The measure of Maggie's content was full when she followed the old lady up stairs and saw the two neat, small, white beds intended for Bessie and herself.
"Bessie," she said, a little later, "don't you think this place is nicer than Quam Beach?"
They were standing together in the lower hall, looking out upon the lake, while the rays of the setting sun came flickering through the vine leaves, and dancing over the two little figures standing in the doorway, as if it were bidding them a friendly good night, and giving them a promise of a fair day for tomorrow's rambles.
"I think it is very nice," answered Bessie.
"But don't you think it nicer than Quam, Bessie?"
"No, Maggie, for the sea is not here."
"But the lake is," said Maggie.
"But the lake is not the sea," said Bessie.
Maggie could not contradict this, but she did not feel satisfied that Bessie should not be as well pleased as she was herself, and she said wistfully,—
"But don't you think you could be a little contented here, Bessie?"