"Philip says so."
"Mrs. Wishart isn't a fool."
And Tom was unable to overthrow this argument.
CHAPTER XII.
APPLEDORE.
It was a very bright, warm August day when Mrs. Wishart and her young companion steamed over from Portsmouth to the Isles of Shoals. It was Lois's first sight of the sea, for the journey from New York had been made by land; and the ocean, however still, was nothing but a most wonderful novelty to her. She wanted nothing, she could well-nigh attend to nothing, but the movements and developments of this vast and mysterious Presence of nature. Mrs. Wishart was amused and yet half provoked. There was no talk in Lois; nothing to be got out of her; hardly any attention to be had from her. She sat by the vessel's side and gazed, with a brow of grave awe and eyes of submissive admiration; rapt, absorbed, silent, and evidently glad. Mrs. Wishart was provoked at her, and envied her.
"What do you find in the water, Lois?"
"O, the wonder of it!" said the girl, with a breath of rapture.
"Wonder! what wonder? I suppose everything is wonderful, if you look at it. What do you see there that seems so very wonderful?"
"I don't know, Mrs. Wishart. It is so great! and it is so beautiful! and it is so awful!"