At last Beryl was so annoyed at what she considered her aunt's heartlessness, that she was driven to say bluntly, "Well, aunt, you know that if you were half-drowned, and very ill, you would be thankful to any kind people who would take care of you; so I think it is very horrid of you to grumble because we have to do it."
Whereupon Beryl was well scolded for her impertinence, and no doubt she deserved it.
Her aunt's society proving so uninteresting, Beryl went upstairs again, and found, to her delight, that the little girl was awake, and less shy and fretful than on the previous night.
Beryl looked on with pleasure whilst Lucy arrayed the child in some of Beryl's clothes which she had long outgrown.
"What is your name, little girl?" asked Beryl, in such a dignified, patronising tone, that Lucy could hardly keep from smiling to hear her.
"Coral," replied the child.
"Coral!" repeated Beryl. "What a funny name! I have never heard of any one being named Coral; have you, Lucy?"
"No, I don't know that I ever have," replied Lucy; "but after all it is not much stranger than your own name, Miss Beryl."
"Oh, well," said Beryl; "you know that papa called me Beryl because it was the name of a song mamma used to sing to him."
"Yes," said Lucy; "and this little girl's parents may have had some such reason for calling her Coral."