THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 MABEL R. GILLIS
 
 i
 
 r
 
 CRICKET WENT TO THE WINDOW AND 
 PEEPED OUT "
 
 CRICKET AT THE 
 SEASHORE 
 
 BY 
 
 ELIZABETH WESTYN TIMLOW 
 
 AUTHOR OF " CRICKET : A STORY FOR LITTLE GIRLS 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 HARRIET ROOSEVELT RICHARDS 
 
 BOSTON 
 ESTES AND LAURIAT 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1896 
 BY ESTES & LAURIAT 
 
 Colonial $ress: 
 
 C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, Mass.,. U- S. A.
 
 fzl 
 
 TO 
 
 577432
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. OLD BILLY 11 
 
 II. A BROKEN WHEEL .... 21 
 
 III. CRICKET'S DISCOVERY .... 33 
 
 IV. KEEPING STORE 45 
 
 V. A BATH IN CURDS AND WHEY . .61 
 
 VI. BEAR ISLAND 79 
 
 VII. THE EXILES 101 
 
 Vm. A NEW PLASTER 117 
 
 IX. GEORGE W. AND MARTHA . . .132 
 
 X. THE ECHO CLUB 147 
 
 XI. THE "ECHO" 165 
 
 XII. THE HAIRS OF His HEAD . . .180 
 
 XIII. A WRESTLING MATCH .... 192 
 
 XIV. PLAYING NURSE 204 
 
 XV. A KNITTING -BEE 213 
 
 XVI. Two LITTLE RUNAWAYS . . .223 
 
 XVII. HILDA ARRIVES 237 
 
 XVIII. A SAILING PARTY . . . .251 
 
 XIX. BECALMED 267
 
 6 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XX. A NEW HIDING-PLACE 
 
 XXI. BILLY'S PRAYER .... 
 
 XXII. HELEN'S TEXT 323 
 
 XXIII. THE JABBERWOCK .... 333 
 
 XXIV. AFTER THE SACRIFICE .... 344 
 XXV. THE END OF THE SUMMER . . . 359
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " CRICKET WENT TO THE WINDOW AND PEEPED 
 
 OUT "...... Frontispiece 
 
 OLD BILLY TELLS His STORY TO THE TWINS . 31 
 LANDING ON BEAR ISLAND . . . .87 
 THE EXILES 99 
 
 FEEDING GEORGE WASHINGTON. " CRICKET 
 
 BORE OFF HER CHARGE TO THE KITCHEN" 137 
 
 " SHE BURIED HERSELF IN HER NEXT STORY 
 
 FOR 'THE ECHO'" 205 
 
 HILDA'S ARRIVAL ...... 235 
 
 "CRICKET SAT DOWN ON THE BEACH WITH 
 
 THE CHILDREN " . 293
 
 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE
 
 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OLD BILLY. 
 
 THE summer at Marbury had begun. On the 
 20th of June, after seeing the Europe -bound 
 party off for New York, the Ward children had 
 arrived, bag and baggage, under Auntie Jean's 
 escort. 
 
 Early the first morning after their arrival, 
 Cricket awoke Eunice with a punch. 
 
 " Eunice, what do you think I am going to do 
 to-day ? and I 'm going to do it every day till I 
 succeed." 
 
 "Don't know, I'm sure," said Eunice, 
 sleepily. " Don't tumble round so. It is n't 
 time to get up." 
 
 " Oh, you 're such a lazybones," sighed 
 Cricket, whose light, active frame required less 
 sleep than Eunice's heavier build. " It 's six 
 o'clock, for the clock just struck. Now I '11 tell
 
 12 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 you what I want to do. Let 's dig in the sand- 
 banks every day, and see if we can't find mam- 
 ma's money-bag, that she and auntie buried 
 there so long ago." 
 
 " All right, and let 's search in the cove for 
 the little turquoise ring you lost two years ago, 
 in bathing," answered Eunice, still sleepily, but 
 with much sarcasm. 
 
 " Now, Eunice, you need n't come out with 
 any of your sarcastic sinuates," said Cricket, 
 tossing her curly head, "/'w going to do it 
 anyway, and I 'm going to find it. I feel it in 
 my bones, as 'Liza says, and I 'm going to begin 
 straight after breakfast, if we don't do anything 
 else. Don't tell any one, for I want to surprise 
 everybody." 
 
 " 1 think you 're safe to do it, if you want to. 
 I won't tell. Wonder if they've sailed yet," 
 with a thought of the travellers. 
 
 "The steamer doesn't sail till eleven; don't 
 you remember ? Prob'ly they 're just getting up. 
 Come, Eunice, get up. I hear the boys, now." 
 
 Cricket scrambled out of bed and ran to the 
 window to peep out. 
 
 " There they go now for their swim. Boys ! 
 Boys ! wait for me ! " and Cricket dropped into
 
 OLD BILLY. 13 
 
 her bathing - suit, which had been put out all 
 ready the night before, and flew down-stairs to 
 join the boys in their morning plunge in the 
 sea, her bare arms gleaming from the dark-blue 
 of her suit, and bathing - shoes protecting her 
 feet from the sharp stones in the rough lane that 
 led to the cove. 
 
 They had a glorious swim. At least, Will 
 and Archie swam, and Cricket splashed under 
 their directions. She had almost learned to 
 swim the last time that she had been at Marbury 
 in the summer - time, two years before, and she 
 could already float nicely and go " dog-paddle," 
 but she had great difficulty in making any head- 
 way in swimming. 
 
 " There ! " she sputtered, in triumph, at last, 
 clinging hold of the swimming-raft ; " I almost 
 got away from the place where I was, then." 
 She turned over on her back to rest herself, and 
 float for a moment, then prepared for another 
 start. 
 
 " I don't seem to wiggle my feet right. I get 
 so destracted thinking of my hands, that I al- 
 ways forget to kick. I can't keep my mind in 
 two places at once." 
 
 " Now try again," said Will, good-naturedly.
 
 14 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " See here. Draw up your feet as you bring 
 your hands together and kick hard, when you 
 throw them out. Go just like a frog. That 's 
 fine. Now again. Draw up, kick out, draw 
 up, kick out fine ! " and Cricket, sputtering 
 and laughing, drew herself up on the swimming- 
 raft, having really swum two feet. And then it 
 was time to go out. 
 
 The cove was some little distance from the 
 house, so, after scampering up the lane, their 
 bathing - suits were almost dry. There were 
 bathing - houses down there, but for this early 
 morning dip they liked better to get into their 
 bathing-suits at the house, and dress there. 
 
 When Cricket flew up -stairs into her room, 
 glowing and rosy, she found Eunice only partly 
 dressed, with the sleep not half out of her 
 drowsy eyes. 
 
 " Oh, you lazy thing ! " cried Cricket, retir- 
 ing behind the screen. " You don't know how 
 fine I feel. My skin is all little prickles." 
 
 " I should n't think that would be very com- 
 fortable," said Eunice, brushing out her long, 
 dark hair, and braiding it. I like to sleep in 
 the morning better than you do, anyway. Did 
 you dive for mamma's money-bag ? "
 
 OLD BILLY. 15 
 
 "You needn't laugh at me," said Cricket, 
 emerging, half - dressed already. " I mean to 
 find it. You '11 see." But she inwardly regis- 
 tered a vow that she would pursue her search 
 alone. 
 
 The Ward children had never spent much 
 time at Marbury, with grandma, since they had 
 their own summer home at Kayuna, in East 
 Wellsboro. They had often been there for short 
 visits, however, as mamma generally took one or 
 another of her little flock with her, in her fre- 
 quent trips to see grandma. 
 
 Marbury lies in Marbury Bay, which is very 
 large, but so shallow that at low tide the mud- 
 flats are all exposed for a long distance out. A 
 long tongue of land, principally sand -banks, 
 stretches half around the bay, making a break- 
 water from the ocean, and rendering the harbour 
 a very safe one for sailing. Will and Archie 
 Somers were capital sailors, inheriting their 
 grandfather's love of the sea. Back of the 
 house, over a short, steep hill, lay the beginning 
 of the sand -banks, where mamma and auntie 
 had buried their money-bags long ago. Then 
 beyond these sand-banks, on the ocean-side, was 
 another deep small curve, called the cove, where
 
 16 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 the children bathed. It was a safe, sheltered 
 spot, with a good bit of beach. Altogether, Mar- 
 bury had many attractions. 
 
 What chattering and gabbling there was that 
 first morning at breakfast, when all sorts of 
 plans were projected for the summer's amuse- 
 ment ! Mrs. Somers and her children had spent 
 most of the warm weather at Marbury, for years, 
 so that Will, and Archie, and Edna knew every 
 inch of the country for miles around, and were 
 eager to do the honours. 
 
 "'Wot larks' we're going to have," cried 
 Archie, as they all got up from the table. 
 " Think of it, grandma ! all summer ! whoop ! " 
 with a shout, as he vanished, that made grandma 
 cover her deafened ears in dismay, as the whole 
 flock trooped after. 
 
 " Dear me ! mother," said Mrs. Somers, pri- 
 vately, as they stood together on the piazza, " I 
 begin to think that we 've undertaken a great 
 deal, to keep this horde in order for a whole 
 season. Can you ever stand it in the world ? I 
 scarcely realized that there would be eight of 
 them." 
 
 "We'll manage beautifully," said grandma, 
 cheerily. "The boys go to their camp for a
 
 OLD BILLY. 17 
 
 month, you know, and the little girls will soon 
 settle down." 
 
 " Yes, and Edna will have to spend two weeks 
 with her Grandmother Somers, at Lake Clear, 
 as usual, and as for the twins, Eliza manages 
 them really beautifully, and Kenneth is no more 
 trouble than a kitten. Eunice and Cricket are 
 used to running pretty wild all summer. If the 
 confusion is not too much for you, that's all 
 I 'm thinking of." 
 
 " And I 'm on special police duty," broke in 
 Arthur, popping up from behind the vines. 
 " I '11 chuck the baddest ones overboard any time 
 you say." 
 
 " And there 's old Billy for special guard 
 duty," added auntie, laughing. " See him now, 
 poor old fellow ! he does n't know whether he 's 
 scared out of his few wits, or whether he likes 
 the commotion." 
 
 Grandma followed auntie's glance. 
 
 " He likes it," she said, " for see, he' s bring- 
 ing out his music -box, and that's the highest 
 honour he can pay any one." 
 
 I must stop right here and tell you about old 
 Billy, for he was a life-long institution at grand- 
 ma's. I wish I could make you see the dear
 
 18 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 old fellow as I see Mm now, in my mind's eye. 
 A tall, thin, bent old man he was, not much 
 over fifty, in reality, though he looked seventy. 
 A shock of rough gray hair stood out all over 
 his head, and a gray, tousled - looking beard 
 covered half his face. A pair of keen, startled- 
 looking eyes flashed sharp, observant glances 
 this way and that, from under his shaggy eye- 
 brows. Few words he had on any occasions, 
 but he generally spoke straight to the point. 
 
 A sad story had poor old Billy. He had been 
 a bright lad in a neighbouring village, and, when 
 he was about eighteen, had come to work for 
 Captain Maxwell. He was very faithful and 
 responsible, and soon became a fixture on the 
 place. Then poor Billy one day got a terrible 
 fall in the barn, and was taken up for dead. 
 However, he was not dead, only unconscious, 
 and terribly hurt. He had a long and severe 
 illness, during which Mrs. Maxwell had him 
 carefully nursed and cared for in her own home. 
 
 At length he recovered, but, alas! his poor 
 mind was hopelessly affected, and the doctor said 
 that, though he might be much better, he would 
 never be quite right again. Everybody thought 
 they ought to send him to the poorhouse, as he
 
 OLD BILLY. 19 
 
 had no home to be sent to, but Captain Maxwell 
 refused to do this. So he stayed on, and, grad- 
 ually, as he grew stronger, he took up some 
 simple duties again. However, he had forgotten 
 everything, even how to read. 
 
 But he was very happy in his dim way, for he 
 did not realize all that had happened to him. 
 So several years passed, when suddenly a law- 
 yer's letter was received, stating that William 
 Ruggles was heir to a large amount of money 
 from a brother who had gone West many years 
 before and had never been heard of since. He 
 had died leaving no family, and no other heir 
 than Billy. 
 
 Of course there was a great deal of trouble- 
 some law business to be adjusted, but the end of 
 it was that, a few months later, Billy was in 
 possession of a small fortune. The next ques- 
 tion was, what to do with him. He could not 
 stay on as a servant at the Maxwells, and he 
 was entirely unable to take care of himself. 
 Captain Maxwell had been appointed his guard- 
 ian, and trustee of his property. There chanced 
 to be a small unused building, once an office, on 
 the grounds, and this was easily changed into a 
 suitable abode for Billy. He had his little sit-
 
 20 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 ting-room, bedroom, and kitchen, and some one 
 to take care of it and of him, and here lived 
 Billy, as happy as a king. When Captain Max- 
 well died, Mrs. Maxwell took Billy as one of her 
 legacies, and here he probably would end his 
 days. 
 
 It was hard at first to make him understand 
 that he need not do any more work, and yet 
 could have what he called his "pay," just the 
 same, for it was useless to tell him about his 
 property. His allowance had to be a small one, 
 for it was soon found that generous Billy emp- 
 tied his pockets on all occasions to any one 
 asking. So his allowance was limited to twenty- 
 five cents a week in his own hands, but the 
 spending of his " dollar," as he always called his 
 quarter, gave him quite as much pleasure as if 
 it had been hundreds. He always spent this for 
 tobacco and peppermint candy, his two luxuries. 
 
 Mrs. Ward and Mrs. Somers had been little 
 girls of ten and twelve when Billy first came 
 there, and all through their childhood he had 
 been their devoted slave, for the poor soul was 
 patience and fidelity itself. And to the second 
 generation, old Billy was as much part of the 
 landscape as the bay itself.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A BROKEN WHEEL. 
 
 " LET 's take a ride, the very first thing we 
 do," said Eunice, eagerly, after breakfast. " I 'm 
 wild to get behind Mopsie and Charcoal again," 
 for the ponies had been sent over from East 
 Wellsboro for the children's use. 
 
 " 1 'm going to " began Cricket, and then she 
 stopped, remembering that she was going to 
 surprise the family with what she felt sure 
 would be the result of her mining explorations, 
 the finding of mamma's long - buried money- 
 bag. But then, she could dig any time, she 
 reflected. 
 
 So Luke, the man, brought up the ponies, 
 harnessed to the little cart, that was getting to 
 be close quarters for Eunice and Cricket, to say 
 nothing of Edna. 
 
 " Dearest old Charcoal ! " said Eunice, caress- 
 ing her pony, as he rubbed his affectionate 
 head against her shoulder, expecting sugar ; 
 "isn't it lovely to have him again ! But, 
 Cricket, don't you think he is really getting
 
 22 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 smaller all the time ? Last summer his head 
 came above my shoulder, and look at him now ! " 
 
 " Does it occur to you that your shoulder may 
 be growing above his head ? " suggested Auntie 
 Jean, laughing. " Unless you put a brick on 
 your head, I am sadly afraid that you would n't 
 be able to ride Charcoal next summer." 
 
 " When Eunice and Cricket are big ladies, 
 Helen and I are going to have the ponies. Papa 
 said so," piped up Zaidee. 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Cricket, mournfully. " I 
 wish I could take a tuck in my legs. I don't 
 want them to get so long that I can't ride 
 Mopsie. Get in, girls. Hello, Billy! If we 
 had any room, we 'd take you, too." 
 
 Billy grinned. 
 
 " Old Billy can walk as fast as them little 
 tikes can run," he said, with scorn. 
 
 " All right, then, you come, too," said Edna, 
 jumping into the cart ; " you jog along behind. 
 Don't you want to ? " And off started the little 
 cavalcade, with Cricket driving, because she was 
 the smallest, and could perch up on the others' 
 knees, while old Billy, all beam, jogged after, 
 making almost as good time, with his long legs 
 and shambling gait, as the ponies.
 
 A BROKEN WHEEL. 23 
 
 Back of Marbury there are miles of level 
 roads, almost free of underbrush, intersected in 
 every direction with roads and lanes, and one 
 can drive for hours without leaving the shelter 
 of the stately forest trees. 
 
 They had been riding for an hour or more, 
 laughing and singing, and shouting sometimes, 
 since there was no one to be disturbed, when 
 suddenly one wheel went over a big stone, which 
 Cricket, in glancing back to see if Billy were in 
 sight, did not notice and turn out for. 
 
 " Look out, Cricket ! " warned Eunice, but too 
 late. Thump came down the wheel and crack 
 went something, and in a twinkling down came 
 one side of the cart, while the wheel lay on the 
 ground. The well -trained little ponies stood 
 still at the first " whoa ! " and the children were 
 out in a flash. 
 
 They looked at each other in dismay. How 
 should they get the cart home again with only 
 one wheel ? 
 
 " And we must be twenty miles from home," 
 said Eunice, soberly. 
 
 " Oh, no, we 're not," said Edna, for as she 
 usually spent her summers at Marbury, she 
 knew this country-side well. " Only two or
 
 24 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 three miles, that's all. You see we've been 
 driving around so much that it seems longer, 
 but it 's not really far. This lane leads out on 
 to the Bainbridge road, by the old Ellison Place, 
 and that 's only two miles from home. But, 
 after all, nobody may come along here for hours 
 to help us about the cart." 
 
 Just then old Billy came lumbering up around 
 the curve behind them. 
 
 " Sho, now ! " he said, surveying the wreck. 
 " Wheel 's come off." 
 
 " Exactly so, Billy. Now the question is, 
 can we get it on ? " returned Eunice. 
 
 But something was broken, and getting it on 
 proved impossible. 
 
 " Billy carry the cart," suggested that indi- 
 vidual, who had a high opinion of his own 
 strength. 
 
 "Well, hardly, Billy, but, oh, I have an 
 idea ! Billy, you hold up the cart on that side, 
 so it will run on the other wheel as the ponies 
 draw it, and Cricket can lead them, and Edna 
 and I will roll the wheel along. You said it 
 wasn't far, Edna." 
 
 Billy lifted the side of the cart, obediently, 
 while Cricket started the ponies forward. This
 
 A BROKEN WHEEL. 25 
 
 worked very well. Then Edna and Eunice 
 armed themselves with sticks and found that 
 their new variety of wheel rolled in fine style, 
 with a little persuasion. 
 
 " What a come down," laughed Eunice, " We 
 start out in state, and we come back on foot." 
 
 " Let 's play we 're a triumphant procession," 
 instantly suggested Cricket, the fertile of re- 
 source. " I '11 be the emperor, what was his 
 name ? The one that conquered Zenobia. I '11 
 be that one, and Billy is one of my slaves, a 
 captive of war, and you can be Zenobia, Eunice, 
 and you're her daughter, Edna, coming into 
 Rome at the head of my procession after you 're 
 conquered. You go ahead singing * Hail to the 
 Chief.' That's it; march along like that. 
 Now don't go too fast. I really ought to be 
 riding in the cart, but I 'm afraid Billy could n't 
 hold me up, so I '11 play I 'm tired of riding in 
 state. Play we haven't come into the city 
 yet."' 
 
 " I can't think how ' Hail to the Chief ' goes," 
 said Eunice, after one or two attempts at the 
 tune. " I keep getting into ' Hail Columbia 
 happy land.'" 
 
 "That won't do, for this is Rome and not
 
 26 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Columbia we're coming to. This is the way 
 that ' Hail to the Chief ' goes," and Cricket 
 sang the first line. 
 
 Now Cricket, alas, was, unfortunately, abso- 
 lutely devoid of voice to sing. She loved music 
 dearly, but she could not keep to a tune to save 
 her life. Like a certain modern heroine, she 
 could not even keep the shape of the tune. 
 Consequently, unless the girls had known the 
 words, they could not have told whether she was 
 singing " Old Hundred," or " Tommy, make 
 room for your uncle." 
 
 Edna and Eunice almost doubled up with 
 laughter. Edna sang like a little woodthrush, 
 and Eunice also had a sweet and tuneful 
 voice. 
 
 "Oh, Cricket, you'll kill me," gasped Edna. 
 " Your voice goes up when it should go down, 
 and down when you ought to go up, and the rest 
 0f the time you go straight along." 
 
 Cricket looked injured, for, strange to say, 
 she was sensitive on the subject. She loved 
 music so dearly, that she never could understand 
 why she could n't make the sounds she wished 
 come out of her little round throat. 
 
 " I never pretended that I thought I could be
 
 A BROKEN WHEEL. 27 
 
 singeress to the President," she remarked, with 
 dignity. "Anyway, if I'm emperor, I have 
 people to sing for me. Begin, Zenobia." 
 
 " I don't know ' Hail to the Chief,' " said Edna. 
 " Let 's sing ' Highland Laddie ' I love that," 
 and Edna piped up in a gay little voice, that 
 startled the birds overhead, and presently at- 
 tracted the attention of two prowlers, who were 
 getting birds' eggs for their collection. 
 
 " The kids have had an accident," said one of 
 them, peering through the trees. " Hi ! there ! " 
 
 " There are the boys," said Eunice, as the " tri- 
 umphant procession " halted at the voice. " Come 
 and help us," she called. 
 
