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.

"Oh! how beautiful!" she exclaimed; and the boy, seeing she was