Troublesome Comforts | Page 3

hand tucked under his cheek. He looked a darling;
but Susie frowned and looked away. Amy was sitting "in mother's
pocket"--that was what nurse called it--and Susie felt unreasonably
vexed. Dick and Tommy were leaning out of the window buying
buns--Tommy was paying. They were at a station, and there were heaps
of buns. Susie saw the cross mouth in the reflection quiver and close

tightly; the brown eyes blinked--she almost thought the Susie in the
reflection was going to cry.
"Nobody cares," she said to herself miserably. "Mother doesn't care;
she loves Amy and Alick more than me. The boys hate me; they will
eat all the buns, and I shall die of hunger. I wish--"
"Susie," said mother's voice, "the children are stifling me. Come and
have tea; we have bought such a lot of buns. Will you help me put baby
down in your corner? and you might give him your jacket for a pillow."
Susie could see nothing, but she kept her eyes on the reflection in the
window, with a fascinated stare.
"Susie, I want you," said her mother gently.
In a minute Susie had swept the tears away with her sleeve, and had
launched herself across the rocking carriage, and flung her arms round
her mother's neck.
"Gently, gently, darling," said mother, smiling. "I haven't got a
hand--Alick is holding it so fast--but I missed you, Susie. There is
something there, outside, that I wanted to be the first to show you."
Susie, still rather subdued, leant as far out of the window as the bars
allowed, and let the wind from the engine blow the curls about her face.
Away, far on the horizon, was a silver line, as straight as if it had been
ruled with a ruler, and a shining white speck showed against the yellow
evening sky.
"What is it?" said Susie, breathlessly.
"It is the sea," her mother told her, "and the white sails of the ships are
going out with the tide."
"Mother, I mean never to be naughty again," said Susie suddenly; "only
I know that to-morrow I shall forget, and be as horrid as I was to-day."
Susie was tired, and more tears seemed imminent. The train was

slowing down, and the screeching of the engine almost drowned her
voice.
"Pick up the parcels, and be quite ready to jump out," said Mrs.
Beauchamp hastily. "Susie, you must not grow perfect too suddenly; I
shouldn't know you!"
CHAPTER III.
The next day was radiantly beautiful, and Susie started well. Directly
after breakfast the four elder ones trooped down to the sands with
spades and buckets, whilst Alick, left alone with nurse, waved his
good-byes from the balcony. Mrs. Beauchamp looked after them a little
anxiously; but Susie in her best mood was so very trustworthy that she
smoothed the anxious line out of her forehead, and turned back with a
restful sigh to the empty room and the silence.
And out on the beach things went swimmingly. They made sand castles
and moats, and the rising tide flowed in just as they wished it to. Like
another Canute, Tom flung defiance to the waves, and shouted himself
hoarse; and then, to his immense surprise, the little ripples swept
smoothly back, and left a crumbled castle, and white foamy ridges that
looked like soap.
"Come on, Susie," he said; "it's no fun when there's no water in it. Let's
go over to the rocks and look for insects."
"No; let's stay here," said Susie. "I like watching the ships and the
steamers."
"Fudge," said Tom.
"The rocks are awfully jolly, Sue," said Dickie.
But Susie shook her shoulders, and gazed straight before her. "I'm not
going," she said.
"Very well; we jolly well prefer your room to your company," said

Tom.--"Come on, Dick."
Susie was sitting on the ruins of the castle, with her knees drawn up
and her elbows planted on them. She really was not listening to Tom a
bit, for her fascinated eyes were fixed on the line of silver sea, on
which the passing steamers rose and fell. Far away at the back of her
mind was the consciousness that Tom was going to be naughty, and
that she might prevent it; but she pushed her fingers into her ears, and
gazed straight before her.
It was Amy tugging at her dress that made her turn reluctantly at last.
"Tom is calling you, Susie," she said.
"Oh, bother!" said Susie. "You can go and see what he wants."
Amy obediently struggled over the heavy sand to the fine strip of
pebbles on which the boys were disporting themselves. Their boots
were wet through; their shrill voices pierced Susie's poor defences.
"Susie--Susie--Susie!"
But Susie did not move.
All the same, she knew perfectly well that Amy was