 " No, we don't want any help," said Edna, mov- 
 ing on, " and boys are such a bother. Don't call 
 them." But the boys needed no calling, and so 
 she added, with decision, " You can't come with 
 us unless you behave yourselves." 
 
 " We 're a triumphant procession," explained 
 Cricket, " and you must go behind and be slaves. 
 I'm the emperor that captured Zenobia, and 
 Edna and Eunice are Zenobia and her daughter. 
 They 're to march in front, singing, and Billy is 
 one of my captives who carries my chariot because 
 the wheel came off, and these are my elephants
 
 28 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 that draw it. Ho, there, base minion ! are you 
 tired ? " for Billy was grunting a little under his 
 burden. 
 
 " Guess one of them boys better spell old Billy 
 a little," suggested the slave, putting down his 
 side of the chariot, and mopping off his face with 
 his red bandanna. " Cart 's kinder heavy when 
 you carry it so fur. Hurts your hand, too." 
 
 " That 's so, boys," said the emperor, stopping 
 her diminutive elephants. " Do help him, please. 
 There, now, Zenobia and her daughter are almost 
 out of sight. Put your eggs and things in the 
 cart, Will, I mean in the chariot. Now let 's 
 start. Billy, you can walk in front of me now." 
 
 They started on again, the boys holding up the 
 side of the demoralized chariot, and keeping up 
 a fire of jokes. 
 
 " Next time you 're emperor, Marcus Aurelius, 
 see that your groom looks after your chariot 
 wheels before you start," said Archie, finally. 
 " It would be inconvenient to have a wheel come 
 off when you 're making a charge, and it would 
 give your majesty a nasty fall." 
 
 " Yes, my grooms are getting very careless. I 
 think I '11 make gladiolas of them, and get some 
 new ones. I captured a couple of pretty fair
 
 A BKOKEN WHEEL. 29 
 
 looking slaves, a little while ago, that I 'm think- 
 ing will do. If they don't," she added, severely, 
 " I '11 cut off their 'heads, and put them in a dun- 
 geon." 
 
 " Don't do that. I 'd rather you 'd make a 
 ' gladiola ' of me, too. I don't mind so much 
 about my head, but don't put me in a dungeon. 
 See here, emperor, next time you break down, 
 please do it within easy reach of your ancestral 
 halls. The side of this chariot hurts my hands, 
 and I wouldn't demean myself so for any one 
 but your majesty." 
 
 "That's too bad. Shall I carry it a little 
 while ? " asked the emperor, sympathizingly, as 
 they turned into the main road. " My hands are 
 pretty strong." 
 
 " No ; your humble slaves can manage a little 
 longer." 
 
 " It 's a good mile home, now," said Archie. 
 " See here. The blacksmith shop is not far down 
 the road. We'll leave the cart there, to be 
 mended. Edna ! Eunice ! Stop at the black- 
 smith's." 
 
 So the " triumphant procession " came to a 
 halt, while the ponies were unharnessed, and the 
 cart and wheel left for repairs. Cricket mounted
 
 30 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Mopsie, with the boys walking beside her, while 
 Billy stalked along, leading Charcoal, since Eu- 
 nice and Edna were walking along together. 
 
 Will was very fond of his merry little cousin, 
 who laughed at his jokes, took his teasing good- 
 naturedly, and loved and admired him with all 
 her heart. He was nearly sixteen, big and strong 
 of his age, and Cricket thought him the nicest 
 boy in the world. She was not nearly so fond 
 of Archie, who was a year younger than Will. 
 He teased her more, was quicker-tempered, some- 
 what conceited, and rather liked to order the 
 girls around. He was slight and small for his 
 age, and he did not have his reddish hair for 
 nothing. 
 
 Auntie met them at the gate, with an anxious 
 face. 
 
 " What has happened, children ? " she asked, 
 resignedly. 
 
 "Nothing, much, auntie," answered Cricket, 
 cheerfully. " We lost the cart-wheel off, that 's 
 all. It was real fun coming home. We left it 
 at the blacksmith's to get it mended." 
 
 " So you 've begun already," said auntie, laugh- 
 ing, but relieved.
 
 "OLD BILLY TELLS HIS STORY TO THE TWINS
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 CRICKET'S DISCOVERY. 
 
 OLD BILLY sat in the front yard, under a big 
 tree, telling stories to the twins. Perhaps I 
 should say telling a story, for Billy's range was 
 limited to a single tale, and when he had told 
 this, if any child wanted more, he simply had to 
 tell it over again. It was a story with a moral, 
 and was drawn from Billy's own experience. It 
 was about a bad little boy, who ate up all his sis- 
 ter's pep'mint drops. This was the worst of 
 crimes, in Billy's eyes, for to him pep'mint drops 
 were a sacred possession, not even to be lightly 
 referred to. 
 
 " His mariner," went on Billy, impressively, 
 " kep' a-whippin' him, an' a-whippin' him, but it 
 warn't no kind o' use, an' did n't do a mite o' 
 good. And just think, children," finished Billy, 
 solemnly, " when that bad, naughty, selfish little 
 boy died, he could n't go to Heaven and be a 
 good little angel, but he had to go to the Bad 
 Place." 
 
 The children listened with wide-open eyes.
 
 34 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Where is the Bad Place, Billy ? " questioned 
 Zaidee, looking interestedly up into Billy's face. 
 
 Billy looked slowly all about him, and above 
 him, and then at the ground, puzzled, now, what 
 to say. He was not very clear, himself. He 
 looked again at the blue sky, flecked with soft, 
 white clouds. 
 
 " Wai, I think, children," he said, in his slow 
 way, " that Heaven is up there where all them 
 little bright specks is at night. I guess them's 
 holes in the floor. Can't see 'em daytimes, you 
 know, when the lights are out, up above. 'N' I 
 ruther guess t' other place is down under there, 
 pointing to the ground." 
 
 Helen jumped. 
 
 "Oh, I don't want it right under our foots. 
 The ground might crack, Billy, and we 'd fall in. 
 Please don't say it 's there," she begged, ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 But Zaidee immediately began to poke the 
 ground with great interest, and stamp hard upon 
 it. 
 
 " Do you really think it 's down there, Billy ? " 
 she asked, excitedly. " Oh, Helen, let 's dig and 
 find it ! How far down is it, Billy ? " 
 
 " Wai, now, I dunno as it 's down there at all.
 
 CKICKET'S DISCOVERY. 35 
 
 Dunno as it is, dunno as it is. Folks say it 's 
 purty hot there." 
 
 " I know a nice place to dig, Helen, and that 's 
 the sand-banks. They 're so nice and soft. 
 Let 's go and try it." 
 
 But Helen hung back, and Billy said, anxiously, 
 " I would n't. Folks say that Somebody lives 
 there." 
 
 " Who ? " demanded Zaidee. 
 
 " Wai, folks says as Mr. Satan lives round 
 them parts," answered Billy, cautiously. 
 
 " Oh, don't let 's dig, Zaidee, I 'm afraid," said 
 timid little Helen, clinging to Zaidee's hand. 
 " He might not like it, if we finded him." 
 
 Zaidee, always more daring than her delicate 
 little twin, did not think so. 
 
 " 'Course we '11 be careful not to bunk right 
 into him," she conceded. " We '11 dig very slowly 
 when we get pretty near there. Come on, Helen. 
 Want to come, Billy ? " 
 
 " Sho, now ! " said Billy, looking very unhappy 
 over this unexpected result of his little moral 
 tale. Once, long ago, a mischievous boy-visitor 
 had taken and eaten all Billy's peppermints, and 
 he never forgot it. He always took occasion to 
 tell it as a story to every little newcomer, to
 
 36 CEICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 ensure the safety of his valued peppermints, but 
 no one had ever thus applied the story before. 
 
 " Seems as if I would n't try, children," he 
 repeated, anxiously. " You might tumble in." 
 
 But when Zaidee's mind was once set on an 
 enterprise, nothing could turn her. She ran 
 away for the shovels and dragged reluctant 
 Helen with her. They selected a nice hollow 
 place in the sand, and began to dig furiously. 
 In a few minutes they had a hole a foot deep. 
 Zaidee balanced herself on the edge, on her 
 knees, and put her hands down on the bottom 
 of the hole. 
 
 " I do think it 's getting hotter, Helen, just 
 feel." 
 
 Helen put her hand down, rather fearfully. 
 
 " It 's getting very hot, Zaidee, and don't let 's 
 dig any more." 
 
 "Don't be a 'fraid cat," responded Zaidee, 
 promptly. It 's only a little bit hot. We 
 must dig until it's ever so much hotter yet," 
 and Zaidee went on throwing up the sand, 
 energetically. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! how it all slides down the sides. 
 I '11 have to get in it and dig," she said, pres- 
 ently.
 
 CRICKET'S DISCOVERY. 37 
 
 " Don't! don't ! " cried Helen, in great terror, 
 clutching Zaidee with both hands. " Don't go 
 down there. You might tumble right through 
 any time right on Mr. Satam's head ! " 
 
 But Zaidee, unheeding, jumped into the hole, 
 and went on digging, sturdily, while Helen, 
 frightened and apprehensive, watched her from 
 above. Suddenly she shrieked in new terror : 
 
 " Oh, Zaidee ! come out ! please come out ! 
 I see the feathers on his cap sticking right up 
 there ! oh, you '11 hit him in a minute, and he '11 
 jump up ! " for " Mr. Satam," and Indian chiefs, 
 with waving plumes, and tomahawks, formed 
 a very confused picture in her mind. 
 
 Zaidee scrambled up in a flash. 
 
 " Where ? Where ? " she cried, peering down 
 when safe above. Truly, at the bottom of the 
 hole was seen the top of a feather dropped from 
 a sea-gull's wing, and buried under the drifting 
 sand, but the startled children never doubted 
 that it was growing fast on the top of " Mr. 
 Satam's " head, and they waited in terrified 
 silence for that head to rise and confront them. 
 
 Meanwhile, Billy was wandering around in 
 great anguish of soul, not knowing what dread- 
 ful thing might happen any moment. He started
 
 38 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 back to the house at last. Cricket came skip- 
 ping down the piazza steps. 
 
 " See here, young 'un," Billy began, eagerly, 
 he seldom called the children by their names. 
 " I 'm afraid suthin' dretfuPs goin' to happen." 
 
 " What 's the matter, Billy ? Why, how your 
 hands shake ! " 
 
 " Perhaps you can stop 'em," went on Billy, 
 hurriedly ; " them ere little tikes is a-doin' a 
 dretful thing. They 're over by the sand-bank, 
 a-diggin' fur hell." He brought out this last 
 word in a deep, half -frightened whisper. 
 
 " Digging for what? Oh, Billy ! " and Crick- 
 et's laugh rang out. " You know better than 
 that. Where are they? I'm going to dig a 
 little myself, and they might help me." 
 
 Billy looked a little shamefaced at Cricket's 
 laugh. 
 
 " Don't you think they could get there, then?" 
 he asked, looking relieved. " I don't really know 
 just where 't is, myself. Did n't want them little 
 tikes to come to no harm, that 's all." 
 
 " Billy, think how silly of you to think that 
 place is under the ground. Think how men 
 dig wells and mines, and things, and nothing ever 
 happens, unless they cave in, or something like
 
 CKICKET'S DISCOVERY. 39 
 
 that, which does n't count," said Cricket, skip- 
 ping and dancing on, as usual, while Billy 
 shambled along by her side. " I 'm just ashamed 
 of you." 
 
 Billy looked crushed. 
 
 " I s'pose I 'm a silly boy," he said, meekly, 
 for the poor old fellow was never anything but 
 a boy in his own eyes. " See here, don't say 
 nothin' to Mis' Maxwell, will you ? " he added, 
 anxiously. 
 
 Just then the children, who still stood, fright- 
 ened yet curious, by the hole, caught sight of 
 them coming. They both made a wild rush and 
 caught Cricket's hands. 
 
 " I'm so 'fraid, Cricket," half sobbed Helen. 
 " Zaidee digged for the Bad Place and we 've 
 most found it, and there's a feather of Mr. 
 Satam's head, sticking right up, and I 'm 'fraid 
 he may bounce up and get us." 
 
 Cricket doubled up with laughter. 
 
 " Oh, you silly children ! You 're thinking of 
 a red Indian, I guess. That 's nothing but some 
 bird 's feather. If you dug long enough, you 'd 
 come to China, that 's all." 
 
 " But it got so hot, Cricket," insisted Zaidee, 
 " an' Billy says it 's awfully hot there."
 
 40 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " 'Course it's hot when you dig down, hecause 
 the centre of the earth is all burning up, you 
 know, but I don't think you '11 get far enough to 
 get scorched any. You're silly children, any 
 way," finished Cricket, with a very elder-sisterly 
 air. 
 
 Nevertheless, Helen did not feel secure until 
 Cricket had jumped into the hole and pulled up 
 the feather, triumphantly. 
 
 " Now I 'm going to dig myself," with a deep- 
 laid purpose in her mind, " and you may dig, too. 
 You start another hole, right here. I '11 dig this 
 big one out more, and I'll be an incubus" 
 meaning nobody knows what " and live in it, 
 and you be little crabs trying to get out of my 
 way in these holes of yours." 
 
 The children, quite reassured now as to the 
 safety of their pet amusement, dug away mer- 
 rily, while Billy, like an amiable Turk, sat cross- 
 legged near by. 
 
 The shifting stretches of sand changed their 
 shape year by year with the wind and rain, and 
 Cricket had no definite idea of the exact locality 
 of the spot where mamma and auntie had buried 
 their money-bags, thirty years before. She en- 
 larged the hole the children had begun, till it
 
 CKICKET'S DISCOVERY. 41 
 
 was quite an excavation, carrying on her game 
 of " incubus " with the children all the time. 
 At last she concluded to sit down and rest. 
 She planted herself in the bottom of the hole, 
 with her curly crop not visible above the top of 
 it. She pulled up her sleeve, plunging her hand 
 idly in the dry, cool sand, till her arm was buried 
 far above the elbow. Then her hand struck a 
 resisting object. 
 
 "Oh, oh!" she shrieked, immediately, not 
 daring to move her hand lest she should lose the 
 object, which might prove what she was search- 
 ing for. It was too large to bring up through 
 the weight of sand. 
 
 " Come here, Zaidee, quick," she cried. " Dig 
 me out. Dig out my arm, quick." 
 
 Helen looked fearfully into the hole, then set 
 up a shriek in her turn. 
 
 " Mr. Satam 's got Cricket's hand, and he 's 
 holding her down. Pull, pull, Zaidee," and the 
 child began tugging at Cricket's nearest shoulder, 
 which she could reach without committing her- 
 self to the dreadful possibilities of that hole. 
 Zaidee instantly jumped in, however, and, scream- 
 ing, herself, added her small strength to pull up 
 Cricket's arm, while Billy, startled by this sud-
 
 42 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 den hubbub, ran distractedly from side to side, 
 trying to find something to pull, likewise adding 
 his peculiar " Hi ! Hi ! " his expression of great 
 excitement. Cricket laughed so at the general 
 uproar that she could not explain. 
 
 " Oh, children," she managed to cry at last. 
 " Stop pulling the sockets out of my arms I 
 mean the arms out of my sockets. Goodness, 
 Zaidee, how you pinch! There isn't anybody 
 down there, but I 've got hold of something and 
 I don't want to lose it. Just dig down around 
 my arm, that 's all. Stop crying, Helen. That 's 
 a good girl, Zaidee." And so in a few minutes, 
 by their united exertions, a hole was scraped 
 around Cricket's arm, and she could bring up 
 the object she was grasping. 
 
 " What is it ? " cried the excited little twins. 
 Cricket plunged both hands under the object, 
 and, if you '11 believe me, she actually brought 
 up a little buckskin money-bag. 
 
 "Hoo-ray!" she shrieked, wild with delight 
 at her discovery. " It 's mamma's bag, children, 
 that she planted ever so long ago, when she was 
 a little girl. There 's money in it." 
 
 The bag, indeed, had been perfectly preserved 
 all these years in the sand. The sand -banks
 
 CRICKET'S DISCOVERY. 43 
 
 there were too high to be ever overflowed by the 
 tides, and were very dry, even to the depth of 
 many feet. But the string fell to pieces in 
 Cricket's eager hands as she tried to unfasten 
 it, and the pennies and dimes came to view. 
 
 A few minutes later, the young woman, 
 breathless and excited, flew up the walk, with 
 the twins toiling on behind. Auntie Jean and 
 grandma were sitting on the porch, when sud- 
 denly a shower of dull-looking coins fell into 
 auntie's blue lawn lap. 
 
 " I 've found it ! " Cricket cried, triumphantly. 
 " Knew I would. Won't I laugh at those girls 
 now!" 
 
 " But what in the world " began Auntie Jean, 
 in amazement, hastily transferring the heap to a 
 newspaper. Cricket waved the chamois bag in 
 wild delight. 
 
 " It 's one of the bags, auntie, that you and 
 mamma buried so long ago in the sand - banks, 
 because you thought it was the right kind of a 
 bank to put money in." 
 
 " We digged the hole," put in Zaidee, eager 
 for her share of the glory. " We digged for 
 Mr. Satam's house, an' most found him, an' 
 Cricket came an' said he'd gone to China, an'
 
 44 CRICKET AT THE SEASHOEE. 
 
 then Cricket digged this up, and we're going 
 to dig every day, now, and get lots of money," 
 for the whole performance was very mysterious 
 in Zaidee's mind. 
 
 You can imagine the clatter when the rest of 
 the children arrived on the scene, and Cricket, 
 flushed with victory, waved her bag, which had 
 been found to have mamma's initials on it. 
 Therefore, auntie's was still unfound, and, 
 strange to say, it never has been found, although, 
 after Cricket's remarkable achievement, the 
 sand-banks in that locality were excavated to a 
 point just short of China.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 KEEPING STORE. 
 
 IT was voted by all that the money in the bag 
 belonged undeniably to Cricket, by right of dis- 
 covery, but she would not touch it till she had 
 written to mamma the astounding news. She 
 was very anxious to cable the important an- 
 nouncement, and Auntie Jean had some diffi- 
 culty in persuading her that a letter would 
 convey it just as well. The money only 
 amounted to two dollars and sixty-four cents in 
 all, but this was larger in Cricket's eyes than 
 any money she had ever owned before. She 
 spent it in imagination a hundred times, and 
 the others helped her, till even little Kenneth 
 caught the fever, and begged " Tritet, buy Ten- 
 net bikachine," his own invention for bicycle. 
 
 " Goody ! " exclaimed Cricket, " that 's just 
 what I '11 do for myself. Eunice, I 'm going to 
 put the money in the really-truly bank this time, 
 and keep putting more in, and I'll save my 
 allowance and get a bicycle to ride when I 'm
 
 46 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 too big to ride Mopsie. Wonder how long it 
 would take." 
 
 " Years," said Eunice, with a cold - water ex- 
 pression. " Why, Cricket, bicycles cost lots of 
 money. You never could do it." 
 
 " I can ride on the boys' bicycles when they 
 get them, to learn how, and keep saving till I 'm 
 grown up. Couldn't I get enough by that 
 time ? Wish I could earn money." 
 
 " Keep a peanut stand," suggested Archie. 
 
 "I wonder if I couldn't," said Cricket, in- 
 stantly attracted by the idea. " What fun ! 
 Where could I have one ? I 'd just love to. 
 I 'd have that big white umbrella that used to 
 stand up in the old phaeton, over my head, and 
 I 'd have a chair and a table. Do you suppose 
 auntie would let me go down on the dock and 
 sell peanuts ? " 
 
 " I should think not ! " cried Edna, horrified. 
 
 "I'm going to ask her," returned Cricket, 
 undaunted. " I '11 make great piles of money. 
 Everybody will stop and buy of me when they're 
 going out sailing. Peanuts are always good 
 when you 're sailing." 
 
 "Discount to the family?" asked Will. 
 
 "Discount to me, anyway," put in Archie,
 
 KEEPING STORE. 47 
 
 insinuatingly, " for my suggestion. Really, you 
 know you ought to supply me free." 
 
 " Free ! " replied Cricket, with much scorn. 
 " I might as well try to fill up Marbury Bay as 
 you, Mr. Archie. I know who ate twenty-seven 
 griddle-cakes for breakfast." 
 
 " Don't confess it right out loud, Miss 
 Scricket, if you did get away with that number. 
 I 'm not astonished, but I 'm overcome." 
 
 "Dear me," answered Cricket, tossing her 
 curls, " you think you 're abdominally smart, I 
 know, but " 
 
 A howl of laughter stopped her, and Cricket 
 looked dismayed. They always made so much 
 fun of her when she made one of her constant 
 mistakes in the use of words. 
 
 " She means abnormally," shouted Archie, 
 rolling on the ground. " Abdominally smart, 
 oh, my ! " 
 
 " Well, abnormally, if you like it better," re- 
 turned Cricket, amiably. "I don't see much 
 difference, anyway. I am going to ask auntie, 
 right away, about the peanut stand," she con- 
 tinued, changing the subject quickly, as long 
 experience had taught her to do. Off she ran, 
 returning, jubilant, in a few moments.
 
