The old woman complied with her request, and the little girl quickly dispatched her meal, snatched her straw hat from the rack in the hall, and ran out of the house and down to the beach.
She stood in the breach of the broken wall and looked all around for her playmate, but did not see him, and she thought she was going to be disappointed; but just then she heard the sound of a hammer, and knew it must come from one held in his hand, for there was no one else who worked on the beach.
She ran down and found him nailing loose boards on the old boat-house.
“Oh! David Lindsay,” she exclaimed, as soon as she saw him, “I have got something to tell you! What do you think it is? Oh, you would never guess! I am going away on Monday!”
“Oh! NO!” cried the boy, while a look of blank consternation came over his face.
“Indeed, I am! I don’t want to go; but they say I must, David Lindsay.”
“Oh! where are you going?” he asked, in a great trouble, that he never dreamed of trying to hide.
“To a boarding-school in Baltimore. Oh! I don’t want to go, David Lindsay! But they say I must!” cried the child, almost in tears again.
The lad sighed, looked thoughtful, and then said:
“Yes; I know. Even grandmother has said often: ‘Why don’t they send that little lady to school? She ought to be at school.’ So I suppose you must go, sure enough, and it is all right; but it is very har—hard!” said the boy, valiantly trying to suppress a sob, and succeeding in doing so.