"How pretty they are!" Mousey cried, her voice full of delight. "Oh, how pretty they are!"
"There are always a lot of them about here," Mr. Harding told her. "Haughton is only six miles from the coast, and the river flows straight to the sea. In stormy weather the gulls go much further inland than this."
They turned their backs on the river, and a few steps further on were passing a church when Mousey caught hold of Mr. Harding's hand, begging him to pause and listen for a moment. He complied, though somewhat unwillingly. The congregation was singing a hymn, and the refrain was a familiar one to the child.
"Christ is risen! Christ is risen!
He hath burst His bonds in twain:
Christ is risen! Christ is risen!
Alleluia! swell the strain!"
Mousey's countenance was lit up with a bright smile. She softly hummed the tune under her breath, and glanced longingly, towards the church door; but she raised no objection when her companion gruffly bade her, "Come along!"
"Am I to go to church with Maria to-night, Cousin Robert?" she inquired, with a wistful tone in her voice.
"Yes, if you wish it. I suppose you're accustomed to church on Sundays, eh?"