The rain beat in her face and flicked her wet hair against it like the lash of a whip; but Susie felt nothing except the warm comfort of the little body behind her, saw nothing but the gleaming row of lights that marked the Parade. All her heart moved in one passionate cry, "If mother will only forgive me!" And then she realized, with a glow of happiness, that she had never really doubted it; that she had known quite well all the time that there would be no need for tears or protestations—mother would understand.
The stars came out and the leaping waves seemed to fall asleep, whilst Susie, with wide-awake eyes, settled herself for the interminable night. But nature is very kind to the remorseful sinner as well as to the happy and the innocent, and presently her head fell back against Dick's comfortable, cosy shoulder, and she too fell into a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER IX.
Meanwhile Tom and Mrs. Beauchamp had bought the sand-shoes and various other little necessaries, had had tea in an Oriental coffee shop, and, as the climax of a delightful afternoon, were coming home on the top of a tram—a leisurely proceeding that gave plenty of time for enjoyment. The weather had clouded over early in the afternoon, but they were halfway home before a fine rain began to fall and to blot out the shimmering sea. Just at sunset it cleared up for a little while, and a long path of gold stretched straight away to the horizon, showing the rocks and the island silhouetted very clear and black against a pale yellow sky.
"Mother," said Tom suddenly, "do the goats ever come down to drink?"
"What goats?"
"The goats on the island?"
"And do they drink what?"
"The sea."