 48 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Auntie says to be sure I may ; there, now, 
 Edna ; she says I may sell all the peanuts I like, 
 and on the dock, if I want to, and she'll give 
 me a pint cup to measure them out with. And 
 since you all make so much fun of it, I '11 keep 
 it all alone, without any partner." 
 
 " You might go shares with me," pleaded 
 Archie ; but Cricket was resolute. 
 
 " If you 'd been more polite to me, perhaps I 
 might have. Now I sha' n't. I don't know that 
 I' 11 even sell you any." 
 
 "But I'll be partner, sha' n't I, Cricket?" 
 asked Eunice, accustomed to sharing everything 
 with her younger sister. 
 
 " You all laughed at me, first about finding the 
 bag, then about the peanuts," she said, firmly, 
 "and I'm going to be my own partner. If I 
 take any one it shall be Billy. He never teases." 
 
 " But if you put in the capital," urged Archie, 
 " you should have somebody else to supply the 
 experience." 
 
 "All the experience that any of you would 
 supply would be experience in eating them," 
 Cricket replied, with severity. " Then I 'd lose 
 my money and my peanuts, too. Good-by. I 'in 
 going to make my arrangements now."
 
 KEEPING STORE. 49 
 
 " If you buy your peanuts of old Simon, at 
 the corner, make him give them to you whole- 
 sale," called Archie after her ; and then he de- 
 parted on a little private expedition. 
 
 Cricket was busy all the rest of the afternoon, 
 getting her establishment together. First, a lit- 
 tle, square table was unearthed in the garret, 
 and was scrubbed and polished by Cricket's own 
 hands. Then the old white phaeton umbrella 
 was found and brushed, and a long slit in one 
 side of the cover mended with stitches of heroic 
 size. This was, with much painstaking, lashed 
 firmly to the back of the stout, wooden chair, 
 contributed by the kitchen. All these, old Billy, 
 proud and happy at being selected as chief aid, 
 took down to the little dock, where she was to 
 set up business. She decided to invest a capital 
 of fifty cents, not part of her new-found funds, 
 but her private and personal possession, and ex- 
 pected to come out of her venture a millionaire. 
 She made up her mind that she would not take 
 even Billy into partnership, for it would be so 
 much fun for him to buy peanuts of her; but 
 she graciously allowed him to go to the village 
 store with her the next morning, after breakfast, 
 to help her carry home her stock m trade. She
 
 50 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 would have driven Mopsie, but the cart was not 
 yet home from the blacksmith's. 
 
 Acting on the boys' suggestion, she proposed 
 to old Simon Hodges, who kept the village store, 
 that he should give her the peanuts wholesale, 
 and they struck a bargain that she should buy 
 them at nine cents a quart instead of ten, which 
 Cricket regarded as a most generous reduction. 
 
 She invested in four quarts to begin with. 
 
 " Say, little 'un," suddenly proposed old Billy, 
 nudging her, " why don't you buy some o' those 
 pep'mint drops long o' the peanits. I 'd just as 
 lives buy 'em o' you as o' Simon. Fact is, I 'd 
 liver." 
 
 " What a good idea, Billy. 'Course I will." 
 
 Billy grinned from ear to ear. 
 
 " How will you sell them, Mr. Simon ? " 
 
 Simon, a weather-beaten old sailor, who had 
 taken to keeping store in his old age, thought he 
 could sell her as many as she could take aboard 
 at the rate of six for five cents, instead of the 
 regular rate of a penny apiece. These pepper- 
 mint drops must have been peculiar to Marbury, 
 I think, for I have never seen any just like them 
 anywhere else. They were thick and round, and 
 about two inches across, indented in the middle,
 
 KEEPING STOKE. 51 
 
 like a rosette. They were not soft and creamy, 
 but hard and crunchy, though how much of this 
 latter property rose from the lack of absolute 
 freshness, I am not prepared to say, for it was a 
 standing joke with the boys that Simon had once 
 been heard to remark that he had n't gotten in 
 his summer stock of candy yet. Some of the 
 peppermints were pink, and some were striped 
 red and white. Cricket supplied herself with 
 six of each. 
 
 " That makes forty-six cents, does n't it ? I 
 ought to spend the whole of my money," she 
 said, twirling her half-dollar on the counter. 
 
 " Tobaccer ? " queried Billy, quickly, thinking 
 of his other indulgence. " I 'd just as lives 
 
 " Oh, no, Billy, I would n't have tobacco for 
 anything, nasty stuff," said Cricket. 
 
 Billy looked dejected. 
 
 " Did n't mean no harm," he said, meekly. 
 
 " Never mind, Billy. Now what shall I get ? " 
 
 " Lemons," suggested Simon, deferentially. 
 " I '11 let you have 'em for a cent apiece, and 
 water 's cheap. Lemonade would sell well these 
 hot days," for Simon had been taken into Crick- 
 et's confidence. 
 
 " That 's a good idea," beamed the small mer-
 
 52 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 chant. " There 's the sugar, and I guess grand- 
 ma would give me that, and I 'd let her have a 
 glass of lemonade free. Yes, I '11 take four 
 lemons, Mr. Simon, thank you. Now, Billy, 
 you take the peanuts and put the lemons in 
 your coat pocket, and I '11 carry the pepper- 
 mints." 
 
 Thus laden the two went gaily homeward. 
 
 " For goodness sake ! look there, Billy ! " 
 Cricket suddenly exclaimed, as they approached 
 the little dock, where they had arranged the 
 table, chair, and canopy, the night before. Ar- 
 chie had evidently been busy during their ab- 
 sence. He liked to tease Cricket, because, as he 
 said, she was so " gamey." Edna would grow 
 peevish and fretful if he teased her, and his 
 mother would never allow it. But Cricket never 
 cared, and enjoyed a joke on herself as well as 
 on any one else. 
 
 She went into shrieks of laughter, at the new 
 decorations adorning her place of business. 
 From every rib of the umbrella hung a little, live, 
 wriggling crab. Four horseshoe shells, stuck up 
 on the sharp points, decorated the four corners 
 of the table, and a drapery of seaweed festooned 
 its legs, and the back of her chair, A flapping
 
 KEEPING STORE. 53 
 
 sign was suspended on one side, on which, in big 
 letters, they read : 
 
 PEANUT EMPORIUM!! 
 
 SIGN OF THE i i; A 1; 
 MISS SCRICKET, BILLY & CO. 
 
 PEANUTS STRICTLY FRESH EVERY YEAR 
 CALL EARLY AND OFTEX 
 
 Billy glanced from Cricket to the peanut stand, 
 and back again, not knowing whether to join in 
 her laughter or not. He did n't see anything 
 funny himself in it, for he had a horror of creep- 
 ing, crawling things. 
 
 " Drat them boys ! " he said, at length ; " how 
 be we goin' to get them things off ? " 
 
 " You go get me a basket and a pair of scis- 
 sors, Billy," ordered Cricket of her willing slave, 
 " and I '11 take them away. Don't they look 
 funny ? " 
 
 In a very little while the crabs were restored 
 to their native element, the seaweed was thrown 
 over the dock, the chair and table wiped clean 
 and dry, and everything was again in order. 
 The horseshoe shells were left sticking up for 
 ornaments. Then she proceeded to lay out her 
 stock, and dispose of it to the best advantage.
 
 54 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Grandma contributed a big cracked dish for the 
 peanuts, which stood in the middle of the table. 
 The peppermints were arranged in a row, a red 
 one and a striped one alternating. 
 
 " Now, Billy, you stay here and watch things 
 while I go to the house for a pitcher for the lem- 
 onade, and some tumblers. I must n't forget the 
 sugar, either, and a knife. Oh, and the lemon- 
 squeezer. I do hope everybody will keep out of 
 the way till I get it all fixed. 
 
 Fortunately, auntie had sent Edna and Eunice 
 on an errand, and had told Eliza to keep the 
 children away till the little merchant was ready 
 to begin her sales, so Cricket was left in peace, 
 as Archie, after he had finished his adornments, 
 had gone for a sail with Will. 
 
 A little later, and the peanut vender had every- 
 thing in order. A pitcher of lemonade not of 
 the strongest, it must be confessed was added 
 to the table. At the first signal, the twins, who 
 had been eagerly watching from a distance, 
 darted forward, with pennies in hand, and trade 
 began. Then the girls appeared, and each bought 
 a glass of lemonade, and when Will and Archie 
 landed, as they did, a few minutes later, the de- 
 mand for peanuts increased. Cricket measured
 
 KEEPING STORE. 55 
 
 them out in a teacup, and poured them into the 
 purchaser's outstretched hands. 
 
 " Put in some more for good measure," some- 
 body would say. " Some of mine spilled." 
 
 " Pick them right up, then," said the little store- 
 keeper, thriftily. " 'T won't hurt the nuts a bit. 
 No, Zaidee, you can't have another thing till you 
 bring me some more money. A peppermint drop, 
 Eunice? No, you can't have two for a cent. 
 'Don't they look good ? B'lieve I '11 just taste 
 one," hastily putting her words into practice. 
 " Yes, Billy, what do you want ? a red one or a 
 striped one ? " 
 
 " Say, little un," asked Billy, uncertainly, 
 " which would you take, if you was me ? I want 
 two cents' wuth. Would you get two reds, or 
 two striped ? " 
 
 "Two reds," advised Edna, as Eunice said, 
 Two striped." 
 
 " I can't buy so many, can I ? " he asked, hold- 
 ing out his hand, with six cents in it. " I want 
 some peanits, too, and some lemonade. Will 
 this buy 'em all ? " 
 
 " Get one striped and one white," said Eunice, 
 " and two cents' worth of peanuts and a glass of 
 lemonade."
 
 56 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Lemonade is three cents a glass," said Cricket, 
 " but, Billy, you can have it for two, because 
 you 've helped me so much." 
 
 " By the way, Will," broke in Archie, sud- 
 denly, " how much are crabs selling for, in the 
 market, to-day ? " 
 
 " Ten cents," answered Will, promptly. 
 
 "Now, then, Cricket, you owe me a lot on 
 those crabs that I furnished you this morning. 
 It took me all yesterday afternoon to catcfi 
 them, too. You have sold them all off, I see, 
 already. How much did they bring? Give 
 me all the lemonade I want, and we '11 call it 
 square." 
 
 " I don't care whether you call it square or 
 round," answered Cricket, briefly, snipping Zai- 
 dee's fingers, which were creeping too near the 
 peppermints. " Zaidee, keep your hands away. 
 You 've broken a whole piece out of that." 
 
 " How could she break a whole piece ? " teased 
 Archie. "If it's a piece, 'tis n't whole, Miss 
 Scricket." 
 
 "If catching crabs makes you so brilliant, 
 you'd better catch some more," said Cricket, 
 serenely. " Now, do all of you go away. I see 
 some other people coming down to the dock, and
 
 KEEPING STORE. 57 
 
 I know they '11 buy something, if you go away, 
 so they can see me," she added, rearranging her 
 wares. " Billy, drive them off." Thus ordered, 
 Billy made a lunge at the twins first, and they, 
 secretly half -terrified out of their wits if he 
 spoke to them in his gruff tones, scampered off 
 to Eliza. Eunice and Edna strolled off, eating 
 peanuts, and the boys betook themselves to new 
 sports. 
 
 All day the little maid and her faithful ally 
 sat on the little wharf, vending her wares. The 
 dock had half a dozen sailboats moored there, 
 and their various owners, in passing to and fro, 
 stopped, laughed, and bought. Soon Billy had 
 to take some of the accumulated money and go 
 up to Simon's to replenish the stock, and fre- 
 quent expeditions there through the day were 
 made. The two refreshed themselves in the 
 intervals of business with sundry glasses of 
 lemonade, and occasional " peanits," while 
 every now and then a piece of a red or of a 
 striped peppermint found its way down Cricket's 
 throat. Billy scrupulously paid for all he ate. 
 By supper -time nearly everything had dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " Now, I think, Billy, we might just as well
 
 58 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 drink up this little bit of lemonade, and eat up 
 these peanuts," said the tired little merchant. 
 " All the peppermints are gone, and it 's most 
 supper-time." 
 
 Billy was nothing loth, and together they soon 
 cleared the board. 
 
 " Well, my little peanut woman, how went the 
 day with you ? " asked Auntie Jean, at supper. 
 She had, of course, patronized the peanut stand 
 herself during the day, with grandma. " All 
 your wares sold?" 
 
 " Yes, auntie, everything," answered Cricket, 
 as the always hungry tribe gathered around the 
 supper - table. " Billy and I ate up what little 
 there was left so it should n't be wasted." 
 
 "Then you don't mean to go on with your 
 speculations in peanuts ? " asked grandma. 
 
 "No-o, I think not, grandma, thank you," 
 answered Cricket. " It was very nice to-day, but 
 I think I could n't stand keeping still all day for 
 every day. But we made a lot of money," she 
 added, with much satisfaction. 
 
 " Well, dear, that is always gratifying," replied 
 auntie. " How much did you make ? if we may 
 be admitted to the financial secrets of the 
 firm. "
 
 KEEPING STORE. 59 
 
 " We made twenty-one cents," cried Cricket, 
 proudly, " and I think that's pretty good." 
 
 " Indeed, it is. You 're quite a financier. 
 And you invested fifty cents ? Then you have 
 seventy-one cents now." 
 
 " No, we have n't," returned Cricket, looking 
 puzzled. " I have twenty-one cents, now. Oh, 
 I spent a lot more than fifty cents. Billy went 
 up to the store five or six times and got more 
 peanuts and things, as fast as the money came 
 in. Now, I have twenty-one cents to put in my 
 box. Is n't that making twenty - one cents ? " 
 she asked, looking up, anxiously. 
 
 There was a burst of laughter from the older 
 ones. 
 
 " My dear little girl," said Auntie Jean, " I 'm 
 afraid your affairs are not on a sound financial 
 basis. You must have been too generous. 
 People don't call it making money unless they 
 get back all they spend, and more besides. As 
 it is, you had fifty cents this morning and, 
 to-night, you have twenty-one. That looks like 
 losing." 
 
 Cricket stared. 
 
 " I don't believe I 'm a good speculationer," 
 she sighed, at last, looking crestfallen. " Well,
 
 60 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 I don't care much. I did n't want to keep store 
 any more anyway. It 's too poky. Can we be 
 excused, grandma ? I must have a ride on 
 Mopsie, or I '11 burst ! "
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A BATH IN CURDS AND WHEY. 
 
 ALL the younger fry were playing in the barn. 
 It was much smaller than the great barns at 
 Kayuna, for there was no farm attached to Mrs. 
 Maxwell's place, but the new-mown hay was 
 just as sweet and soft to jump on as the hay- 
 mows were at dear old Kayuna. There was a lit- 
 tle added excitement in the fact that Luke was 
 not nearly so good-natured as 'Gustus John was, 
 and was very apt to chase them off his premises 
 when he found them there. He said the horses 
 would not eat the hay after the children had 
 jumped on it. However, as grandma always 
 said that they could play in the barn as long 
 as they did n't do any damage to anything, 
 Luke's disapproval did not trouble them much. 
 To be sure, they would scamper off if they heard 
 him coming, and breathlessly fly around corners, 
 and eagerly report if the " coast was clear," but, 
 after all, all this was more for fun than anything 
 else. This morning they had a clear three hours
 
 62 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 before them, for Luke had gone to drive grandma 
 and auntie over to Plymouth, and they would 
 not be back till almost dinner-time. Of course 
 the time must be improved by a grand romp in 
 the barn. 
 
 Eliza sat in the doorway crocheting. The 
 older girls climbed the ladder to a high beam, 
 and then would shoot off on to the soft hay far 
 below. Zaidee ambitiously tried to follow. But 
 half-way up the ladder her courage invariably 
 failed her, and she would sit still and shriek till 
 one of her sisters came and carried her down. 
 
 " Zaidee, don't climb up this ladder again," 
 said Eunice, sharply, after she had rescued her 
 small sister for the tenth time. " If you do, I '11 
 leave you there. It's too high for you, and 
 you 're always afraid." 
 
 " I is n't a bit afraid," returned Zaidee, stoutly. 
 " It 's only when I get up there, the ladder gets 
 so dizzy." 
 
 " You get dizzy, you mean. At any rate, don't 
 climb up there again." 
 
 " You must n't speak cross to me," said Zaidee, 
 who was a born rebel, and resented any orders 
 of her older sisters. " If you speak cross to me 
 I '11 run away."
 
 A BATH IN CURDS AND WHEY. 63 
 
 " Oh, don't, Zaidee ! " begged Helen, in alarm. 
 
 " Yes, 1 will. I '11 run away, and then she '11 
 be sorry. Let's jump on this little hay, 
 Helen." 
 
 But after a time the high ladder looked so 
 very tempting, and it was such wild excitement 
 to see the girls flying off that great, high beam, 
 with shrieks of fun and laughter, that Zaidee 
 tried the experiment again, of climbing up her- 
 self. She went up eight rounds bravely, and 
 then it suddenly looked so very far to the 
 bottom that she screamed for help, as usual. 
 
 " You 're a naughty little girl, to climb up 
 there again, after I had told you not to," said 
 Eunice, severely. " Now you must stay there 
 and scream till you promise me not to try it 
 again." She knew there was really no danger, 
 and Zaidee was always trying to do what she 
 could not. 
 
 " Take me down, 'Liza ! take me down, Eunice ! " 
 she shrieked, till Edna said : 
 
 " Oh, do take her down, Eunice, and have her 
 stop." 
 
 So Eunice helped her off her high perch once 
 more, with the warning that if she did it again 
 she would certainly leave her there and go away
 
 64 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 where she couldn't hear her call. Then the 
 older girls resumed their fun. Zaidee and 
 Helen ran out into the yard. 
 
 Presently, Helen came flying back in a great 
 panic. 
 
 " Do come here, 'Liza ! do come quick, Eunice ! 
 Zaidee's eating worms ! She 's eaten two woolly 
 ones, and one plain one. I'm afraid they'll 
 make her sick. Do come, 'Liza, and make her 
 stop." 
 
 " Is n't she the funniest child ! " exclaimed 
 Eunice, as Eliza hurried off to rescue the 
 worms. 
 
 " If somebody won't give her what she wants, 
 or if anything makes her cross, she always does 
 something disagreeable to herself. Sometimes 
 she says she won't eat any luncheon or dinner, 
 or won't go to walk. Think of eating those 
 worms, just because I scolded her about climbing 
 up on the ladder. Ugh ! " 
 
 " I should think she was funny. Girls, let 's 
 go up to Simon's, and buy some peppermints," 
 suggested Edna. " It 's such a hot day, and pep- 
 permints make your throat so cool when you 
 breathe, don't you know ? I 've five cents in 
 my pocket."
 
 A BATH IN CURDS AND WHEY. 65 
 
 Zaidee, having reluctantly consented to forego 
 her diet of worms, watched the three girls go 
 out into the road, and ran after them. 
 
 " Let me go, too," she called, toiling after. 
 
 " No, you can't go, my dear. It 's too far. You 
 stay with 'Liza," said Eunice, but speaking very 
 pleasantly, to avoid another scene. 
 
 " It is n't a bit too far, Eunice. We go there 
 lots of times with 'Liza. If you're going for 
 peppermints, I want some, too." 
 
 " Run and ask Billy to give you some of his, 
 then. Zaidee, you can't go. Now, run back." 
 
 " Then I '11 run away," said Zaidee, repeating 
 her former threat. She had lately heard some 
 one speaking of running away, and it seemed a 
 very nice punishment to inflict on Eunice. 
 
 " Very well," said Eunice, turning away. 
 " Only don't eat any more worms;" for the way 
 to manage Zaidee was not to take much notice 
 of her. She was a headstrong little thing, and 
 grew very obstinate if she was opposed. 
 
 " Run back to 'Liza, children," repeated 
 Eunice, looking back. " Come on, girls." 
 
 " It 's awfully hot walking up this road," ob- 
 served Edna, as they went up the slight incline 
 to the village. The treeless road was made of
 
 66 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 white sea -shells, powdered fine, and reflected 
 the glare of the sun powerfully. 
 
 " Don't your feet burn, walking along here ? " 
 Mine do, awfully," said Cricket. " I wish I had 
 wooden legs like Maggie Sampson's father's. 
 His feet can't burn." 
 
 " He can 't feel the heat through the soles of 
 his feet, 'cause he ain't built that way," chanted 
 Eunice, instantly, for she shared the family 
 failing for rhyme. 
 
 " We might have stilts, I suppose," said 
 Cricket. " I love stilts. Here we are. Let 's 
 rest and get cool before we go back." 
 
 It was half an hour before the girls strolled 
 leisurely into the yard again, munching their 
 peppermints. 
 
 "Where are the children?" asked Eliza, 
 hastily, seeing the girls come back alone. 
 
 " Not with us. We sent them back to you," 
 said Eunice, quickly. " What have those tire- 
 some children done now? They ought to be 
 put in barrels and kept there. It's the only 
 way to be sure of them. When did you miss 
 them?" 
 
 " Ever since you Ve been gone. Zaidee ran 
 past, saying she was going with you, so I let 
 her."
 
