Gracie Seton-Carr.
The child's glance came off the page; she moved away a pace. Looked up into his eyes, her own flashing like diamonds. Such little things please—in that time of happiness when we are little ourselves. After drawing a long breath she ejaculated triumphantly:
Once more Masters gladdened the little one, by acting as he was expected to act. No man on that coast could have worn a larger-sized look of astonishment. He cried:
"Won—der—ful!"
A clapping of hands in her glee, and the child danced merrily along to the other end of the seat.
"I've written my name with one of those funny squirter pens, Miss Mivvins! What do you think of that?"
"I think you have a funny way of keeping your word, Gracie. You professed anxiety to finish your castle on the sands, yet you are spending your time on the wall!"
"Oh-h-h!"—prolonged and drawn out—"I had forgotten all about it!"
Attention diverted from the pen, the child ran down the steps on to the beach. A few minutes after, Masters, looking up, saw her busily at work with a spade and pail. The implements had evidently been left there in the morning.