"Now, what shall we do for this girlie?" she enquired tenderly, as she endeavoured to improve Olive's dishevelled appearance, without much success, for both she and Monica were covered with sand, which no amount of rubbing would remove from their clothes. "Shall we drive to the coastguard station and get some tea; or will you have some lemonade and cake that was left from lunch, and get off home as quickly as we can? The waggonette is here."
All were unanimously of opinion that the second proposal was most to their taste, and in a very short time the party set off homewards, the horse, well knowing he had his head turned towards his stable, going at a brisk trot.
Olive, whom they made as comfortable as they could with cloaks and a large rug, seemed powerless to talk or exert herself in any way; indeed, her lethargic attitude somewhat alarmed Mrs. Drury, who felt she would be glad when Sandyshore was reached. But the motion of driving seemed to have a soporific effect upon the exhausted girl, and with her head on Elsa's shoulder she fell asleep, and did not awaken until the waggonette pulled up at Rocklands.
"Are you very angry with me, Mrs. Drury?" Monica asked penitently, during the homeward drive, for that lady had been very silent, and Monica could not but feel that she was displeased with their rashness, as indeed she was.
"Not more with you than the others, my dear," was the somewhat grave reply.
"If you will forgive me this time, Mrs. Drury, I hope I shall not go on being quite so troublesome to every one after this." Monica spoke with a quiet decision and earnestness unusual to her.
Mrs. Drury, who, of course, knew nothing of the new and unwonted thoughts passing through the mind of the girl beside her, was touched by her remark, but thought it would be a good place to say a word of caution.
"I daresay you do feel, now, as if you would not willingly cause trouble and anxiety to your friends by your thoughtlessness, just as present. But it is not enough to mean well, Monica; we always fail to keep our resolutions if we make them in our own strength."
Her eyes sought those of the girl who sat beside her, and something that she read in them told her what had happened, even before Monica diffidently whispered the good news.
The vicar's wife bent and kissed the earnest face, with glad tears in her eyes, as she murmured: "May God bless and keep you always, my child."