 A BATH IN CURDS AND WHEY. 67 
 
 "They must be somewhere around the 
 house or barn," answered Eunice, beginning 
 to call "Helen! Helen!" She knew that 
 Helen would answer if she were within earshot, 
 but Zaidee was quite equal to letting them call, 
 if she were in a fit of temper. But they searched 
 in vain. Kenneth insisted they went " that 
 way," pointing down the beach, but Billy thought 
 he had seen them going up the beach. They 
 searched the house and barn, and then, as it was 
 near dinner-time, Will and Archie appeared and 
 joined the detective force. 
 
 " This is getting serious," said Will, pres- 
 ently. " I think the little skivers have really 
 run off." 
 
 " Could they have fallen off the dock?" asked 
 Cricket, anxiously. But, fortunately, it was low 
 tide, and there was no water to fall into. They 
 inquired of all passers-by, and of the immediate 
 neighbours, with no better result. The children 
 had not been seen. Faces began to grow grave, 
 and feet began to fly faster in every direction. 
 Archie saddled the ponies, and Cricket started 
 off in one direction, Eunice in another, while he 
 and Will went back into the woodland roads. 
 
 Meanwhile, the twins, after being sent back
 
 68 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 by Eunice, had marched disconsolately down on 
 the beach, without Eliza's seeing them. 
 
 "I'm going to run away now," said Zaidee, 
 firmly. She must have gotten out of the wrong 
 side of the bed that morning, for everything 
 seemed to go wrong. She was usually a sunny 
 little soul. 
 
 " Where shall we run to ? " asked Helen, 
 hanging back. 
 
 " Let 's go this way," said Zaidee, selecting 
 "this way," for no particular reason. It led 
 them back of the house, on to one of the wood- 
 land roads, out of sight of anybody. 
 
 They trudged on for half a mile or more, and 
 then suddenly came upon a small cheese factory, 
 which stood upon one side of a little brook. 
 There was a dam here, and a small pond, and on 
 the other side of the brook a little saw-mill 
 stood. 
 
 Zaidee, of course, immediately wanted to go 
 into this queer looking house, as she called it. 
 Finding the door open, and no one there, she 
 entered, boldly. As it was just noon, the few 
 men employed were at dinner, and the place 
 was deserted. 
 
 " What a queer house ! " exclaimed Zaidee.
 
 A BATH IN CURDS AND WHEY. 69 
 
 It was a long bare place, with a platform on one 
 side, and on that were three or four vats or 
 tanks, only, of course, the children did not know 
 what they were. These vats were for the milk. 
 There was also the most remarkable number of 
 new brooms decorating the walls. 
 
 The children ran here and there with the 
 greatest interest and curiosity ; and very soon 
 discovered that there were spigots in the tanks. 
 Of course Zaidee instantly proceeded to turn 
 one, and out came a spurting deluge of whey, all 
 over their feet. They jumped back, hastily. 
 
 " Oh, what pretty white water ! " cried Zaidee, 
 eagerly, stooping down and spatting her hands 
 in the trough, and then throwing it up in the air. 
 It came down all over herself and Helen. 
 
 " I don't like it. It smells so loud" said 
 dainty Helen, drawing back. 
 
 Zaidee sniffed, critically. 
 
 " Yes, it does, Helen. But is n't it pretty ? 
 Let 's look over the wall and see what it looks 
 like." 
 
 They were not, however, quite tall enough to 
 do this, but Zaidee's quick eyes, roving around, 
 spied a wooden stool which she immediately 
 dragged up on the little platform, to stand on.
 
 70 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 She climbed up and looked in. It was not the 
 vat in which she had turned the spigot, and it 
 was half full of whey with great pieces of the 
 curd floating around on it. 
 
 "Here's more nice white water, with pretty 
 white stones floating on it," Zaidee cried, eagerly. 
 She stretched down her hand to grasp some. 
 She could just reach it, but to her surprise the 
 " white stone " separated as she grasped it. 
 
 " I can't pick it up," she cried, puzzled, as she 
 tried again and again. 
 
 " Let me see," begged Helen. But the stool 
 was not big enough for both to stand on, and 
 Zaidee was too interested to get down. A bigger 
 piece of curd came floating towards her, and 
 she leaned quickly forward to reach it. She lost 
 her balance, and went headlong into the milky 
 pool. 
 
 In a moment, sputtering and screaming, she 
 found her feet, for the liquid was only up to her 
 waist, but the top of the tank being even with 
 her head, of course she could not get out. 
 Helen stood open-mouthed with astonishment at 
 Zaidee' s sudden disappearance ; then she quickly 
 climbed upon the stool to see for herself. Zaidee 
 stood immersed to her waist, with her short,
 
 A BATH IN CURDS AND WHEY. 71 
 
 silky black hair plastered to her head with the 
 whey, and small lumps of curd sticking all over 
 her head and shoulders, so that she looked as if 
 she had been out in a sharp - cornered snow 
 storm. She tried to rub her streaming eyes 
 dry with her wet fists. 
 
 " I don't like this white water," she said, wip- 
 ing her wet face on her wetter sleeve. " It 's 
 nasty stuff. It's worse than the ocean. It's 
 sour water, Helen. Just taste it." 
 
 " I can't," said Helen. " How can you get 
 out ? Can you step on those white stones ? " 
 
 "They won't hold me up. They're such 
 funny stones. They all go to pieces when you 
 squeeze them," said Zaidee, grasping some with 
 both hands, to illustrate. " Could you put the 
 stool over for me to stand on ? " 
 
 " I can't, 'cause I 'm standing on it. P'raps I 
 can pull you out, Zaidee. See if I can." 
 
 Zaidee waded over to the side of the tank, 
 and tried to climb up the smooth, tin-lined sur- " 
 face, while Helen tugged from above. 
 
 When this did not work, the children stared 
 at each other wistfully. 
 
 " Do you s'pose you '11 have to stay there 
 always ? " said Helen, at last, in a half whis- 
 per?"
 
 72 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 " No. I '11 holler," said Zaidee, with confi- 
 dence, " and somebody will come. If only I 
 could get boosted a little bit ! Helen ! " with 
 a sudden inspiration, " you jump over here and 
 I '11 stand on your knee as I do on Liza's when 
 she boosts me up into the apple-tree. Then I 
 could climb right over." 
 
 Helen hesitated. This plan did not strike her 
 favourably. 
 
 " Oh, Zaidee ! I don't want to get down there 
 into that white water. It smells so loud, and I 'd 
 get my feet all wet, and my dress wet, too." 
 Helen was one of the children whom dirt dis- 
 tresses, and no soil ever seemed to cling to her 
 clothes or hands. Zaidee was not in the least 
 particular, or, perhaps, she would not have 
 lunched on woolly worms. 
 
 " But I 've got to get out, Helen," she per- 
 sisted. " I 'm all sticky inside. I don't like it. 
 Please jump in and boost me out ; " for the 
 problem of getting Helen out never occurred to 
 either of these young philosophers. 
 
 Helen looked very unwilling, but she was too 
 used to doing as Zaidee ordered to object further ; 
 she slowly put one leg over the edge of the tank 
 till her foot touched the whey. Then she shiv-
 
 A BATH IN CURDS AND WHEY. 73 
 
 ered, and hesitated. Zaidee took hold of her leg 
 for fear she would draw it back, but, pulling it 
 a little harder than she intended, Helen immedi- 
 ately fell over on to Zaidee, who, unable to keep 
 her footing on the smooth tin bottom, took a 
 second plunge, dragging Helen with her. 
 
 Then two curded and wheyey heads arose. 
 
 " Oh, Helen, you look so funny ! " said Zaidee, 
 as Helen spluttered in her turn. " Does n't it 
 feel awful nasty ? And see how funny these little 
 stones look now ! " 
 
 The curd being pretty thoroughly churned 
 up now, with the gyrations of the two children, 
 it was settling in a smooth, even layer over the 
 top of the whey. Zaidee slapped and splashed 
 it about in high glee, perfectly satisfied to stay 
 in the tank any length of time, now that she had 
 Helen beside her there. 
 
 Just then steps sounded on the planks outside, 
 and the voices of men were heard. 
 
 " Great guns ! Who left this 'ere spigot a-run- 
 nin' ! " exclaimed one, coming hastily forward. 
 " Look at the whey goin' galumphin out. Suthin' 
 must hev gorn bust." 
 
 A breathless silence settled on Zaidee and 
 Helen.
 
 74 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " There warn't nothin' a-runnin' when I went 
 off to dinner," said another, " and I was the last 
 feller out." 
 
 The next moment the astonished men were 
 gazing at the pair of guilty - looking little mer- 
 maids, who wore curds for seaweeds. Helen's 
 floating golden hair, all stringy with whey, was 
 a funnier sight even than Zaidee's short plastered 
 locks. The two frightened, dirty, streaming little 
 faces, were raised appealingly. 
 
 " Wai, I vum ! We 've caught suthin' in 
 this cheese, for sure," said one man, coming 
 nearer. 
 
 "We failed in," said Zaidee, regaining her 
 courage, which never long deserted her. " We 
 don't like this white water, and it 's all smelly. 
 Please take us out." 
 
 " I swan," said the other man. " Where did 
 you come from, young uns ? " 
 
 " We live at the beach, at grandma's. Take 
 us out, please. Take Helen first." 
 
 "What are you doin' around here, then, 
 a-tumblin' into our vats, and a-spilin' good curds 
 and whey ? You don't suppose we want to 
 flavour it with little gals, do you?" 
 
 Zaidee was n't sure of anything but that she
 
 A BATH IN CURDS AND WHEY. 75 
 
 wanted to get out of her new bath-tub, so she 
 only repeated : 
 
 " Please take us out, Mr. Man, and we won't 
 fall in again, ever, 'cause we don't like this white 
 water, truly we don't. There are such funny 
 little snow stones in it. We like really truly 
 water best. Please take us out." 
 
 " Was it you turned my spigot ? " demanded 
 her jailer, very sternly. 
 
 Zaidee quaked. She had forgotten about turn- 
 ing the spigot. 
 
 " We won't ever turn it again," she promised, 
 hastily. 
 
 " Oh, come, Steve, take the kid out," said the 
 other man. 
 
 " Ef it was one of our children they 'd get a 
 trouncin', but they belong to some of them city 
 folks down by the beach. Them city children 
 dunno nothin' can't expect 'em to. Come, 
 young uns," and, in a moment, Zaidee and Helen 
 stood on the planks. 
 
 " Sech capers ! " grumbled the other man, 
 setting down the dripping little figures he had 
 lifted out. " Hull batch spiled. Now, scoot." 
 And the children hastily scooted, leaving a 
 milky track behind.
 
 76 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 They had no idea of the way home, but, as 
 Zaidee was not ready to return yet, that did not 
 trouble her. Once outside of the cheese factory 
 they got leaves and wiped off each other's drip- 
 ping faces and hair, as best they could. 
 
 " My shoes are all soppy," said Helen, tiptoe- 
 ing along, uncomfortably. 
 
 " Let 's take 'em off," said Zaidee, instantly, 
 sitting down and tugging at the wet button- 
 holes, which would not yield to her small fin- 
 gers. Helen's were loose, and unbuttoned easily. 
 When she got her shoes off, however, she found 
 she could not walk, for the sticks and prickles 
 on the ground hurt her tender feet. 
 
 " I '11 have to put my shoes on again," she 
 said. " The palms of my feet hurt so. Don't 
 take yours off, Zaidee." 
 
 So Zaidee got up out of the little pool of 
 whey that had dripped from her dress while she 
 had been sitting, and after Helen had, with some 
 difficulty, crowded her feet into her wet shoes 
 again, the children started off in search of a 
 new adventures. The hot sun on their clothes 
 was fast making them very unpleasant objects 
 to a sensitive nose, but they were getting used to 
 the odour of sour milk.
 
 A BATH IN CURDS AND WHEY. 77 
 
 There was a little foot-bridge above the dam, 
 for on the other side of the stream stood a little 
 sawmill. The children ran across the bridge, 
 gaily. Back of the sawmill were high heaps of 
 delightful yellow sawdust. 
 
 " See those beautiful yellow hills ! " cried 
 Zaidee, rapturously, running forward and throw- 
 ing herself full length into one, bringing a cloud 
 of yellow powder about her. " It 's awfully 
 nice, Helen ; come on." 
 
 Helen, nothing loth, came on, and in a mo- 
 ment the children were wallowing in the soft, 
 light dust. In the somewhat damp state of their 
 clothes, the immediate result can be imagined. 
 
 " You look just like a woolly worm, Helen," 
 said Zaidee, gleefully. " You 're all fuzzy with 
 sawdust. Lie down and I '11 bury you all up." 
 
 Helen obediently sat down, and Zaidee heaped 
 a yellow mound over her. 
 
 "You're like a yellow Santa Claus," cried 
 Zaidee, as Helen emerged, presently, somewhat 
 smothered. " Now, bury me ! " 
 
 " I love to feel it all running down my back 
 like ants," Zaidee said, wriggling, but enjoying 
 the sensation, as Helen let the dry dust drop 
 through her fingers on her head.
 
 78 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 A little later, Will, running through the 
 woods, came past the sawmill, and stopped to 
 listen, at the sound of children's voices. Follow- 
 ing this, he immediately discovered two strange 
 looking objects, rolling, with shrieks of laughter, 
 down the sawdust heaps. 
 
 " You 're a pretty pair of kids," he said, ap- 
 proaching them. " Scaring people into fits, for 
 two hours ! By Jove ! where have you been ? " 
 he broke off, holding his nose, as he drew 
 nearer. 
 
 " Let 's go home, now ; I 'm hungry," was all 
 the answer Zaidee deigned. 
 
 And so it happened that just as auntie and 
 grandma drove up in front of the gate the first 
 thing they saw was two remarkable little figures 
 coming slowly around the house, golden hair 
 and black all of a colour, faces begrimed with 
 dust and streaked with sour milk, draggled 
 dresses, with plasters of sawdust here and there, 
 and odorous, but the less said about that, the 
 better.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BEAR ISLAND. 
 
 EUNICE and Edna were devoted little friends. 
 Edna came just between the two sisters. But, 
 as she had always been somewhat delicate, 
 Cricket's tireless energy often wearied her, 
 and Eunice's naturally quieter temperament 
 suited her much better. Edna was more de- 
 liberate in everything than her little cousins 
 were, more literal, less full of fun and frolic, 
 and sometimes fretful under the mere burden of 
 not feeling quite well and strong, as they always 
 did. But she was neither selfish nor exacting, 
 as delicate children often are ; she was always 
 gentle and polite, never reckless and forgetful of 
 consequences, as Cricket so often was, and so 
 she made an excellent balance for her little 
 cousins. 
 
 Cricket sometimes found herself rather in the 
 cold, when Eunice and Edna were together, 
 however, for Edna loved to get Eunice down in 
 some cool, shady corner, or under the rocks on 
 the beach, to chatter or do fancy work together.
 
 80 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Cricket thought this was dreadfully stupid, and 
 whenever the other girls settled themselves for 
 what Edna called a " cozy hour," she would slip 
 off by herself, to find the boys, or go off with 
 old Billy, with whom she had struck up such a 
 comical friendship, for he followed her round 
 like a big dog, and permitted all sorts of liber- 
 ties with his possessions from her, that he was 
 very chary of allowing the others. Or else she 
 would go alone for a scamper on Mopsie, or 
 even perch herself up on a branch of some tree 
 in the orchard, and pore over the pages of her 
 beloved " Little Women," or some other of her 
 favourites. Reading was the sole sitting-down 
 occupation that Cricket did not think was intol- 
 erably stupid, and a sheer waste of time. For- 
 tunately, she always had boundless resources of 
 amusement within herself, and she would not 
 have been lonely on a desert island. 
 
 " Come for a row, girls," said Eunice, the next 
 morning. " The water is like glass." 
 
 " Suppose we row over to Bear Island," said 
 Edna. I '11 take my embroidery, and you can 
 take a book and read to me, Eunice. If we take 
 the boat off the boys can't get to us and tease us." 
 
 "All right," assented Eunice. "We'll take
 
 BEAR ISLAND. 81 
 
 the ' Light-house Girl.' I 'm dying to finish it. 
 Cricket, you bring your knitting, won't you, and 
 we '11 take some cookies and things to eat, and 
 stay all the morning." 
 
 " ' Not mush,' as baby says," responded Cricket, 
 with decision. " Think I 'm going to waste this 
 glorious day, knitting washrags ? " with ineffable 
 scorn. " You two old grandmothers can knit 
 and read all you want to. I 've too much else to 
 do." 
 
 " Cricket is afraid she '11 get her washrag done, 
 if she works on it," laughed Eunice. 
 
 " Well, what if I am ? " returned Cricket, de- 
 fensively. " As long as I have that on hand, 
 nobody can ask me to do anything else. If I 'm 
 careful how I work on it, I can make it last till 
 I 'm grown up." 
 
 They all laughed at Cricket's scheme. Her 
 knitting was a standing joke. Mamma had in- 
 sisted on her learning how to knit, when she was 
 quite small, telling her that it would be a very 
 useful accomplishment when she was grown up, 
 and that it was very much easier to learn to knit 
 quickly, if one learns very young. So Cricket 
 had toiled her way through a pair of reins for 
 Kenneth, and had also accomplished a red and
 
 82 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 white striped washrag for Helen. Her present 
 undertaking was a blue and white one for Zaidee. 
 It was now a year old. 
 
 " If Zaidee was in need of that washrag, she 'd 
 be a blackamoor before she gets it," said Eu- 
 nice. 
 
 " She is n't starving for it," returned Cricket, 
 comfortably. "And I've dropped so many 
 stitches, anyway, and could n't find them, that it 
 isn't much but holes. The knitting only just 
 holds the holes together. 'Liza will have to darn 
 it a lot, before she can use it for Zaidee." 
 
 " You 're old enough to like to sew and em- 
 broider things," said Edna, reprovingly. 
 
 " No, I 'm not," said Cricket, quickly. " When 
 I have to wear plaguy long dresses, and when I 
 can't play football, nor climb trees, nor perform 
 on the trapeze, nor do anything nice, then I '11 
 get some glasses and store teeth, and sit down 
 and consolate myself by knitting and sewing all 
 day. Ugh ! I wish I were a boy ! I mean, 
 sometimes I wish I were," with a quick glance 
 around, to see if those omnipresent cousins of 
 hers were within earshot, for, before them, noth- 
 ing would have induced her to admit anything 
 of the kind.
 
 BEAR ISLAND. 83 
 
 " You and I will go, then, Edna," said Eunice. 
 " I '11 run down and get the boat ready, while 
 you bring the cushions, and get something to 
 eat for a lunch. Better come, Cricket." 
 
 " I '11 tell you what I '11 do. I '11 row you 
 over, and then I '11 row round a little, for fun, 
 myself, while you two are having a nice stupid 
 time, all by yourselves. You can call me when 
 you want me to come back. 
 
 Oh, I '11 tell you what let 's do. Let 's play 
 we're shipwrecked. You get some luncheon, 
 Edna, lots of it, and we '11 have a very exciting 
 time." 
 
 " You always want to play something," said 
 Edna, who could n't quite understand how 
 Cricket could always change the aspect of 
 everything even of things she had to do, that 
 she did n't like by the magic formula, " Let 's 
 play." 
 
 " It 's so much more fun to play things, than 
 just plain do them," Cricket contented herself 
 with saying now. 
 
 " I '11 run the boat down, Eunice, if you '11 
 go with Edna, and get all the things, cushions 
 and books and luncheon, and don't forget your 
 precious work, Edna," and Cricket skipped
 
 84 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 off to the dock, while the girls went to the 
 house. 
 
 '.' Shall we be the ' Swiss Family Robinson,' or 
 ' The Young Crusoes,' or shall we be a new set 
 altogether ? " asked Cricket, when they were all 
 afloat. 
 
 " A new set, I say," answered Eunice. " We 've 
 played ' Swiss Family ' so much I 'm tired of it. 
 Let us be two boys, and Edna our sister." 
 
 " No, our grandmother," said Cricket, soberly. 
 " It 's more appropriate. She likes to knit so 
 much." 
 
 "I won't be a grandmother," said Edna, 
 decidedly. " If I can't be a sister, I won't 
 play." 
 
 " I was only in fun. I 'd just as soon that 
 you 'd be a sister," said Cricket, pacifically. " I 
 was only joking. We 've escaped from a burn- 
 ing vessel, you know, and every one else is 
 either burned or drowned. We 've provisions 
 for a month, if we don't eat too much, and 
 we're in the South Sea Islands. South Sea 
 Islands sound nice and shipwrecky, don't you 
 think so?" 
 
 " Splendid. No sail is in sight," went on Eunice, 
 striking in, " and a wild waste of waters stretch
 
 BEAR ISLAND. 85 
 
 on every side," quoting freely, as she swept her 
 hand around the expanse of the wide, calm bay, 
 dotted with white sails and rowboats. 
 
 " A savage, rock - bound coast appears before 
 us," she added, as Cricket's muscular little arms 
 sent the light boat along towards the small 
 island ahead of them. It consisted of little 
 more than a mass of rocks, with a bit of shelv- 
 ing beach on the west side, and, here and there, 
 a scrubby pine. 
 
 But it was a picturesque spot, and the children 
 were very fond of coming over there, since no 
 one else ever seemed to think of it, and they had 
 it to themselves. 
 
