4 THE HALL OP SHELLS. 



Almost before her sentence was finislied, 

 Tom, wIlo spied a stranger working a dip net 

 down the beach, with true boyish instinct had 

 sped away to the scene of interest. 



Still Miss Bremely mused in the hazy sun- 

 shine, the water lapping lightly against the 

 rock upon which she sat. Bending over its 

 ledge she gathered tangles of sea kelp the 

 waves laid at her feet. 



"Thank you, dear old Sea," she said; "you 

 are gentle and sing like a siren to-day ; to-mor- 

 row you may roar like an army of Titans. 

 Ah, well, your calms and silvery tides are all 

 the dearer to us because of your depths we 

 can not fathom, your ^storms we can not 

 quell." 



Kneeling upon the sand she bent her head 

 until the incoming waves touched her forehead 

 with their crystal chrism, then rising she took 

 her hamper of shells and started along an as- 

 cending pathway to a cottage not far distant 

 among acacia trees. The cottage was her 

 home. Turning from its main entrance she 

 chose a winding flight of steps leading to a 

 small balcony. There she paused before an 

 open door and a childish voice greeted her 

 with, "O Cousin Ellen, you look like a mer- 

 maid ! " 



