children live to grow up in Jamaica! O! let me hold her! let me carry her! I _must_!”

She was about to seize the infant in her arms, when the mother interposed.

“No, Miss Brandt, please, not this evening! She is but half awake, and has arrived at that age when she is frightened of strangers. Another time perhaps, when she has become used to you, but not now!”

“But I will be so careful of her, pretty dear!” persisted the girl, “I will nurse her so gently, that she will fall to sleep again in my arms. Come! my little love, come!” she continued to the baby, who pouted her lips and looked as if she were going to cry.

“Leave her alone!” exclaimed Elinor Leyton in a sharp voice. “Do you not hear what Mrs. Pullen says--that you are not to touch her!”

She spoke so acridly, that gentle Margaret Pullen felt grieved for the look of dismay that darted into Harriet Brandt’s face on hearing it.

“O! I am sorry--I didn’t mean--” she stammered, with a side glance at Margaret.

“Of course you did not mean anything but what was kind,” said Mrs. Pullen, “Miss Leyton perfectly understands that, and when baby is used to you, I daresay she will be very grateful for your attentions. But to-night she is sleepy and tired, and, perhaps, a little cross. Take her home, Nurse,” she went on, “and put her to bed! Good-night, my sweet!” and the perambulator passed them and was gone.

An awkward silence ensued between the three women after this little incident. Elinor Leyton walked somewhat apart from her companions, as if she wished to avoid all further controversy, whilst Margaret Pullen sought some way by which to atone for her friend’s rudeness to the young stranger. Presently they came across one of the _cafés chantants_ which are attached to the seaside hotels, and which was brilliantly lighted up. A large awning was spread outside, to shelter some dozens of chairs and tables, most of which were already occupied. The windows of the hotel salon had been thrown wide open, to accommodate some singers and musicians, who advanced in turn and stood on the threshold to amuse the audience. As they approached the scene, a tenor in evening dress was singing a love song, whilst the musicians accompanied his voice from the salon, and the occupants of the chairs were listening with rapt attention.

“How charming! how delightful!” cried Harriet Brandt, as they 

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