 " Methinks this coast looks bare, indeed," said 
 Cricket, in her character of shipwrecked mariner, 
 as she rested on her oars. " Shall we land here, 
 brother?" 
 
 " 'T is the only land in sight," returned Eunice, 
 shielding her eyes, and looking forward. " What 
 say you, sister ? " 
 
 Edna giggled. " Suppose there are cannibals 
 there ? " she asked. " 1 don't want to be eaten 
 up alive." 
 
 " We will defend you, with our last breath," 
 promised Eunice, valiantly, as they shot up on
 
 86 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 the pebbly bit of beach. " Shall we explore it, 
 brother ? " 
 
 " You explore, and I '11 row around the island, 
 and see if there are any signs of cannibals or 
 savages. Perhaps I '11 find a settlement of white 
 people," she said, as she pushed off with her oar, 
 after the girls had disembarked with the bag- 
 gage. 
 
 "Don't forget to come back, if you do," called 
 Edna, over her shoulder. 
 
 " I '11 row off," said Cricket, conveniently deaf 
 to this remark, " and rencounter," aiming at re- 
 connoitre, " and if you are in any trouble, give 
 the call, and wave a handkerchief on a stick. 
 Perhaps I '11 row back to the burning vessel, and 
 see if I can pick up any one who is floating 
 around." 
 
 The call was a vigorous whoop, that had been 
 long ago adopted. It consisted in drawing a 
 deep breath, and then crying, " Wah-whoo-wah ! 
 wah - whoo - wah ! Crick - et ! Crick - et ! wah- 
 whoo-wah! " putting in the name of the person 
 wanted. 
 
 Eunice and Edna watched Cricket off, and 
 then sauntered slowly across the island, to a dear 
 little spot, their favourite nook. It was a smooth
 
 LANDING ON BEAR ISLAND
 
 BEAR ISLAND. 89 
 
 bit of sand, under the shadow of a pine, and well 
 sheltered by rugged overhanging rocks. They 
 had an uninterrupted view of the bay out- 
 ward, with the long tongue of land that partly 
 enclosed it, and the lighthouse standing on the 
 rocky point. Marbury lay behind them, out of 
 sight. 
 
 They settled themselves comfortably, in the 
 cushions, with the rocks at their backs. Edna 
 took her work, a linen cover for her bureau, 
 which she was embroidering exquisitely. Her 
 deft little fingers accomplished really beautiful 
 work, and she loved to do it. 
 
 She had done outline work when her tiny 
 fingers were hardly firm enough to grasp the 
 needle, and her kindergarten sewing, when she 
 was a small child, had been the delight of her 
 teachers, and the envy of her little companions. 
 Eunice was fond of her needle, too, though she 
 was not equal to such deft workmanship as 
 Edna was. 
 
 "You do such lovely things," she said, 
 now, taking up the strip of linen, on which 
 graceful maidenhair fern was growing rapidly. 
 "I don't see where you get time to do so 
 much."
 
 90 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " I do suppose it makes a difference that, when 
 I 'm at home, I have n't any one to play with, as 
 you have. Probably you and Cricket play games 
 together, while I am doing my fancy work. 
 What do you do in the winter evenings at 
 home?" 
 
 " Different things," answered Eunice, lifting 
 up the soft, pale-green silks, admiringly. " Some- 
 times I study. Not often, though, for papa 
 does n't like us to study in the evening much. 
 You see, our school is out at one, and lunch is 
 at half-past. Then, till half-past four, we can 
 do anything we like out-of-doors. We skate, if 
 there is any skating in the park, we coast down 
 hill on Sawyer Street, or walk, or papa takes us 
 to drive. 
 
 " In spring and fall days, we often walk out 
 to Manton Lake for wild flowers or chestnuts. 
 But we must always be in the house at half-past 
 four in winter, and at five when the days get 
 longer. Then we always study in the upper 
 hall till quarter after six, and then we get ready 
 for dinner." 
 
 " How nice it is always to have somebody to 
 do things with. I am sure I could study better 
 if I had somebody to talk things over with.
 
 BEAR ISLAND. 91 
 
 Then if you do your studying in the afternoon, 
 what do you do in the evening ? " 
 
 " After dinner we are all in the back parlour 
 for awhile, papa, and Donald, and Marjorie, and 
 everybody, and we have fun then, I tell you, 
 if there is n't any company. We play games, 
 or papa plays with us. Then if I have n't 
 gotten through my lessons in the afternoon, 
 papa lets me study for half an hour. But we 
 never can study after half-past eight, no matter 
 what." 
 
 " But suppose you did n't study hard in the 
 afternoon, and can't get through by half-past 
 eight ? " asked Edna. 
 
 " Oh, but we must study hard," said well- 
 trained Eunice, surprised. " Papa hates 
 dawdling." 
 
 "Does your mother help you with your 
 lessons ? " 
 
 " Not much. Sometimes she explains some- 
 thing we don't understand, but papa says we 
 should not need help. Well, then, generally we 
 read for a little while, or mamma reads to us, and 
 if she does, I embroider something. Sometimes 
 we sew on Saturday mornings. What do you 
 do?"
 
 92 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Nothing, much," sighed Edna, dolefully. 
 " It 's so stupid to be an only daughter. The 
 boys are older, you see, and they have each 
 other, and they do study very hard in the 
 winter. You see, I 've no one to go out 
 with, after luncheon, unless I go with some 
 of the girls. Of course mamma often takes 
 me with her, but lots of times she can't. 
 And if she 's out when I come in, the house 
 is so stupid. And evenings I just sit and do 
 fancy work, all by myself, if mamma is invited 
 out to dinner, or anything, and she is invited 
 out such a lot. I wish you were my sister, 
 Eunice." 
 
 " Poor Edna ! I wish you were my sister, and 
 could live with me all the time. I don't think 
 I could leave Cricket and the rest to come and 
 live with you. Wouldn't it be nice if one of 
 your brothers was only a sister ? I don't think 
 boys mind nearly as much about being the only 
 one. And sisters are such a comfort. Let 's 
 read now. I peeked ahead, and Jessica is an 
 only child, too." 
 
 In the interest of their story the time slipped 
 by. They munched some cookies, but decided 
 to wait till Cricket's return before eating a
 
 BEAR ISLAND. 93 
 
 regular luncheon. They always provided 
 themselves with luncheons on the slightest 
 pretext. 
 
 " Is n't it time for Cricket to turn up ? " said 
 Eunice, at last, suddenly interrupting herself. 
 " She 's been gone perfect ages. I really believe 
 her cannibals have eaten her up." 
 
 " If they have," replied Edna, decidedly, " they 
 would soon repent it. Nobody could digest her, 
 for she would fly around so. I believe even the 
 pieces of her would jump up and down in their 
 stomachs." 
 
 "I thought she would just row around the 
 island, and then come back and hail us, at all 
 events," said Eunice, laying down her book and 
 standing up to give the call. The " wah-whoo- 
 wah ! " rang across the water, but brought no 
 answering cry. They gave it again and again, 
 with no better success. 
 
 " What geese we were to let that child go 
 away with the boat ! " exclaimed Edna, vexedly. 
 " We should have known better. Likely as not 
 she 's rowed over to Plymouth and forgotten us 
 entirely. Let 's go up and see if we can see her 
 from the top of the rocks." 
 
 Accordingly they climbed to the highest point.
 
 94 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 It was high noon now, by the sun, and very hot. 
 Not a sail was in sight, nor even a rowboat 
 anywhere. 
 
 Everybody had evidently been driven in by 
 the heat, which was intense. The tide was 
 going out, and soon a mud-flat would lie between 
 them and the home shore. 
 
 " Gracious, isn't it sizzling hot! " cried Eunice, 
 shading her eyes. " The heat just quavers 
 up from these rocks. I believe a coffee-pot 
 would boil if you put it on top of my head. 
 Where is Cricket ? " 
 
 " The tide is going out very fast," said Edna, 
 anxiously. " Look at the high-water mark. If 
 we 're not off here in less than half an hour we 
 have to wait till the tide is up again. That 's a 
 nice prospect, too, to stay here and broil all the 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Horrors ! " cried Eunice. " I like to stay 
 here when I want to, but I don't want to be 
 made to. When could we get off, then?" for 
 Eunice knew much less accurately the times and 
 tides than Edna, who always spent her summers 
 at Marbury. 
 
 " It was high tide at eight this morning, so it 
 won't be entirely out till two. But you know
 
 BEAR ISLAND. 95 
 
 there is about an hour and a half before ebb 
 tide that the flats are bare, and, of course, 
 it's the same time after that before enough 
 water comes in to float a boat. I don't believe 
 it 's more than twelve now. Think of staying 
 here till, say, four o'clock. Let 's call again. 
 She might be over on the other side of Clark's 
 Island." 
 
 " Wah-whoo-wah ! Wah-whoo-wah ! Come 
 back, Cricket ! Wah - whoo - wah ! " Eunice 
 sent her clear, strong voice ringing across the 
 smooth waters, but with no better success than 
 before. 
 
 "You don't suppose she's purposely hiding 
 somewhere, do you ? " asked Edna, doubtfully. 
 
 "No, indeed," returned Eunice, promptly. 
 " She 's only forgotten, if anything, unless some- 
 thing has happened to her," she added, some- 
 what anxiously. 
 
 " Nothing could happen in Marbury Bay," 
 replied Edna, positively. " It 's the safest old 
 hole. And since we are not really in the South 
 Sea Islands, there aren't any cannibals to eat 
 her up." 
 
 The island was only about a mile and a half 
 from shore, and they could plainly see grandma's
 
 96 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 house on the Neck. Not a soul was in sight, not 
 even Eliza and the children. 
 
 " Let 's wave a handkerchief," suggested 
 Eunice, looking for hers, " for the boys may see 
 it and come out for us." 
 
 " It 's not much use," said Edna, " for I don't 
 believe any one would notice a little white 
 handkerchief fluttering over here, and, besides, 
 I'm getting dreadfully afraid that there isn't 
 time for any one to pull out here and get us in 
 before the tide would be so far out that we 
 would stick in the mud. You see the bottom 
 is so flat that the water goes out very quickly. 
 But let 's try a handkerchief." 
 
 " I have n't any with me," said Eunice. " Take 
 yours." 
 
 " Bother ! I have n't either. Oh, there 's a 
 boat coming past. If that man would take us 
 in, we might just get to the shore. Wave some- 
 thing. Call! Call!" 
 
 The girls shouted vigorously, but the little 
 rowboat aggravatingly kept on its way, the 
 oarsman having his back towards them. Then 
 he turned his course a little, keeping in the 
 channel where the water was deeper. 
 
 " What can we wave ? "
 
 BEAR ISLAND. 97 
 
 " Take your work, Edna. Tie it to a stick." 
 
 "Tie my work to a stick? Why, it would 
 ruin it." 
 
 "No, it wouldn't. What if it did? We 
 don't want to stay here all day ; " and Eunice 
 caught the linen scarf from Edna's half-unwill- 
 ing hand, and, tying it to a stick, waved it 
 furiously. 
 
 " Oh, dear, I wonder if it will ruin it ? Wave 
 harder, Eunice. Wah-whoo-wah ! Why don't you 
 turn, whoever you are ! I wonder if I can iron 
 it out," went on poor Edna, distracted between 
 the fear of injury to her beloved work and her 
 desire to get off the island. But the little boat 
 pulled swiftly down the channel, its owner evi- 
 dently not desirous of being caught himself on 
 the mud -flats, and was soon a speck on the 
 water. 
 
 " Where can Cricket be ? " wondered Eunice, 
 for the hundredth time. " Edna, I am afraid 
 she 's drowned or something," for she began to 
 be much more worried over Cricket's non-ap- 
 pearance than at the prospect of spending a 
 few more hours than they had intended on 
 the island. 
 
 "I'm sure nothing has happened to her.
 
 98 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Cricket will never be drowned, don't be afraid. 
 I think she 's just plain gone off and forgotten 
 us that bad girl ! Won't I make the boys 
 tease her for this ! There ! perhaps I can iron 
 that out smooth."
 
 " THE EXILES
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE EXILES. 
 
 EUNICE made a telescope of her hands and 
 studied the shore intently. 
 
 " Is n't that our boat, now, drawn up by those 
 rocks ? No, not near the docks, but up to the 
 right." 
 
 Edna followed her gaze. 
 
 "I do think it is ! Yes, and that 's Billy, 
 is n't it ? and those little things are the twins. 
 And Eunice ! that 's Cricket, this instant ! See 
 she 's standing up now. I know her by the 
 broad white flannel collar on her blue dress. 
 Now they are coming down to the beach. She 
 did row over for something and sat down to 
 talk, and forgot us. What crazy lunatics we 
 were to let her go off with the boat ! " 
 
 " Cricket has n't forgotten anything serious 
 since she forgot mamma's invitation last spring. 
 You see, she never thought about the tide going 
 out, and meant to come back and get us later. 
 It takes so long to get used to the tide. I do
 
 102 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 wish it would settle upon some time of day, and 
 keep to it. Don't you ? It 's a great nuisance." 
 
 " I guess I do," replied Edna, with inelegant 
 emphasis. " If I had my way, the tide should n't 
 go out but once a day, and that's at night. 
 These ugly old mud-flats that have to be seen 
 some time during every day are the one thing 
 that spoil Marbury. It's so pretty when the 
 bay is full. But, Eunice, we 've got to make up 
 our minds to stay here and broil, this whole 
 afternoon. Even if Cricket should start this 
 minute, she could n't get here. Do you see that 
 broad, smooth place, with the water rippling a 
 little on each side ? That means that there is a 
 mud-flat there, and it will be bare in about ten 
 minutes. Oh, goodness gracious me! enchant- 
 ing prospect ! " and Edna plumped herself down 
 on the rock in despair. 
 
 " It 's no worse really than many a time when 
 we 've been over here and staid five or six hours 
 and meant to," said Eunice, philosophically, 
 " only we never happened to be caught and obliged 
 to stay. And it might be worse," she added, 
 cheerfully. " We have luncheon, for one thing. 
 You know we stayed here all day, once." 
 
 " But then we expected to," said Edna, look-
 
 THE EXILES. 103 
 
 ing very unresigned. " We had made up our 
 minds to." 
 
 " Very well, then," said Eunice, brightly, 
 " let us make up our minds to stay, now. Let 's 
 play we want to, and meant to all the time. 
 We '11 eat our luncheon, and then you can em- 
 broider and I'll read to you some more. Or 
 let's go on playing that we're shipwrecked, and 
 that Cricket has gone back with a raft to the 
 ship, to bring some things back. Of course, 
 that would take all day." 
 
 "If the ship was burned," objected Edna, 
 " there would n't be any wreck to bring things 
 from." 
 
 " We '11 play it rained and put out the fire," 
 returned Eunice, imperturbably. " Plenty of 
 ways to fix it. Was n't it fortunate we rescued 
 your work and my book from the wreck," she 
 went on, changing her tone. " And don't let 's 
 stay here and bake in the sun any longer. I 'm 
 just drizzling away. Come back to the rocks 
 and eat our luncheon. There 's evidently no use 
 waiting any longer for Cricket," she added, with 
 a laugh. " We '11 have a lovely afternoon, and 
 we '11 pretend we meant to stay all the time." 
 
 " Oh, pretend ! I believe you girls would
 
 104 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 pretend if you were going to be hung. You 'd 
 play you liked it," said Edna, laughing, her- 
 self. 
 
 " Why not ? " answered Eunice, sturdily. " It 
 makes things lots easier. Besides, it's more 
 fun. Do you suppose auntie and grandma will 
 worry when we 're not back to dinner ? " 
 
 " No, because I told mamma where we were 
 going, and Cricket will have to tell them we 're 
 safe, and that she 's forgotten us. We can't be 
 run away with very well, and nothing can hap- 
 pen to us here. And, why, Eunice ! look ! is n't 
 that Cricket, now, rowing towards us ? No, this 
 way. Not far from shore." 
 
 " It is ! it is ! Wah - whoo - wah ! wah - whoo- 
 wah! Naughty, naughty Cricket! wah-whoo- 
 wah ! " shrieked Eunice, clapping her hands. 
 
 But Edna instantly put her hands to her 
 mouth to form a trumpet, and called with all her 
 might : 
 
 " Go back, Cricket ! go back ! You '11 get 
 aground." 
 
 "Wah -whoo -wah!" came back faintly over 
 the water, and they could see the little figure 
 bend to the oar. 
 
 "Go back!" screamed Edna, fairly dancing
 
 THE EXILES. 105 
 
 up and down in her excitement, for she knew 
 what would happen better than Eunice did. 
 But Cricket evidently did not understand. She 
 looked over her shoulder, waved her oar, and 
 pulled on. 
 
 " Oh, dear" cried Edna, " see, that mud-flat 
 back of her will be all bare in two minutes, and 
 she doesn't know it, and she's pulling right 
 across it. Oh, oh, she 's aground ! " 
 
 And, indeed, the last stroke of the oars had 
 landed the boat on the treacherous bank, where 
 it stuck fast. The girls watched her, eagerly, 
 as the oars came up, dripping with mud, in her 
 frantic efforts to push over it. 
 
 " Why doesn't she sit still ?" exclaimed Edna, 
 anxiously. " She '11 get the boat wedged fast ! " 
 
 But, by some good luck, one final shove of the 
 oars sent the light boat through the yielding 
 mud, and into a little depression beyond, where 
 the water still flowed. Cricket pulled with all 
 her strength, realizing now the inconvenience of 
 being stuck fast. There was still another flat, 
 which was fast uncovering itself, between her 
 and the island, but if she could only get through 
 that, there was water enough beyond to float her 
 to the island. That had a rock foundation, and
 
 106 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 the water was unexpectedly deep around it. But, 
 unfortunately, the next mud-flat was too wide to 
 get over it before the swiftly ebbing tide left it 
 entirely bare, and so there, within five hundred 
 feet of the island, she finally stuck, immovably. 
 The girls ran down to the edge of the island, 
 waving their hands, and shouting. 
 
 "I guess I 'm stuck ! " called Cricket, 
 standing up, carefully, and turning around. For- 
 tunately her voice could just be heard. 
 
 Eunice and Edna laughed at the obvious truth 
 of her remark. 
 
 " I should think she was stuck ! What a little 
 goose to try to get out here when the tide was 
 so low ! " 
 
 " She is n't used to it," said Eunice, defensively. 
 " See, now. Five minutes ago there seemed to 
 be water enough in the bay, and now look at it ! " 
 
 It was a sight to look at, for the broad mud^ 
 flats were now visible in every direction, while 
 streams of water still lay in the deeper depres- 
 sions. 
 
 "I never noticed before, in all my life, how 
 quickly the tide goes out," added Eunice. 
 
 " We never happened to be caught on a desert 
 island before," said Edna, " when you have to
 
 THE EXILES. 107 
 
 notice it. I suppose we get so in the habit of 
 calculating upon it, and knowing by the looks of 
 the water how long it will take, that we forget 
 you don't know so well. But what will Cricket 
 do ? Think of her staying out there for about 
 four hours, in that broiling sun, and nothing to 
 eat. Gracious, she has the worst of it." 
 
 " Could n't she take off her shoes and stock- 
 ings, and wade in through the mud ? " suddenly 
 asked Eunice, brightening. 
 
 "No, indeed. She'd sink down to China, I 
 guess. There's just about no bottom at all to 
 this mud, if you step in it. Keep perfectly 
 still Cricket," she hallooed, suddenly, through 
 her hands, as Cricket shows signs of restlessness. 
 
 " What will she do ? " groaned Eunice. " It 
 seems perfectly heartless to sit down and eat 
 our luncheon, when she can't get a mouthful." 
 
 " But our not eating won't do her any good," 
 objected Edna, very sensibly. 
 
 " Anyway, I 'm not going to eat anything, 
 with my Cricket out there, starving," cried Eu- 
 nice, determinedly. 
 
 " But Eunice ! how silly ! It won't help 
 Cricket any. She would n't like to have you not 
 eat."
 
 108 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " I sha' n't eat a mouthful," replied Eunice, 
 obstinately, shaking her head. 
 
 " Well, then, I '11 tell you what we '11 do. 
 We '11 eat just one tiny sandwich apiece, so we 
 won't just die with hunger, then we'll call to 
 Cricket that we won't eat the rest till she can 
 get in here. Then we '11 eat it before we go back." 
 
 " Yes, I '11 do that," answered Eunice, after 
 considering a moment. And then they called to 
 Cricket. 
 
 We won't eat any luncheon till 
 you get here. Can you wait?" 
 
 " Have to ! " called back Cricket, cheerfully. 
 Will it be long ? " 
 
 " Three or four hours ! " answered 
 Edna. " Keep as still as you can, 
 so the boat won't sink. Can she 
 keep still ? " added Edna, to Eunice. 
 
 " I think so," answered Eunice, somewhat 
 doubtfully, it must be confessed. Then they sat 
 down, and, opening their luncheon, selected a 
 small sandwich each. It really took considerable 
 self-control not to satisfy two hearty appetites, 
 then and there, for the luncheon looked very 
 tempting. But Eunice resolutely put the basket 
 away.
 
 THE EXILES. 109 
 
 What will auntie think ? " asked Eunice, 
 anxiously, glancing toward the shore. " It 's 
 dinner-time, I guess." 
 
