"Why can't you call things by their right names, and say 'conchology'?" asked Ernest quietly.
"Really, Julia, I don't think we must leave your cousin this evening," said Mrs. Woburn, doubtfully.
"Don't stay at home on my account, auntie," replied Ruth, putting aside her own feelings, though she did not much like the idea of spending the evening with Ernest, such a grave, quiet boy, so very different from her brothers.
Julia carried her point, and started in a few minutes for a walk with her mother and Rupert, leaving the cousins to their own resources. Ruth took a seat near the window, and watched the waves breaking gently upon the beach, while the boy appeared to be entirely occupied with his book. It was rather dull, this first evening away from home; it seemed scarcely possible that she had really only left Cressleigh that morning, and she began to wonder if they had missed her very much, and what they were doing now, and when she should see them all again, and as she thought of the months that must elapse first she heaved a weary sigh.
The sigh roused Ernest, who had quite forgotten his companion in the charms of his book, and he at once endeavoured to make amends for his neglect in his kind but awkward way.
"Oh! I beg your pardon," he began, "I almost forgot—do you like conchology?" he asked, by way of starting a conversation.
"I don't know anything about it," was Ruth's meek reply, "but I believe it is the science of shells, is it not?"
"Yes. I thought you wouldn't care for it. Girls never do."
"Perhaps I might learn," she said humbly; "but I haven't had a chance to study any 'ologies,' they did not teach them at Miss Green's. Are you studying it as a holiday task?"
"No, for amusement. They won't let me study in the holidays, but I enjoy this. Just look at these shells, aren't they beauties?" and he showed her one of the illustrations in his book.