Miss Adams was vexed when she saw them all fly off so, for she had not come with any intention of interrupting or teasing them. She was going out to ride, and had walked to the window of the hall above, to see if the horses were at the door, and there she had noticed the children at their play.
Bessie stood quietly behind her counter, while the rest ran about after Maggie. She looked more pale and languid than usual that afternoon, as she always did when she had been tired or excited. All the soft pink color which had come into her cheek since she had been at Quam Beach was quite gone; it was no wonder that grandma frowned and bit her lip to keep herself from saying sharp things when she looked at her darling that day.
Now, Miss Adams always said that she was afraid of nobody, and did not care what people said of her; but as she watched the delicate little child, who she knew had been brought by her parents to the sea-shore that she might gain health and strength, she felt sorry that she had plagued her so, and thought that she would like to make it up with her. She went into her room, put a large packet of sugar-plums into her pocket, and then went down stairs. She came up to Bessie just as the little girl reached the colonel's side, and, standing before her, said,—
"Well, Bessie, are you in a better humor yet?"
Bessie was certainly not pale now. A very bright color had come into her cheeks, as Miss Adams spoke to her, but she said nothing.
"Come," said Miss Adams, holding out the parcel, "here are some sugar-plums for you; come, kiss me and make up."
"I'll forgive you," said Bessie, gravely; "but I don't want the sugar-plums."
"Oh, yes, you do!" said Miss Adams; "come and kiss me for them."
"I don't kiss people for sugar-plums," said Bessie; "and I'm sure I don't want them."
"Then come and kiss me without the sugar-plums."