 " There are the boys, now," cried Edna. " Yes, 
 it 's dinner-time, and they 've come down to see 
 where we are." She stood up and waved her 
 bureau cover. The boys, catching sight of the 
 signal, waved frantically in return. Presently, 
 all the others, grandma, auntie, old Billy, and 
 the children, were seen to gather there. The 
 boys ran up and down the beach, then all the fig- 
 ures clustered together, evidently holding a 
 council of war. 
 
 "There's just nothing to be done," sighed 
 Edna, " except to wait for the water." 
 
 "Wait for the water, and we'll all take a 
 ride," sang Eunice. " It 's really much harder 
 for them to be anxious about us, and about 
 Cricket, than for us to be here. And hardest 
 of all for Cricket. For pity's sake ! what is the 
 child doing ? " 
 
 In watching the shore people, they had for- 
 gotten for a moment the stranded boat and its 
 small occupant. As they looked again, they saw 
 she had stuck the oars in the mud, blade down, 
 and was now evidently lashing them to the oar-
 
 110 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 locks. This done, she stood up and slipped off 
 the blue flannel skirt of her little sailor suit, 
 standing up in her short white petticoat. She 
 hung the skirt by the hem over the oars, and 
 immediately she had a very fair substitute for 
 a tent, to shield her from the blazing sun. 
 Then, apparently quite contented, she sat down 
 in the bottom of the boat, adjusting the cushion 
 from the stern seat, for a back. She had her 
 face towards the island, and, when she was com- 
 fortably settled, she waved her hand, crying 
 out: 
 
 " Is n't this exciting ? I 'm playing 
 I 'm Marco Bozzaris in his shrouded 
 tent." 
 
 After their consultation, the shore people had 
 evidently decided there was nothing to be done 
 for the shipwrecked mariner and her exiled 
 companions, as presently every one went into 
 the house. 
 
 "Think of the soup and roast beef they're 
 devouring ! " sighed Eunice, with a thrill of 
 envy, but she stood fast to her resolution 
 not to eat luncheon till Cricket could have some, 
 too. 
 
 Fortunately, there was no special danger for
 
 THE EXILES. Ill 
 
 Cricket, unless she actually tumbled out of the 
 boat into the deep, soft mud, which she could 
 scarcely do, unless she deliberately jumped out, 
 so securely was the boat held. So the time 
 went on, and Eunice and Edna, after a while, 
 submitted to the inevitable, and resumed work 
 and reading, stopping now and then to look 
 towards Cricket, and call out sympathizing 
 messages. 
 
 " Is n't it nice I 'm near enough 
 to talk to you ? " called back this 
 little Mark Tapley once. 
 
 " Are you very hungry ? " shouted 
 Eunice, after a long lapse in this high -keyed 
 conversation. But there was no answer, and, 
 looking again, they saw that Cricket's head was 
 down on her arm, which was stretched out over 
 the seat. 
 
 " She 's actually gone to sleep ! " said Eunice, 
 in amazement. " Well, I never knew Cricket 
 to go to sleep in the daytime before in her 
 life." 
 
 " I should think she 'd do anything for vari- 
 ety," returned Edna. " If this is n't the longest 
 day that ever was ! I should think it was to- 
 morrow morning. It 's worse than that day last
 
 112 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 summer when we went blackberrying and came 
 home at ten in the morning, thinking it was six. 
 Do you remember ? " 
 
 " I should think I did ! I never had a chance 
 to forget it," answered Eunice, " between papa 
 and Donald. I suppose it was funny to them, 
 but I never could see how the time seems so 
 long to us." 
 
 Oh, look, look ! " cried Edna, suddenly. " Do 
 you see that little ripple where the water lies in 
 the channel ? The tide is turning at last. In 
 an hour or so, now, the water will be high enough 
 for Cricket to get over here at least, though 
 we can't get home for a long time yet." 
 
 If the time had dragged before, this last hour 
 fairly crawled. Eagerly the girls watched the 
 strengthening ripples and the eddying current 
 in the channel, as the water slowly crept higher 
 in the outer bay. Slowly the brown ooze became 
 a smooth, even, brown paste, and then, a few 
 minutes later, the usual transformation scene 
 took place. The bay was so protected by the 
 long arm of land that half surrounded it that 
 there was not only no surf, but no large waves 
 even. The first you knew, the deepening water 
 hid the ugly mud-flats, which were so level that
 
 THE EXILES. 113 
 
 only two or three inches of water were needed 
 to transform the bay into a thing of beauty. 
 
 " Cricket ! Cricket ! " shrieked both girls, in 
 eager chorus. " Wake up ! wake up ! the 
 tide's coming in. Crick et ! " 
 
 Cricket, evidently bewildered, sat up, and 
 looked around her, then grasped the situation. 
 Quickly she pulled down her tent, and restored 
 her skirt to its original use. She unlashed her 
 oars, and adjusted them in the oar-locks. 
 
 " Push off as soon as you can ! " 
 called Edna. " Rock the boat to loosen 
 -it." 
 
 Cricket obeyed instructions. She kept up a 
 steady swaying movement, dipping her oars 
 lightly in the deepening water. At last, like 
 Longfellow's ship, " she starts ! she moves ! " 
 
 " Hurrah ! " shouted Cricket, waving her oar, 
 and then applying it vigorously. " I 'm off ! " 
 
 One more determined shove and she was off, 
 and her boat floated in the hollow between her- 
 self and the island. It was but a moment's work 
 then to pull in shore. If the two sisters had 
 been parted for a year, they could not have 
 greeted each other more rapturously. They 
 rushed into each other's arms, kissing and hug-
 
 114 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 ging each other, while Edna declared she would 
 eat up all the luncheon if they did n't stop. 
 
 " If I 'm not starved ! " cried Cricket, eagerly 
 falling to as soon as the luncheon was opened. 
 " I almost thought I 'd eat my shoes out in the 
 boat. It was awfully good of you not to eat 
 anything till I got here." 
 
 " There 's enough to last us till we get home, 
 anyway," said Edna, munching away at the 
 sandwiches with much satisfaction. " Now tell 
 us, Cricket, what became of you ? " 
 
 " Nothing became of me. I thought I 'd row 
 over home for a drink, and old Billy and the 
 children were down on the beach, and I took 
 them out for a little row, and I played they were 
 castaways from the burning ship. Then I took 
 them in, and sat down to rest, and then I 
 thought it was time to come back for you. I 
 never thought about the tide, and there seemed 
 to be plenty of water around, and suddenly I 
 found the water had all turned into mud." 
 
 " Cricket, your stockings are all coming down," 
 interrupted Eunice. 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Cricket, coolly, stopping 
 long enough to produce her side -elastics from 
 her pocket. " I took off my stocking - coddies
 
 THE EXILES. 115 
 
 to tie the oars up with, to make my tent. Why, 
 I had lots of fun, girls. I could n't think of any 
 shipwrecked hero who was ever stuck in the 
 mud, so I played the mud was a desert, and that 
 I was Marco What 's - his - name in his shrouded 
 tent, and 
 
 " It was "the Turk, who was at midnight in his 
 shrouded tent," interrupted Eunice, again. 
 
 " Was it ? Well, I played it, anyway. Then 
 I put my head down on my arm to look like 
 him, and I must have gone to sleep, for the sun 
 was pretty hot, even under my tent, and it made 
 me dreadfully sleepy. Then I heard you call 
 me, and there was the water all around me. 
 Can't we start, now, Edna ? " 
 
 " We can't get over that last bar nearest the 
 shore, yet awhile," answered Edna, " but we can 
 start as soon as there is the least bit of water 
 over it, for by the time we get there the water 
 will be deep enough to float us." 
 
 " I don't care how long we stay, now," said 
 Eunice, contentedly, " since Cricket is here, and 
 not out there all alone. I '11 row in, Cricket." 
 
 " See, there are the boys running along the 
 shore, and beckoning. Probably they mean it 
 is safe to start now. Let's get ready. My
 
 116 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 goody, does n't it seem as if we had been here a 
 week?" 
 
 " Don't let 's come again till it 's high tide in 
 the middle of the day," said Eunice. "Here, 
 now we have the things all in." 
 
 " Is n't this boat a spectacle ?" said Eunice, 
 surveying its mud-splashed sides. " Won't the 
 boys give you a blessing, Miss Scricket ! " 
 
 "A blessing is a good thing to have," an- 
 swered Cricket, quite undisturbed, as she yielded 
 the oars to Eunice, and sat in the stern with Edna.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A NEW PLASTER. 
 
 " IT seems to me, my dear," said grandma, 
 standing on the piazza, and drawing on her 
 gloves, " that it is a very great risk to run to go 
 and leave these children to themselves for six 
 whole hours. If you could manage without me, 
 I think I'll stay at home, even now," and 
 grandma looked somewhat irresolutely at the 
 carriage, which was waiting at the gate to take 
 them to the station. 
 
 " I am afraid you must come, mother, on ac- 
 count of those business matters," Mrs. Somers 
 answered. " But the children will be all right, 
 I know. Eliza will look out for the small fry, 
 and the elders must look out for themselves," 
 she added, looking down at the three, Eunice, 
 Edna, and Cricket, with a smile. " Don't get 
 into any mischief, will you ? " 
 
 The girls looked insulted. 
 
 " The very idea, auntie ! " exclaimed Eunice. 
 " As if we ever got into mischief ! Nobody 
 looks after us especially, at Kayuna."
 
 118 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " And, consequently," said auntie, with a sly 
 smile, " you go to the cider-mill when you are 
 put in charge of the children, and get run away 
 with by the oxen." 
 
 Eunice got very red. 
 
 " Well, that was a great while ago, auntie, 
 when we were quite young," she said, with as 
 much dignity as if the occurrence auntie re- 
 ferred to was half a dozen years ago, instead of 
 one. " Anyway," changing the subject, " we '11 
 look after everything now, and you can stay till 
 the last train, if you want to." 
 
 " No, dear, thank you. We '11 come on the 
 5.10, I think, at any rate. Perhaps earlier, if 
 we accomplish all our business. There ! I did n't 
 put on my watch. Edna, will you run up-stairs 
 and get it, from my bureau or table ? I think I 
 laid it on the table. No, wait. Have you yours, 
 mother ? Never mind, then, Edna. But will 
 you please put it back in my drawer, when you 
 go up-stairs, dear ? Don't forget. Well, good- 
 by. Be good children," and with a kiss all 
 round, auntie and grandma got into the carriage. 
 
 " Good-by. Be sure and bring me some choc- 
 olate caramels," called Edna. 
 
 Auntie smiled, nodded, and waved her hand,
 
 A NEW PLASTER. 119 
 
 and then Luke turned the corner, and they rolled 
 away. 
 
 " The boys said that the tide would be right 
 for bathing, about eleven," Cricket said, after 
 they had watched them out of sight. " Come on, 
 it 's most time," and off they trooped for their 
 plunge. The children were already over at the 
 Cove, with Eliza, running about in their little 
 blue bathing-suits, though they generally went in 
 only ankle deep. Edna could swim well, and 
 Cricket had made good progress in the last week. 
 Eunice took to the water as naturally as a duck, 
 and, strange to say, had learned to swim well, 
 before Cricket did. 
 
 After their bath they came back to the house, 
 where Eunice and Cricket settled themselves on 
 the piazza, to write letters to the travellers. 
 Cricket kept a journal letter and scribbled in- 
 dustriously every day. Both Eunice and Cricket 
 had sometimes very homesick moments, when 
 papa and mamma seemed very far away, and 
 Cricket, in particular, occasionally conjured up 
 very gloomy possibilities of her pining away, 
 and dying of homesickness, before they returned, 
 so that when they should c<wne home, they would 
 find only her grave, covered with flowers. She
 
 120 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 even went so far, in one desperate moment, as to 
 compose a fitting epitaph for her tombstone, 
 which was to be of white marble, of course, with 
 an angel on top. 
 
 This was the epitaph. 
 
 " Oh, stranger, pause ! Beneath this mossy stone 
 Lies a poor child, who died, forsaken and alone. 
 Her mother far in distant lands did roam, 
 Leaving her daughter, Jean, to die at home. 
 She pined away in sad and lonely grief, 
 Not any pleasures brought to her relief, 
 And when at last her family returned, 
 With sorrow great, about her death they learned. 
 So, pause, oh, stranger ! drop a single tear, 
 Pity the grief of her who liest here." 
 
 This effusion was the greatest consolation to 
 Cricket. She never showed it to anybody, not 
 even to Eunice, but she often took it out, and 
 read it with much satisfaction, and was almost 
 inclined to begin pining away directly. 
 
 But on the whole they were very contented, 
 and it was much easier for them than if they 
 had been left at Kayuna. 
 
 Dinner-time dinner was a one o'clock feast, 
 in the summer came when they had finished 
 their letters, and had them ready for the mail.
 
 A NEW PLASTER. 121 
 
 " We '11 have the European letters to-night," 
 said Eunice, joyfully, as they sat down to the 
 table. " Does it seem as if we 'd been here two 
 weeks ? Mamma won't seem so far away, when 
 we get the first letters." 
 
 " There was the cablegram," said Edna. 
 
 " That does n't count," said Eunice. " It 
 was n't mamma's own dear handwriting." 
 
 " Papa writed it," chirped in Helen. 
 
 " No, he did n't, goosie," said Cricket. " The 
 man here wrote it. Papa only sent it." 
 
 " I know ! " exclaimed Zaidee. " Papa talked 
 it into the box, and the man writed it down 
 when he talked," confusing the telephone at 
 home with the cablegram, which, directed to 
 Miss Eunice Ward, as the eldest representative, 
 had been the occasion of much excitement on its 
 arrival. 
 
 After dinner the three girls started down on 
 the beach, to sit down under the rocks till it 
 should be cool enough, later, to go for a ride with 
 the ponies. 
 
 " There comes the baby, all alone," said 
 Cricket, presently, as that young man slipped 
 out of the yard all by himself, and ran across 
 the road and down towards the beach where the
 
 122 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 girls were. " Does n't he look cunning ? The 
 darling!" 
 
 Kenneth, although he was nearly four, was 
 still The Baby to the family. His broad- 
 brimmed hat hung down his back, held around 
 his chin by its elastic, and his golden hair was 
 rampant. His blue eyes were dancing with mis- 
 chief, and his hands were clasped behind his back. 
 
 " Dess what I dot?" he demanded, pausing at 
 a safe distance, and looking up roguishly from 
 under his long lashes. 
 
 " What have you there, baby ? See what he 
 has, Cricket, and tell him he must n't have it," 
 said Eunice. 
 
 " Bring it to Cricket, baby," said that young 
 lady, holding out her hand. 
 
 " Dess what I dot," repeated the baby, edging 
 off a little. 
 
 Just then Zaidee appeared from the house. 
 Kenneth immediately trotted off up the beach 
 at the sight of her. She ran after him. 
 
 " Do away ! " he cried, holding his possession, 
 whatever it was, more tightly. " You tan't have 
 it, Zaidee. I dot it." 
 
 " What 's the matter, Zaidee ? " called Eunice. 
 "Where's Eliza?"
 
 A NEW PLASTER. 123 
 
 " She 's dressing Helen. Eunice, Kenneth 
 has auntie's gold watch. She left it on the little 
 table where she keeps her God-books " for so 
 the twins always called the Bible and Prayer- 
 book " and he 's run off with it. I guess 
 auntie forgot it. Ought he to have it, Eunice ? " 
 
 " Of course not," said Eunice, springing up. 
 " Edna, auntie told us to put it away, and we 
 forgot it. Dear me ! I hope he won't drop it. 
 Baby, come here and give the watch to Eunice." 
 She went slowly towards him, holding out her 
 hand. 
 
 But baby hugged his treasure. " I dot tick- 
 tick ! " he announced, triumphantly. " Tennet 
 likes it. Oo tan't have it," and off he started 
 as fast as two little legs could carry him, over 
 the soft sand till he reached the firmer beach, 
 which the receding tide had left hard. 
 
 Eunice sprang after him. The baby looked 
 back over his shoulder, greatly enjoying the 
 race, tripped over a bit of stone, and fell head- 
 long, the watch shooting on ahead. He gave a 
 frightened cry as he fell, but the next instant, 
 when Eunice reached him, he lay motionless. 
 Hurriedly she raised him up. A stream of 
 blood poured from an ugly gash in his poor liitle
 
 124 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 forehead, cut on a piece of glass that was half 
 imbedded in the sand. As she raised him his 
 golden head fell back heavily, and his eyes were 
 closed. 
 
 " Oh, girls, girls ! " shrieked Eunice. " Ken- 
 neth is dead ! he 's killed ! he 's killed ! " 
 
 Cricket and Edna were already by her side. 
 
 " Run, Zaidee Edna run for Eliza. Get 
 some water, Cricket. Oh, baby, speak to me," 
 poor frightened Eunice cried, half beside herself 
 at the gruesome sight of the baby's white, still 
 face, and that dreadful blood welling up so fast, 
 and staining everything with its vivid red. 
 Cricket flew to the edge of the beach, dipping 
 water up in the crown of her sailor hat. She tore 
 off her soft Windsor tie to use for a handkerchief 
 (which, of course, she didn't have), to wipe off 
 the streaming blood. The little face looked 
 ghastly white, in contrast to the blood-soaked 
 hair about it. 
 
 Eliza came flying from the house with the 
 Pond's Extract bottle in one hand and a bundle 
 of old linen in the other, articles that were al- 
 ways at hand, ready for use. 
 
 " Bring him into the shade," she called, as 
 she ran, and Eunice, with Kenneth in her arms,
 
 A NEW PLASTER. 125 
 
 hurried up the beach. Eliza took him as they 
 met, and fairly flew back into the yard. 
 
 " Oh, Billy ! " she called, passing him, " go 
 for the doctor as fast as you can. Kenneth's 
 dreadfully hurt. No, Miss Edna, you go. You 
 can go quicker ; " and Edna flew. 
 
 Eliza, frightened herself by the child's uncon- 
 sciousness, dropped on the grass under a tree, 
 trying to stanch the blood that now flowed less 
 freely. Eunice ran for hartshorn, Cricket for 
 water. As they washed away the blood, they 
 could see the long, ugly cut just over his eye. 
 Eliza laid linen bandages soaking in Pond's Ex- 
 tract over the place, but in a moment they were 
 stained through. 
 
 Edna came rushing back, panting and breath- 
 less. 
 
 " The doctor 's gone away won't be back 
 for ever so long they '11 send him right over 
 when he comes. Oh, Eliza ! will Kenneth 
 die?" 
 
 Zaidee set up a shriek at the word. 
 
 " Be still, Zaidee," ordered Cricket, slipping 
 her hand over the little girl's mouth. " You go 
 and find poor Helen, and help her finish her 
 dressing."
 
 126 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Zaidee went off, sobbing, and Eunice asked, 
 anxiously : 
 
 " Could n't we plaster it up ourselves ? I 
 know papa says the edges of a cut like that 
 ought to be drawn together as soon as possible, 
 and bandaged. I know how he does it. He 
 sops the place off, and washes the cut out, and 
 puts strips of sticking-plaster over it, and then 
 ties it up in a dry bandage." 
 
 " Oh, it 's a head you have, Miss Eunice," said 
 Eliza, who showed her Irish blood by her terror. 
 
 " You get some sticking-plaster, Miss Cricket, 
 while I sop off the blood. Oh, my pretty ! my 
 pretty ! See ! he 's opening his eyes. Do you 
 know 'Liza, lovey ? " 
 
 The heavy blue eyes opened, languidly, and 
 the yellow head stirred a little. The motion 
 set the blood flowing again. 
 
 " Kenneth," said Eunice, bending down beside 
 him ; " here 's sister ! wake him up, if you can, 
 'Liza. Papa wouldn't let Zaidee go to sleep 
 last winter when she fell off the bedstead and 
 bumped her head so. Baby ! wake up, pet ! " 
 and she kissed him, eagerly. 
 
 In a few minutes, Cricket came running out 
 of the house. " We can't find any sticking-
 
 A NEW PLASTER. 127 
 
 plaster, and we 've looked everywhere. Edna 
 says she does n't know if her mother has any. 
 What shall we do ? " I know it ought to be put 
 together right away, else it wouldn't heal so 
 well. Oh, wait ! I know ! " and back she darted. 
 Immediately she reappeared with a part of a 
 sheet of postage stamps. 
 
 "These will do, 'Liza," she said, excitedly. 
 " Now, is the cut all washed out ? Here, I can 
 do it. I've watched papa lots of times." 
 
 Cricket knelt down by the baby and dipped a 
 piece of linen in water. The flow of blood 
 was very slight by this time. She wiped Ken- 
 neth's forehead off, carefully, over and over, 
 and then the cut, itself, looking to see if any bit 
 of glass or sand was still in it. Then, with 
 firm, gentle little fingers, she drew the gaping 
 edges together closely, and held them, while 
 Eunice moistened some postage stamps in water, 
 and laid them in place. 
 
 " Cricket ! how can you do that ? How do 
 you know how ? " exclaimed Edna, who kept in 
 the rear, since the sight of the blood made her 
 feel a little faint and sick. 
 
