"No, mamma,” said Florence, “there never eould be a nicer place, or nicer people anywhere." Mr Elwyn laughed, and said, “Tell me, Florence, about these nice people who you were so sorry to leave. Were there any little girls and boys of your own age?" "Not many," said Florence, "but there was Granny Davies, such a beautiful old woman, who had a sailor son who wore ear-rings, and gave his mother a glass rolling-pin, a great deal too pretty to use, so she hangs it up in her parlour; and there, most of all, was dear old 'Crabby,' my greatest friend, who used to make boats for me, and tell me such delightful stories." "Who is old Crabby?" said Mr Elwyn. "Such a dear old man, and so dirty," said Florence. "Well, I can't say that that is a good reason for liking him," said Mr Elwyn, laughing. "I assure you, 'Crabby' and Florence were such friends, that I got quite jealous," said Mrs Marchmont; "Florence used to be distressed if I let him go without buying some of his crabs and lobsters, and I believe if I had stayed longer I should have seriously injured my digestion from eating shell-fish entirely to please her." "I have just been talking about the seaside to a poor little cripple child here,” said Miss Elwyn, "and I should be so glad, if it could be managed, to get her taken to a nice lodging in some quiet place." "Do you mean Lucy Harding?" said Mr Elwyn. "Yes, the doctor thinks she might be moved now in an invalid carriage, and I feel sure a breath of sea air would do her good." "If you want to know of a nice lodging for the class of person you are speaking of, I am sure I can recommend Florence's friend, Granny Davies," said Mrs Marchmont, "she is a most respectable person, and a capital nurse. She was telling me, the other day, that her sailor son has taken this house for her on condition that she does not go out nursing any more, as he thinks she ought to end her days comfortably, and she says that when he is at sea she finds the time hang very heavy on her hands, and she has often thought of taking lodgers by way of giving her some interest. She would be just the very person to send the sick girl to, as she is such a good nurse." "Really I think that sounds very promising," said Miss Elwyn, "and I am much obliged to you for mentioning it. I know Harding is anxious his child should have sea air, and will not grudge the expense; so I will write to him to-day on the subject." The arrangements with Granny Davies were soon concluded, as Harding wrote most gratefully in answer to Miss Elwyn's letter, and begged her and Mrs Baker between them to settle everything as they thought best. The very idea of going to the sea-side seemed to revive Lucy, and when Florence Marchmont went with her mamma and Miss Elwyn to see her, and told her stories of Granny Davies and her sailor son, she longed for the journey, which she had at first dreaded, and counted the days till she should herself see all the wonders of which Florence spoke with such rapture. "Mind you give my love to dear old 'Crabby,'" said Florence, as she ran after her mamma to the carriage. The preparations were soon made for the journey, as all agreed that it would not do to let the bright autumn days go by before the move was made. Mr and Miss Elwyn, wishing to pay a visit to some friends in the neighbourhood of Beachport, thought it would be a good plan to arrange their journey so as to enable them to travel at the same time with Kate and Lucy, thereby saving both Mrs Baker and Harding much anxiety. The invalid carriage was very comfortable, and Lucy, though tired and exhausted on her arrival, soon revived under the influence of the fresh sea air, and Granny Davies' nursing. When Miss Elwyn paid them a visit before she went home at the end of the week, she was much struck with the improvement in the little invalid, who told her that old "Crabby's" stories were nearly as amusing as Martin Bourke's, and that Florence had been right in saying that he was very dirty. Miss Elwyn went away quite comforted about Lucy, when she saw how much good the change of air was doing her, and she was able to take a good report of both the girls to Farmer Baker and his wife. CHAPTER XIII THE WHOLE ARMOUR OF GOD "Oh, say not thou art left of God, Because His tokens in the sky Thou canst not read; this earth He trod HE first piece of news that Mr Elwyn THE heard on his return from the sea-side, was that Long John was seriously ill. He had never recovered from the state of nervous agitation into which he had been thrown by Alfred's bell-ringing adventure, and now he had taken to his bed, and was really laid up with a feverish attack. The vicar hastened to his cottage, and found Jessie Carter in great distress, and her husband very ill in bed. "I am sorry to find you so ill, John," said Mr Elwyn, as he stood by the bed-side. John made an impatient movement, and |