on to the steps. "If you please, miss," she said, "I am really very sorry, but my husband thinks----" "What?" said Elma. "That as you have no luggage, miss (you know it ain't customary for us to take in ladies without luggage)----" "Then you mean--" said Elma, turning very white and pale. "Yes, miss, I'm ever so sorry." "You can't give me the room even for one night?" "We can't really, miss." "But I can pay in advance," said Elma eagerly.