 "I've seen papa loads of times," answered 
 Cricket, in her matter-of-fact way. "If only
 
 128 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 we had some surgeon's plaster. But that will 
 hold for now. Bind this strip tight around it 
 now, 'Liza. Baby, can't you talk a little ? Do 
 you know Cricket ? " 
 
 " Tritet," repeated Kenneth, with a faint little 
 smile. " Tritet take baby." 
 
 " Let me have him," begged Cricket, and 
 Eliza laid him gently in his little sister's arms. 
 
 " Eunice, there 's Mrs. Bemis coming over," 
 said Edna, " I 'm so glad." 
 
 Mrs. Bemis was the doctor's wife. She came 
 hastily up to the little group. 
 
 " I was out when Edna came, and just got in. 
 The girl told me some one was hurt, so I came 
 right over. The baby, is it ? poor little soul ! 
 has he lost all that blood ? did he cut himself ? " 
 
 Eunice explained, and Cricket told Eliza to 
 unfasten the bandage to ask Mrs. Bemis if it 
 was all right. At the sight of four pink stamps, 
 the doctor's wife exclaimed in astonishment : 
 
 " What have you put on for a plaster ? It 
 looks beautifully done." 
 
 " Them 's postage stamps," volunteered Eliza, 
 quickly. " Miss Cricket could n't find any stick- 
 ing-plaster, so she brought this. Oh, she 's her 
 father's own child for the doctorin'."
 
 A NEW PLASTEK. 129 
 
 " I thought they might do," explained Cricket, 
 rather shyly. " I knew I ought to have strips 
 of plaster, of course, but I could n't find any. I 
 thought the cut ought to be drawn together as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 " You 're a thoughtful child," said Mrs. Bemis, 
 warmly. 
 
 " But Eunice thought of doing it first," an- 
 swered Cricket, quickly. " I only thought of 
 the postage stamps." 
 
 " He 's too heavy for you, my dear," said Mrs. 
 Bemis, then. " Carry him gently into the 
 house, Eliza. He's faint with the loss of so 
 much blood. Let him go, dear," as Cricket de- 
 murred. " Eliza can carry him better than you. 
 Let me give him a few drops of this, first," and 
 she moistened the baby's lips with a few drops 
 from a flask she had brought in her hand. 
 
 When the little procession reached the hall 
 door, Mrs. Bemis said : 
 
 " Let me take care of him now, with Eliza, 
 girls. You keep the twins amused out - of - 
 doors," for Zaidee and Helen came creeping 
 down the staircase, looking frightened to death. 
 The girls willingly turned back, having taken 
 them in charge.
 
 130 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Oh, the watch ! " suddenly exclaimed Edna, 
 and they all raced down to the beach, where the 
 accident had happened. The watch still lay, 
 gleaming in the sunlight, where it had fallen, 
 ticking as unconcernedly as if no adventure had 
 befallen it. Fortunately, it had alighted on a 
 particularly soft bit of sand. Edna picked it up. 
 
 " If only I had n't forgotten to put this away 
 when mamma told me to, all' this would n't have 
 happened," she said, remorsefully. 
 
 " I suppose Kenneth just slipped in there after 
 'Liza finished dressing him," said Eunice, " and 
 saw it lying on the table. You know he 's always 
 teasing auntie to show him her ' tick-tick.' " 
 
 They went slowly back into the yard, scarcely 
 knowing what to do with themselves. They 
 could not settle to any of their regular amuse- 
 ments, and nobody wanted to go off riding. The 
 twins were still under the tree, where they had 
 left them. Helen ran towards them. 
 
 " Eunice, won't you please make Zaidee stop 
 drinking up all the Pond's Extrap ? She says 
 she likes it, and I 'm afraid it will kill her," she 
 said, half crying. " I told her to don't, and she 
 did n't don't." 
 
 " Put the bottle right down, Zaidee," ordered
 
 A NEW PLASTER. 131 
 
 Eunice, laughing. " If you drink the Pond's 
 Extract, what will you do when you fall down 
 and hurt yourself, next time ? " 
 
 Zaidee took a last hasty swallow. Strange to 
 say, she did like it, very much. 
 
 " I suppose it goes all down inside my legs," 
 she said, with calm conviction, " and if I bump 
 my legs it will do them lots more good inside 
 than outside. Come on, Helen. 'Liza said cook 
 would give us our supper to-night, and she's 
 calling us." 
 
 " What funny children," exclaimed Edna. 
 " Does Zaidee really like it ? " 
 
 " Yes, really. 'Liza keeps the bottle locked 
 up. Is n't it funny ? " 
 
 Just before auntie and grandma returned, Dr. 
 Bemis came over, and went to see his little pa- 
 tient. He was amused at Cricket's original 
 plaster, for which he carefully substituted the 
 proper article, but he pronounced the dressing of 
 the cut very nicely done, and said that the cut 
 would not have healed so well as he hoped it 
 would now, if it had been left open for that two 
 hours that elapsed before he could get there.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 GEORGE W. AND MARTHA. 
 
 A RATTLING, banging, clattering sound, like a 
 small army of tin pans on a rampage, suddenly 
 woke the echoes one still, sultry afternoon. 
 Auntie Jean thought it was the circus, and sighed 
 as she wondered if they were going to keep it up 
 long enough to make it worth while for her to 
 leave her cool room and her afternoon nap, to go 
 and stop them. Grandma heard it, and supposed 
 it was Cricket, trying some new experiment as a 
 tinware merchant, and hoped she would soon 
 turn her attention to some different employment. 
 Cricket heard it, and promptly started for the 
 scene of action, meeting, in the hall, Eunice and 
 Edna, who came running down-stairs, as well as 
 the boys, who appeared from the kitchen, where 
 they had been foraging for a mid-afternoon 
 lunch. 
 
 The disturbance came from the front piazza, 
 but when they went out there nothing, for a mo- 
 ment, was visible, though the same mysterious 
 whacking and banging went on, under the table.
 
 GEORGE W. AND MARTHA. 133 
 
 " What is it ? " they all exclaimed, but straight- 
 way the question was solved, for out from under 
 the table-cover backed a half-grown black kitten, 
 with its head firmly wedged into a tin tomato 
 can. Backing and scratching, as a cat will when 
 its head is covered, the poor little thing, evidently 
 half frantic, tumbled up against the chairs and 
 the side of the house, mewing most frightfully 
 and banging its inconvenient headdress against 
 the piazza floor. 
 
 " You poor little cat ! Has some horrid boy 
 been abusing you ? " cried Cricket, making a dive 
 for it, but dropping it, when she caught it, with 
 equal promptness, as its sharp claws tore her 
 hands. " Why, stop ! you dreadful little thing ! 
 How you hurt me ! " 
 
 " Pick it up, boys," begged Edna, as the cat 
 resumed its backward way. " Do get that can 
 off. How did any one ever get it on, do you 
 suppose ? Here, kitty ! kitty ! " 
 
 " Curiosity killed a cat, they say," said Will, 
 watching his chance at it. " I suppose it wanted 
 to see the inside of that can, and now that it has 
 seen it, it isn't satisfied. There's no suiting 
 some people. There you are, sir ! " and Will, 
 having caught the table-cloth from the table,
 
 134 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 sending the magazines and papers in a shower to 
 the floor, threw it over the poor little black thing, 
 so that, in picking it up, he could muffle its claws, 
 so that it could not scratch. Its neck was torn 
 a little, with the sharp, rough edges of the tin 
 can, and a redoubled chorus of frightened meows 
 greeted his first attempt to remove it. 
 
 " Should think a whole orchestra of cats was 
 shut up in here," Will observed, trying another 
 direction. " Arch, get out your knife, and see 
 if you can rip up this can a little. Jove, but it 's 
 snug! We can dispense with a little of that 
 music, my fine fellow. There you are," as 
 Archie, with a final careful twist, drew off the 
 can. Once out of its tin bondage, the little 
 creature seemed too frightened to move, and 
 suddenly curled down under the protecting 
 table-cover, to restore its ruffled fur, with many 
 a piteous mew. 
 
 The girls gathered around to pet and soothe 
 it. 
 
 " Keep away, girls. Don't touch it yet with 
 your hands. It 's so frightened still it might 
 scratch you. Here, Cricket, take it in the table- 
 cloth, there. Better give it something to eat. 
 It 's a stray cat, and probably half starved, and
 
 GEORGE W. AND MARTHA. 135 
 
 that 's why it tried to eat tomato cans, like a 
 goat." 
 
 Cricket bore off her charge to the kitchen, 
 where she fed and soothed it with such good 
 effect that, when she came back, half an hour 
 later, the little black cat cuddled down on her 
 arm, purring like a teakettle in spite of its 
 wounded neck. 
 
 " Is n't it a dear ? " she said, admiringly. " I 
 think grandma will let me keep it. We have n't 
 any cat in the house since Wallops died, and 
 I love them." 
 
 Grandma was entirely willing that the little 
 waif should be added to the family, and so it was 
 legally adopted by Cricket, with all sorts of 
 solemn ceremonies. Then came the naming it, 
 always a serious difficulty. 
 
 " I want a very appropriate name," meditated 
 Cricket, aloud. 
 
 " The Cat in the Iron Mask," suggested Will. 
 
 " Too long. Think of calling all that out 
 when I want him in a hurry." 
 
 " Cantankerous," said Archie. 
 
 " No, I want a regular name." 
 
 " Can - on Farrar, then. That 's a regular 
 name, and it 's a very appropriate one."
 
 136 CEICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " I don't like that, either. I want just a plain, 
 common, every -day sort of name, like George 
 Washington." 
 
 " Very well, take George Washington, then. 
 That is very appropriate indeed. He could n't 
 tell a lie, and probably your cat can't either." 
 
 " Do you think he 's dignified enough to be 
 called George Washington ! " asked Cricket, 
 doubtfully, watching the Nameless jump around 
 after his tail. She had had him for two days 
 now, and he had quite recovered from his tinny 
 imprisonment. He proved to be a most well- 
 bred and entertaining little cat, for he came 
 when he was called and went when he was bid, 
 in orthodox fashion, and made himself entirely 
 at home. 
 
 " Probably George was frisky in his youth," said 
 Will. " Especially when he was courting Martha." 
 
 "Then I'll do this: I'll call him George 
 Washington as far as his tail, and I '11 call that 
 Martha, because he runs after it. Come here, 
 George W., you 've run after Martha long enough 
 now. Come here, and be christened." 
 
 And so George Washington he remained to 
 the end of the chapter. He soon learned his 
 name, and would come flying at the first sound
 
 FEEDING GEORGE WASHINGTON "CRICKET BORE 
 
 OFF HER CHARGE TO THE KITCHEN "
 
 GEORGE W. AND MARTHA. 139 
 
 of it. He proved to be a pet that required con- 
 siderable attention. He was of an especially 
 sociable nature, and, if left alone in any room, 
 he would howl in mournful and prolonged 
 meows, that speedily brought some one to the 
 rescue. He tagged the girls like a little dog, 
 and would stand on the shore crying like a child 
 if they went off in the boat and would not take 
 him. He slept in Cricket's bed at night, and if 
 by any chance he was shut out when the family 
 went to bed, and the house was locked up, he 
 would make night hideous with lamentations, to 
 an extent that would soon bring some one down 
 to let him in. 
 
 One day the familiar meow sounded, and 
 Cricket, who was curled up in the hammock, 
 reading, instantly sprang up. 
 
 " There 's George W." for so his name was 
 generally abbreviated, " and he 's shut up some- 
 where, and I let him out myself only a few min- 
 utes ago. I believe he gets into places through 
 the keyholes, and I don't see why he does n't get 
 out through 'em." 
 
 But George was not to be found in any of his 
 usual haunts, and his meows ceasing, Cricket 
 went back to her book. Presently, a prolonged
 
 140 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 cry was heard again, and again Cricket started 
 in quest of him. She looked and called every- 
 where, but George W. was nowhere to be found, 
 though his meow, with a quality peculiar to him- 
 self, seemed to come from no particular place, 
 but to pervade the air generally. 
 
 " Come and help me find George W.," she 
 called to Eunice and Edna, who were also on 
 the piazza. " He 's mewing dreadfully, and I 
 can't find him." 
 
 " He 's worse than a baby," said Eunice, un- 
 winding herself from the comfortable, twisted- 
 up position in the steamer chair, which she 
 loved. " Could n't you let him cry a little while 
 and give him a lesson ? " 
 
 " I would n't mind giving him a lesson, but 
 I 'm afraid he 'd give me one in patience," re- 
 turned Cricket, laughing. " I 'm sure I don't 
 want to listen to that music long. There, he 's 
 stopped again, now." 
 
 But five minutes later, George W. renewed 
 his complaints. 
 
 " Now I 'm going to let him cry ! " said 
 Cricket, returning in despair from another 
 search. So down she sat, shutting her ears to 
 outside sounds in her comfortable fashion.
 
 GEORGE W. AND MARTHA. 141 
 
 Presently grandma appeared at the hall door. 
 
 " Cricket, my dear, George Washington seems 
 to want something. Don't you think you'd 
 better try and find him ? " 
 
 " Grandma, he 's been crying and weeping for 
 an hour at least, and I just can't find him. But 
 I '11 look again." 
 
 But wherever George W. was, he was certainly 
 securely hidden. He cried now and then at 
 intervals, but it was impossible to locate the 
 sound, since it came first from one side, then 
 from another. 
 
 " He 's between the floors somewhere," said 
 Will, who had joined the search. " The ques- 
 tion is, where ? " 
 
 " We '11 have to decide that question at once," 
 said auntie, "because we can scarcely have all 
 the floors in the house taken up. How could he 
 have gotten in ? " 
 
 " Perhaps through some small hole in the 
 garret floor. He 's probably forgotten the way 
 back. Or, perhaps there 's some hole down 
 cellar where he got inside, and ran up after the 
 mice." 
 
 "Perhaps the mice have gotten the best of 
 him, and are tearing him limb from limb," sug-
 
 142 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 gested Archie, making such a horrible face that 
 Helen retreated behind Aunt Jean in terror. 
 
 All the afternoon they followed the sounds at 
 intervals, listening at the floor, and calling over 
 and over. George W. seemed to be exploring 
 the entire interior of the house. Late in the 
 afternoon, the cries came more constantly from 
 the floor of the trunkroom, a small apartment 
 off the garret, and directly over Eunice's room. 
 There was a small knot - hole in the floor, and 
 the light from a window fell directly on it, prob- 
 ably attracting George W. there. Saws and 
 hatchets were brought, and the boys soon had a 
 piece of the floor up, making a hole large 
 enough for several cats the size of George to 
 come up. 
 
 " George evidently likes this sort of thing," 
 said Archie, hacking away. " First the tin can, 
 then the floor. Come out here, old fellow." 
 But he was evidently frightened away by the 
 noise, and could not be induced to come up. 
 
 " Bring a saucer of milk, Edna," said Mrs. 
 Somers. " Stand it at one side, and then we 
 will all go away and he will soon come up." So 
 the milk was brought, and as it was supper-time, 
 they all went down and left George W. to his
 
 GEORGE W. AND MARTHA. 143 
 
 own devices. Cricket was much disposed to 
 stay and make sure that he came up, but she 
 was finally persuaded to come down with the 
 rest. 
 
 " Is n't it funny how his voice came from all 
 over?" she said, at the supper-table. "Prob- 
 ably he was right there under the trunkroom 
 floor all the time. He was a regular philan- 
 thropist." 
 
 "A regular what?" asked grandma and 
 Auntie Jean, together. 
 
 " A philanthropist. Don't you know ? a man 
 who who talks where he is n't ? " 
 
 "A ventriloquist! " said Will. "That's what 
 you mean." 
 
 " Do I ? Auntie, what is a philanthropist, 
 then?" 
 
 " A philanthropist is one who loves man, dear, 
 and who " 
 
 " Then when a girl 's engaged, is she a philan- 
 thropist?" broke in Cricket, with her glass of 
 milk half raised. The others all laughed. 
 
 " She is, very often," said grandma. 
 
 " I know the man she is engaged to is called 
 her finance, but I never knew she was called a 
 philanthropist," went on Cricket, thoughtfully.
 
 144 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 There was another shout. 
 
 " Fianc6, dear," said auntie, as soon as she 
 could speak, " and the girl is n't often called a 
 philanthropist, though she often is one." 
 
 " Dear me," sighed Cricket. " Words are very 
 puzzling. They seem to be made to say what 
 you don't think." 
 
 " Oftentimes, my little Talleyrand," said 
 grandma. 
 
 After supper, Cricket ran up to see if George 
 W. had made his appearance yet. A few mo- 
 ments later, the household, assembled on the 
 front piazza, was startled by a crash and a 
 scream in Cricket's voice. With one accord, 
 everybody rushed up-stairs. The sounds seemed 
 to come from Eunice's room. As they opened 
 the door, a cloud of dust poured out, from a 
 mass of plaster that lay on the floor, while from 
 a hole in the ceiling a length of black - stock- 
 inged leg kicked wildly. Above, a pair of fists 
 beat a tattoo on the floor, while Cricket called, 
 loudly : 
 
 " For goodness' sake, somebody come and pull 
 me up ; I 'm breaking my other leg off." 
 
 Will sprang for the garret stairs, stumbling 
 headlong, at the top, over George W., who took
 
 GEORGE W. AND MARTHA. 145 
 
 the opportunity to spring over his head, alight- 
 ing right in the midst of the group of eager 
 children, each of whom was trying to get up- 
 stairs first, and in a moment everybody lay on 
 top of everybody else, at the foot of the stair- 
 case. 
 
 Will, meantime, found his feet, and went to 
 Cricket's rescue. It was dark in the trunk- 
 room, under the eaves, but there was light 
 enough to see Cricket, with one leg stretched 
 out straight, and the other one so firmly wedged 
 into the hole in the floor that she could not 
 move. 
 
 " My leg feels as George W.'s head must 
 have when he was caught in the tomato can," 
 said Cricket, as Will drew up. " It 's a pretty 
 tight squeeze. I don't believe there 's any skin 
 left on it. I just came up quickly, and I 
 couldn't see very well, and the first thing I 
 knew my foot slipped into a hole, and there was 
 not any floor there, and I slumped through." 
 
 " Are you hurt ? Is Cricket hurt ? " cried 
 everybody, scrambling in, in hot haste. 
 
 " Not much," said Cricket, ruefully, feeling 
 her barked knee. " I came down pretty hard 
 on my elbow, and I nearly knocked it up to the
 
 146 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 top of my head, and my back feels funny, but 
 I 'm not hurt, not a bit ! " 
 
 " What a mercy the child did n't fall all the 
 way through, and go down on the lower floor," 
 said grandma, who had just arrived on the scene. 
 
 " Why, I could n't, said Cricket, surprised. 
 " My other leg stopped me."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ECHO CLUB. 
 
 EUNICE and Edna went sauntering along the 
 beach, with arms around each other's waists. 
 They were bending their steps towards one of 
 their favourite retreats, under some big rocks. It 
 was high tide, and the water lay dimpling and 
 smiling in the sunlight. Down beside the dock, 
 Will and Archie were giving their sailboat, 
 the Gentle Jane, a thorough cleaning and over- 
 hauling. Cricket was the girls didn't know 
 exactly where. 
 
 " There she is now," said Eunice, as they came 
 around the rocks. Cricket lay in her favourite 
 attitude, full length on the sand, in which her 
 elbows were buried, with a book under her nose. 
 She sat up as the girls came nearer. 
 
 " I have an idea," she announced, beamingly. 
 
 " Very hot weather for ideas ! " said Eunice, 
 fanning herself with her broad-brimmed hat. 
 
 " Eunice, you 're dreadfully brilliant, are n't 
 you ? Anyway, I have an idea, and I just got it 
 from ' Little Women,' "
 
 148 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Edna threw herself on the sand. " Don't let 's 
 do it, if we have to do anything," she said, 
 fanning likewise. 
 
 " Now, you 're brilliant. But you 're a lazy- 
 bones, you know. Tell us your idea, Cricket." 
 
 " You know how Jo and the rest had a club and 
 published a paper ? Now, then, let us have a 
 club and publish a paper ourselves. It would 
 be lots of fun." 
 
 Eunice and Edna looked rather startled at 
 Cricket's ambition. 
 
 " Who would write the pieces for it ? " 
 demanded Edna, instantly. 
 
 " We would, of course," answered Cricket, 
 superbly. " I 'd love to do it." 
 
 " Write stories, and poems, and everything," 
 urged Edna, aghast. 
 
 " Of course," repeated Cricket, undauntedly. 
 " It 's as easy as rolling off a log. That is n't 
 slang, Eunice, and you needn't look at me. 
 Rolling off a log is really very easy indeed." 
 For Eunice, though her own language was not 
 always above reproach, was very apt to play 
 censor to her younger sister. " We 'd just make 
 them up ourselves." 
 
 "Make them up!" Unimaginative Edna
 
 THE ECHO CLUB. 149 
 
 opened her mouth and eyes wider. " I could n't, 
 to save my life ! " 
 
 " Oh, you could. I 've made up billions of 
 stories," answered Cricket, hugging her knees, 
 and talking earnestly. 
 
 " But how ? " persisted Edna. " Oh, I could n't ! 
 I would n't try!" 
 
