Page 109 of The Seaside Homecoming
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The study of Shells is a branch of Natural History not greatly useful in human economy, yet by the infinite beauties of [its] subjects...leads the amazed admirer into the contemplation of the glory of the Divinity in their creation.
—Emanuel Mendes da Costa,Elements of Conchology
Sarah walked from the library-office through the hall, tidying as she went. She picked up a pair of discarded shoes from beside the door, as well as a fallen glove, and placed them in the closet.
She heard music coming from the parlour—someone playing the pianoforte. The musician was too skilled to be either Georgiana or Emily. Had Viola come over? Sarah went to investigate.
Instead she found one of their guests, Miss Craven, playing while her sister sat nearby with a cup of tea.
Seeing Sarah in the doorway, Mrs. Harding asked, “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all. It’s a pleasure to hear. The instrument is played far too rarely now my sister Viola has moved next door.”
“Persephone is quite accomplished,” the older sister said with almost maternal pride.
Sarah could relate and offered a smile. “Yes. Clearly.”
While she was in the room, Sarah neatly stacked a cluttered pile of newspapers and another of magazines.
Miss Craven turned a page of music and began another song.
“Oh, I know this one.” Mrs. Harding set down her teacup and rose, coming to stand beside her sister at the piano bench.
After the introductory bars, she began to sing,
“O where and O where does your highland laddie dwell;
O where and O where does your highland laddie dwell;
He dwells in merry Scotland where the bluebells sweetly smell,
And all in my heart I love my laddie well...”
Sarah turned and abruptly left the room. She retreated belowstairs and busied herself gathering a basket of pastries, bread, and a fresh pot of currant jam. Georgiana came in as she did so, a ruby smear beside her mouth. She’d clearly been sampling the new batch.
“Good jam?”
“Hm? How did you...?”
Sarah pointed to the spot beside her own mouth.
“Oh.” Georgie’s tongue darted to lick off the smear. Then she asked, “Going to the poor house?”
Sarah nodded. “Would you like to go with me?”
“I’ll walk with you. I want to go to the school again and see Cora.”
“You don’t fool me,” Sarah teased. “I know you want to join their daily game.”
Georgie grinned. “That too.”
Together the two sisters walked from Sea View down tothe beach. The town stray, Chips, trotted along at Georgie’s side, as he often did.
They waved to Mr. Cordey and Bibi, a local fisherman and his daughter, who were busy beside their small cottage, taking down lines of split mackerel they’d smoked near a fire.
Chips bounded over to sniff out a snack.
