"I dare say we might call there some afternoon. He seemed a kind old man, and I believe he really meant what he said, and would be pleased to see you."
"Weren't the people in the carriage funny, mother? How tiresome that pierrot was with his banjo, and the poor baby that wouldn't stop crying! I was so glad the little girl in the blue hat didn't miss the train. Isn't she lovely?"
"She's rather pretty," said Mrs. Stewart; "but I couldn't see her very well—she was sitting on my side, you remember."
"I think she's perfectly beautiful!" declared Isobel, with enthusiasm—"just like one of those expensive French dolls at the stores. Did you see them drive away in the landau? I wonder where they're staying, and if we shall ever meet them again?"
"Perhaps you may see her walking on the beach, or in church," suggested Mrs. Stewart.
"I hope I shall. I wonder what her name is. Do you think she'd mind if I were to ask her?"
"Perhaps her mother might not like it," replied Mrs. Stewart. "I'm afraid it would hardly be polite."
"But I do so want to get to know her. I haven't any friends here, you see, and I think she looks so nice."
"I'm sorry, dear, but I shouldn't care for you to try to scrape an acquaintance with these people. We shall manage to have a very happy time together, hunting for shells and sea-weeds. You must take me for a friend instead."
"You're better than any friend!" said Isobel, squeezing her mother's hand. "Of course I like being with you best, sweetest; only sometimes, when you're reading or lying down, it is nice to have somebody to talk to. I won't ask her her name if you say I'd better not; but I hope I shall see her again, if it's only just to look at her. Why, this is the house—there's No. 4 over the doorway; and that must be Mrs. Jackson standing in the front garden looking out for us. I think she ought to be Mr. Binks's cousin; she's as fat and red in the face as he is."