“So do! Good-night, David Lindsay!”
“Good-night!”
“God bless you, David Lindsay!”
“And you, too!”
She sped away towards the house, not singing and dancing as had been her custom. Her little loving heart was too heavy with the thought of parting with her friends.
The next day she went with her uncle and aunt to morning service at La Compte’s Landing, returned with them to a early dinner, and then went down to the beach to bid a last good-by to her friend and playmate.
He was waiting for her with a box of fine shells in his hand.
“These are some that grandfather brought home from the Indian Ocean. Granny has kept them for a long time; but she wants you to have them now,” he said, rising and offering the box.
“Oh, how beautiful!” she exclaimed, sitting down with the box on her lap, and beginning to examine them. “So many different colors! so many different shapes and sizes! Not two alike!”
“People can make pretty boxes and vases out of them, granny says. Make the boxes and things out of pasteboard, you know, and stick the shells on them with glue,” said the boy, as he stood looking down on her, pleased that she was pleased with his humble offering.