rather to say she had begun to acquire the ability to look on both sides of a question. It is true that she did not view all matters in this all-round fashion; she often preferred to be a little perverse and contrary. But in her secret heart she was less proud than formerly, both of perverseness and obstinacy.
Brenda was very fond of the sea-shore, where, as long as she could remember, she had been in the habit of spending at least five months of the year. But this was only her second season on the North Shore. Now if I should tell you the exact location of Rockley, you might respond that you know other places just as pretty,—at Beverly, at Manchester, at—but here I might interrupt you to say that just as patriotism obliges us to prefer our own country to every other, so custom leads us to prefer some one place to any other. Some people, to be sure, enjoy rambling from country to country, and others like to have glimpses of various summer resorts; but in the end each one thinks his own country the very best, and in her secret heart every girl believes some one spot—it may be seashore, it may be mountains—far lovelier than any other. Brenda, at first, had objected to leaving Cohasset; but one season at Rockley had reconciled her to the change. Now she had gone to the other extreme, in regarding Rockley—as her father’s house was called—as the prettiest place on the coast. It is true that she always enjoyed visiting Edith Blair at Manchester, or Frances Pounder at Nahant, or some of her other friends who had homes at Beverly and Pride’s Crossing, and the other lovely spots along the
