"You never let me sit in your pocket," she said at last crossly.
"My dear Susie"—mother shut her book with a very faint sigh—"there is not room for all of you on my lap. I should have to nurse an arm or a leg at a time."
"You could make room," said Susie.
"She would be like the donkey that wanted to be a lap-dog, wouldn't she, mother?" said Tom. "It sat upon its master's lap."
Every one laughed, except Susie.
"Well, I'm not a donkey," she said, "and I'm not a lap-dog; and, besides, you want to yourself."
"No, I don't," said Tom stoutly. "I hate to sit on any one's lap; if you are so anxious you can sit on nurse's."
Susie's eyes threatened to overflow.
"Oh, don't cry, Susie," said her mother, in alarm, "or I shall have to put up my umbrella. Go and build a castle with Tom, and take Amy. I trust her to you. Nurse and I must get the babies home."
Susie always rose to any demand made upon her, and was proud of being trusted. She gathered Dick's shells and seaweed and glittering stones skilfully into his pail, and was really helpful in rolling up the rugs and cushions. She was so pleased to see his rather thin, unsteady legs gathering strength as they wobbled slowly over the sand. When she put her arm round him, she was proud to feel that he really needed support. At the foot of the wooden steps leading up the cliff his mother took him in her arms. She was looking tired and pale, but she smiled very sweetly at Susie.