CHAPTER XXIII
Recognition
Saturday came. Torn, ragged clouds were driven across the sky. It was not a becoming day for the scenery, and the little girls regretted it much. First they hoped for a change at twelve o'clock, and then at the afternoon tide-turning. But at neither time did the sun show his face.
"Papa will never buy this dear place," said Elizabeth, sadly, as she watched the weather. "The sun is everything to it. The sea looks quite leaden to-day, and there is no sparkle on it. And the sands, that were so yellow and sun-speckled on Thursday, are all one dull brown now."
"Never mind! to-morrow may be better," said Ruth, cheerily.
"I wonder what time they will come at?" inquired Mary.
"Your papa said they would be at the station at five o'clock. And the landlady at the Swan said it would take them half an hour to get here."
"And they are to dine at six?" asked Elizabeth.
"Yes," answered Ruth. "And I think if we had our tea half an hour earlier, at half-past four, and then went out for a walk, we should be nicely out of the way just during the bustle of the arrival and dinner; and we could be in the drawing-room ready against your papa came in after dinner."