"Quite true, quite true," assented the Admiral with a groan. "We must look the fellow up, and at once. Bless me! To think that all this trouble came about through a child asking me to finish a letter to her father. If I could lay my hands upon that youngster at this moment I'd—I'd——"

"You'd probably romp with her as pleasantly as if nothing had occurred."

"Yes, probably."

Trixy would have been glad of some one to romp with at that moment, for she was very unhappy. Her mother seemed utterly wretched; at other times when Trif was troubled in mind, Trixy had been quick to note it and to be very affectionate, and had been so successful as to be called her mamma's greatest comfort. Fenie, too, was miserable, for Trif had told her what was in the missing letter, and Fenie was sure that if the letter itself fell into improper hands, and Kate should hear about it, and learn who was the writer, there would be another danger of coolness between the two families, for Kate was too proud to endure any interference with her own affairs. Fenie had her own reasons for objecting to any such trouble, for she was very happy with Harry; there had been no talk of love, but none was necessary. Young people have ways of understanding each other quite independently of words; do not even deaf mutes fall in love?

Now, however, even Fenie's pleasant chats with Harry might have to be suspended, for Trif was in such abject fear and mortification that she would scarcely leave her room, and Fenie did not like to appear entirely unattended and unwatched by her sister. No one would talk if she were seen with Kate and Harry together, but Fenie herself, like Trif, had imagined all sorts of possible and impossible ways by which that dreadful letter, or some garbled report of it, might reach Kate.

So, the sisters sat in their room, and feared, and felt like a couple of criminals to whom the worst might happen. They exchanged forebodings, all of which were overheard by Trixy, who received a reproachful look with each, and did quite a lot of silent weeping on her own account, and neither her mother nor her aunt dried her eyes with kisses, as they usually did at home after she had done something wrong, and repented.

But the kind power that looks after children and fools came finally to Trixy's relief, for Trif suddenly said:

"Surely the mail is distributed by this time, and I can have at least the consolation of a letter from dear Phil. Trixy, go down to the office and ask for letters for our room."

Trixy flew away like a bird from an opened cage, and no sooner did she reach the lower floor than she dashed through one of the exits to the beach. How delicious the sunlight was, after part of a morning in a half-darkened room!—the child felt as if she were bathing in it. And the beach, too, with its long edging of smooth, hard sand,—she must have just one run on it, from pier to pier, and back again.