 " I don't know exactly how" returned Cricket, 
 considering. "Just make them up, that's all. 
 Things come into your head all by themselves, 
 somehow." 
 
 "It would be fun, Cricket," put in Eunice, 
 who had been thinking over the project. " We 
 could print the paper all out on foolscap." 
 
 " Would we each write our own story out ? " 
 
 " We could if we wanted to. I thought we 
 might take turns being editor, and printing 
 everything out like a real paper. We might 
 have one every week, and get subscribers," added 
 Cricket, ambitiously. 
 
 " Subscribers ! " groaned Edna, " and print a 
 copy out for each one ? Not if I know myself. 
 It 's too warm weather." 
 
 " Well, then, we might hand the one around 
 to the subscribers, and each one could pass it to 
 the next, like a Magazine Club," said Edna.
 
 150 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " No," said Eunice. " Don't let us have sub- 
 scribers, or anything like that. We '11 just do it 
 for fun. We '11 write one number out for our- 
 selves. I do think it will be fun. Shall we let 
 the boys know ? " 
 
 "No," said Edna, instantly. "They would 
 tease and spoil things, just as they always 
 do." 
 
 " They don't tease much," said Cricket, defen- 
 sively. " They 're a great deal nicer than they 
 were last summer, I think, anyway. They did 
 tease, last summer, dreadfully, and they never 
 played with Eunice and me, but were always 
 with Donald." For the summer before, Will 
 and Archie had spent two months at Kayuna, 
 as grandma had been ill, and was not able to 
 have them at Marbury, as usual. 
 
 " This summer I think they 're awfully nice. 
 At least Will always is, and Archie is, some- 
 times. They let me be around with them all the 
 time." 
 
 " But I think we 'd better not let them into 
 it," said Eunice, judicially. Eunice generally 
 settled all questions. " They would not stick to 
 it, and they would want us to do it some other way 
 from what we wanted," speaking from long
 
 THE ECHO, CLUB. 151 
 
 experience with boys, " and they would want 
 to have it their own way. Now what shall we 
 call ourselves ? " 
 
 " We ought to be the < Echo Club,' " suggested 
 Edna, who often had practical ideas. " We copy 
 it from Little Women.' " 
 
 " Splendid ! " cried Cricket, clapping her hands. 
 " That 's just the name, Edna. How clever of 
 you! We'll be the Echo Club, and the paper 
 shall be the ' Echo,' and we '11 have badges with 
 ' E. C.' on them, and we '11 choose a certain colour 
 ribbon to wear them on, always, and we '11 have 
 meetings, and oh, we '11 have some by - laws ! " 
 her imagination instantly running away with 
 her. " I always wanted to have a club, and have 
 by-laws, and rules, all written out. Do let 's be- 
 gin, right away ! " 
 
 " We can't very well begin a paper, till we 
 have some stories written to print in it," said 
 Eunice, laughing. " We '11 have to get some 
 ideas, first." 
 
 "You don't want ideas," answered Cricket, 
 scornfully. " We want to write some stories and 
 things." 
 
 " I never can ! " sighed Edna, despairingly. 
 
 " But you can try," insisted Cricket. " It 's so
 
 152 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 easy." And at last, Edna, with a groan, prom- 
 ised she would at least try. 
 
 For the next few days, the three girls were 
 never seen without the accompaniment of blank 
 books and pencils. The blank books were Crick- 
 et's idea. She said that they could carry around 
 blank books with them, and write whenever they 
 thought of anything to say. So they tied pen- 
 cils around their necks, by long ribbons, and 
 scribbled industriously in corners. Edna groaned, 
 and protested, and chewed up her pencil, but 
 Cricket was inexorable, and gave her no peace, 
 till she made a beginning. 
 
 Suddenly Cricket discovered that they were 
 not properly organized yet. 
 
 " Let 's have a meeting at two o'clock this 
 afternoon, and choose a president, and secretary, 
 and treasurer, and an editor, to print the paper 
 when it is done. We must make up our rules 
 and by-laws, too. Oh, we must have a regular 
 business meeting," with an air of much impor- 
 tance. 
 
 " Let 's have it now, for we 're all here," pro- 
 posed Edna. 
 
 " No, indeed, that would not do at all," said 
 Cricket, decidedly, quite disgusted with this sug-
 
 THE ECHO CLUB. 153 
 
 gestion. " We must call the meeting first, just 
 as grown-up people do." For Cricket, with all 
 her harum-scarum ways, had a strong liking for 
 organization. 
 
 " You 're a fuss," said Edna, laughing, but 
 yielding the point. 
 
 So at two o'clock, the three girls duly and 
 solemnly convened behind the rocks, where they 
 were completely screened from observation, both 
 from the house, and from any one passing along 
 the beach. All felt the importance of the occa- 
 sion, and had preternaturally grave faces. 
 
 " What do we do first ? " asked Edna, uncer- 
 tainly. 
 
 " I know," said Cricket, quickly. " We nom- 
 inate some one for president, and somebody sec- 
 onds the motive. Papa has often told us about it, 
 and once I went with mamma to a club of hers. 
 I '11 nominate Eunice for president, and you must 
 second the motive, Edna, and then we '11 vote." 
 
 " There '11 be nobody to vote, but me, then," 
 objected Eunice. " Shall I vote for myself ? " 
 
 " Might as well. You '11 have to be president 
 anyway, because you're the oldest, and it's 
 more appropriate. Or let 's do this : You say, 
 * All in favour say, aye. Contrary-minded, no,'
 
 154 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 and then we '11 all vote. That 's the way they 
 did in mamma's meeting, only, of course, there 
 were more to vote. Now, I nominate Eunice 
 Ward as president of the Echo Club." 
 
 " I second the motive," said Edna, promptly, 
 trying not to laugh. 
 
 " All in favour of my being president, say aye," 
 said Eunice, in her turn. 
 
 A very vigorous aye from the two others 
 followed. 
 
 " Contrary-minded, say no." 
 
 There being nobody to say no, it was consid- 
 ered a unanimous election, and Cricket so de- 
 clared it, with a slight variation. 
 
 " Eunice is a unaminous president," she an- 
 nounced. 
 
 " What is a unaminous president," asked 
 Edna. 
 
 " I don't know. It 's something they always 
 say. Now we must choose a secretary and 
 treasurer." 
 
 " What do they do ? " 
 
 "Why, the secretary writes things," said 
 Cricket, vaguely. 
 
 "All the stories?" said Edna, brightening. 
 " I nominate Cricket for secretary."
 
 THE ECHO CLUB. 155 
 
 " Of course not. We each write our own 
 stories. I mean letters and things. Don't you 
 know, Eunice, that Marjorie was secretary to her 
 club last winter, and what a lot of writing she 
 had to do?" 
 
 Who to ? " persisted Edna. What do they 
 have to write letters for ? We Ve nobody to 
 write letters to but Aunt Margaret and the 
 rest." 
 
 "Not to them, of course" returned Cricket, 
 somewhat impatiently, as she did not at all know 
 the duties of a secretary. " And the treasurer 
 takes care of the money, of course," she went on, 
 quickly shifting the subject to something she was 
 sure of. 
 
 " How are we going to get any money, will you 
 kindly tell me ? " pursued Edna. 
 
 " Keeping a peanut stand," suggested Eunice, 
 slyly- 
 
 " No, don't let 's," answered Cricket, seriously. 
 " It is n't really much fun, and you don't make 
 very much, anyway. First, let 's take up a col- 
 lection to buy the paper with, for we 've got to 
 have that. And, well, if we should have any 
 money in any way, the treasurer would be all 
 ready to take care of it. Don't you see ? "
 
 156 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Ye-es. I nominate Cricket for secretary and 
 treasurer, then 
 
 " I '11 second the motive Cricket, that 
 does n't sound right." 
 
 "It is," said Cricket, positively. "When I 
 went to that meeting with mamma, they kept 
 saying that "I '11 second the motive." 
 
 " All right, then, I '11 second the motive, but 
 then Edna will have to be the editor." 
 
 " No, no, cried Edna, looking alarmed. " I '11 
 nominate myself for secretary and treasurer, and 
 we '11 have Cricket for editor. There won't be 
 any letters to write, and I 'm sure there won't be 
 much money to take care of." 
 
 " It will be lots of work to be editor," medi- 
 tated Eunice. " Would n't this be better, girls ? 
 Let each be editor in turn." 
 
 " Yes, that will be best," said Cricket. " I 'd 
 just as lief be first editor, though, if Edna 
 does n't want to." 
 
 "And I'd lievser you would," said Edna. 
 " Shall I be secretary and treasurer, then ? All in 
 favour say aye;" and Eunice and Cricket said 
 aye, loudly. x 
 
 " What do we do now the officers are all 
 chosen?" asked Edna.
 
 THE ECHO CLUB. 157 
 
 " Make rules and by-laws," answered Cricket, 
 promptly. 
 
 " What are by-laws ? " asked Edna, again. 
 
 " Why, they are by-laws. I don't know just 
 exactly what they are," broke off Cricket, hon- 
 estly. " But I think they sound very interesting 
 and grown-up-y. Do you know what they are, 
 Eunice ? " 
 
 " N o, not exactly. Do you suppose they 
 are the laws about buying things ? or who must 
 buy them, or anything like that ? " 
 
 " Why, of course ! " exclaimed Cricket, with 
 an air of conviction. " You see then, we '11 have 
 to have by-laws to see about buying the paper, 
 won't we ? " 
 
 " And what sort of rules do we have ? " went 
 on Edna, in the pursuit of information. 
 
 " Oh, everything ! Let 's begin to make them 
 now. You write them down, Edna, for your 
 handwriting is so nice and neat. Take the last 
 leaf of your blank book. 
 
 Edna obediently opened her book, and took up 
 her pencil. 
 
 " Write ' Rules for the Echo Club ' at the top 
 of the page," directed Cricket. " Now, Rule 
 One," when this was down in Edna's careful 
 handwriting.
 
 158 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 4< How would this do for rule one ? ' We 
 make ourselves into a club called the Echo 
 Club.' " 
 
 " That 's good. Now for rule two. 
 
 " ' Every two weeks we will print a paper called 
 the Echo] " said Cricket. " Edna, you make up 
 rule three." 
 
 " ' The secretary shall be excused from writ- 
 ing stories,' " laughed Edna. 
 
 "You lazy, lazy thing. That sha' n't be a rule 
 at all," answered Eunice, laughing also. 
 
 " How would this do, then, for rule three ? 
 ' The Echo Club will not do anything in very hot 
 weather, but sit under the trees and embroider 
 and read, and none of the members shall be 
 allowed to make the others go on long walks 
 and things when it 's so roasting hot that nobody 
 wants to stir.' That's a beautiful rule," said 
 Edna, mischievously. Whereupon Cricket flew 
 at her, and rolled her over on the sand, till she 
 cried for mercy. 
 
 " Will the meeting please come to order," an- 
 nounced the president. " Let 's have the third 
 rule about our ribbons. We '11 choose one colour. 
 I vote for pale-green." 
 
 " Blue," said Edna, and " Pink," said Cricket,
 
 THE ECHO CLUB. 159 
 
 in one breath. The children looked at each 
 other and laughed. 
 
 " I 'd just as soon have pale-green," said Edna, 
 amiably. 
 
 " So would I," agreed Cricket. " Eunice is pres- 
 ident, so let 's vote for pale-green. How would 
 this do ? ' The club will have pale-green ribbon 
 to tie its pencils round its necks." 
 
 " ' Round its necks ' sounds funny," com- 
 mented Edna, writing. 
 
 " Round its neck, then. But that sounds as if 
 we had only one neck." 
 
 " Say, the club will have pale - green ribbon to 
 tie their pencils round their necks," amended 
 Eunice. 
 
 " That will do. Now rule four," said Edna, 
 waiting, with pencil raised. 
 
 " Should n't we have a by-law now ? " asked 
 Cricket. " For instance, By-law one : ' The club 
 will buy foolscap paper to print on, and will 
 take up a surscription of five cents to buy it 
 with.'" 
 
 " /Subscription," corrected Eunice. " I should 
 think that would do." 
 
 So Edna wrote, neatly : 
 
 " Buy-law I. The club will take up a sub-
 
 160 CEICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 scription of five cents each, and buy foolscap 
 paper, as much as it needs." 
 
 "That's good. Do we need any more by- 
 laws ? What else have we to buy ? " 
 
 " Ain't those enough rules ? " asked Eunice. 
 "I can't seem to think of any more rules we 
 want to make." 
 
 "When will we have the paper?" asked 
 Edna. 
 
 " Depends on when you send in your stories. 
 This is Wednesday. Have you your stories 
 nearly done, girls ? I guess it will take some 
 time to print them all out carefully." 
 
 " I can finish mine to-morrow," said Eunice. 
 
 " Mine 's a horrid little thing, but I was n't 
 born bright," sighed Edna. " I '11 get it done by 
 Friday. I can't think up more than five lines a 
 day." 
 
 " Mine 's all done," said Cricket. " But, oh, 
 girls ! a newspaper ought to have ever so many 
 more things than stories in it. We ought to 
 have jokes, and advertisements, and deaths, and 
 marriages, and all that. And puzzles, too." 
 
 " Oh-h ! " groaned Edna. " Then you '11 have 
 to make them up, that 's all. I think it 's the 
 editor's business, anyway."
 
 THE ECHO CLUB. 161 
 
 We '11 each do a few. That won't be hard," 
 suggested Eunice. 
 
 " Suppose nobody dies, or gets married, that 
 we know of ? " asked literal Edna. 
 
 " Make them up, child," answered Cricket, 
 with a funny air of superiority. " In a paper 
 you can make up anything. It does n't have to 
 be true. Don't you know how often papa says 
 ' that 's only a newspaper story ? ' ' 
 
 " Making them up is just the trouble," per- 
 sisted Edna. "If anybody really died, or mar- 
 ried, or anything, it would be easy enough to 
 write of it, of course. How silly people are who 
 make real newspapers. Why do they ever make 
 up anything, when real things are happening all 
 the time ? " 
 
 " It 's more fun to make things up," answered 
 Cricket, from the depths of her experience. 
 " But we can write about that old red hen, and 
 about poor little Wallops " referring to a little 
 black cat, lately deceased. " Then each of you 
 must send me in some things besides your sto- 
 ries, and I '11 make some up myself. Let 's ap- 
 point next Tuesday for a meeting, if I can get 
 the paper done. If I don't, we '11 have it as soon 
 as I can get it ready."
 
 162 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Shall that be a rule ? " laughed Eunice. 
 
 " No, miss. But suppose we make this a rule 
 how many rules have we now ? " 
 
 " Three," said Edna, referring to the constitu- 
 tion. 
 
 " Then rule four : * The paper shall be read 
 on Wednesday afternoons, at three o'clock, in 
 Kocky Nook.' Why, girls! I made up that 
 name just then ! " interrupting herself, in her 
 surprise. 
 
 " It 's a splendid name," the girls said. 
 
 " We might call it ' Exiles' Bower/ " laughed 
 Edna, teasingly, for the boys had given that 
 name to Bear Island since the girls' imprison- 
 ment there. 
 
 " If you like," said Cricket, the unteasable, 
 serenely. 
 
 " Don't you think that the next rule ought to 
 be that we won't tell the boys ? " asked Edna. 
 " I just know they will tease us out of our 
 senses." 
 
 So rule five was duly registered, to the effect 
 that strict secrecy was to be observed, and that 
 they would tell no one but grandma and Auntie 
 Jean. 
 
 " There must be another by-law," put in
 
 THE ECHO CLUB. 163 
 
 Cricket, reflectively, here, "for we must have 
 some badges, like Marjorie's society." 
 
 " What are they ? " asked Edna. 
 
 "Marjorie took a dime and had the jeweller 
 rub it off smooth, and put some letters on it. 
 We could have E. C. put on ours. Then he put 
 a little pin on it, and she wears it all the time. 
 Don't you suppose auntie would see about them 
 for us ? " 
 
 " I 'm sure she would. She would lend us the 
 money, I guess, and let us make it up from our 
 allowances." 
 
 So the next regulation read : 
 
 " Buy-law two. We will have badges, made 
 of dimes, with E. C. on them, and will ask 
 mamma to let us have the money for them." 
 
 "Doesn't that look club -by?" exclaimed 
 Cricket, enthusiastically, surveying the neatly 
 written page, with its rules and " buy-laws." 
 
 " You ought to be the first editor, Edna, for 
 you do write foawtifully." 
 
 " You write my stories, and I '11 print the paper, 
 any time," said Edna, brightening. 
 
 " No, I won't. I won't let you wiggle out of 
 writing your stories, Edna, if I print all the pa- 
 pers. Come, girls, I 'm nearly dead with sitting
 
 164 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 still so long," added Cricket, springing up. 
 "Let's go to ride." 
 
 " No, I thank you. This is all I want to do, 
 this hot day," answered Edna, stretching herself 
 out on the sand, with her head in Eunice's lap. 
 
 " Oh, lazybones ! I 'm going to find old Billy, 
 and take him to ride. Good-by ! "
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 "THE ECHO." 
 
 " GIRLS, we forgot one very important thing," 
 said Cricket, suddenly pausing in her work of 
 copying out carefully, in print, on legal cap, the 
 much-interlined and very untidy looking manu- 
 scripts that had been handed in. The three 
 girls were sittingly cosily in one end of the 
 broad piazza, Edna lying back in a bamboo 
 steamer chair, reading, Eunice in the hammock, 
 while Cricket, at the table, with both feet 
 curled up on the round of her chair, worked 
 industriously. 
 
 " What did we forget ? " asked Edna, languidly. 
 
 " We forgot to choose names for ourselves, as 
 Jo and the rest did. I don't want to sign just 
 plain Edna Somers to your piece." 
 
 " I 'm sure I don't want you to," said Edna, 
 with sudden energy. " I just hate my name. I 
 wish mamma hadn't named me till I could 
 choose for myself."
 
 166 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " What a good idea ! " said Eunice, admiringly. 
 " 1 never thought of that. What name would 
 you choose ? " 
 
 "Hildegarde Genevieve," answered Edna, 
 promptly. " Those are my favourite names. And 
 I wish my last name was Montague." 
 
 " Hildegarde Genevieve Montague ! That 's a 
 beautiful name ! " exclaimed Cricket. " Have 
 that for your club name, Edna. Now you 
 choose, Eunice." 
 
 " Let me see ! " considered Eunice. " I think 
 Esmeralda is just splendid, and I love Muriel. 
 Esmeralda Muriel would do." 
 
 " And have Le Grand for your last name," 
 begged Cricket. " I think anything with a Le 
 in it is so so stately. But Muriel is one of 
 my favourite names, too, Eunice. What shall 
 I choose ? Do you like Seretta ? " 
 
 " That is n't a real name, is it, asked Edna. 
 
 " I made it up the other night, and I think 
 it 's sweet. I '11 be Seretta Carlillian. I made 
 that up, too. So that's settled," said Cricket, 
 resuming her work, and signing, " Hildegarde 
 Genevieve Montague, " very carefully. 
 
 The rest of the family had, of course, noticed 
 the sudden literary bent of these young women,
 
 "THE ECHO." 167 
 
 and were all curiosity to know the reason of it. 
 The boys gave them no peace, and though the 
 girls stuck to their secret valiantly, Will and 
 Archie managed to worm it from them at last. 
 To the relief of the girls, however, they did not 
 tease, but, on the contrary, quite approved, and 
 even offered to contribute, an offer which the 
 small editor would not accept unconditionally. 
 " You may write things," she said, rather du- 
 biously, " and if I like them I '11 print them. 
 
 
 But I'm not going to put in any nonsense. This 
 is a really-truly paper, and the girls have written 
 beautiful stories." 
 
 She was sole judge of the production, however, 
 for the other girls had agreed that it would be 
 more fun if nobody but the editor knew the con- 
 tents of the paper till it was read. It proved to 
 be a great deal of work to copy all the paper 
 neatly in printing letters, but Cricket stuck to it 
 i faithfully. Auntie advised that she should 
 work regularly, one hour in the morning, and 
 one hour in the afternoon, till she got it done, 
 and Cricket, who, at first, felt obliged to work 
 at it all the morning, very willingly followed 
 her suggestion. Auntie had also undertaken to 
 advance the money for the badges, which a
 
 168 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 little local watchmaker had promised to have 
 done before Wednesday. He kept his promise, 
 and three prouder little girls never walked than 
 these three, when they fastened on these round, 
 shining pins, with " E. C." embroidered on them, 
 as Cricket said. 
 
 Would my little readers like a glimpse of this 
 " really - truly " paper of " really - truly " little 
 girls ? 
 
 Well, then, the club meeting was held, by 
 common consent, on the piazza, instead of in 
 " Rocky Nook," for the boys insisted on being 
 present, and Auntie Jean hinted that an invi- 
 tation to herself and grandma would be much 
 appreciated. 
 
 " You must n't anybody laugh," said Eunice, 
 finally, in some trepidation. 
 
 " We '11 be as sober as crocodiles," promised 
 Will, " and I don't know anything more serious 
 than a crocodile." 
 
 So, when the audience was duly assembled on 
 the piazza, the " Echo Club " marched out of the 
 house, headed by President Eunice, the secretary 
 and treasurer following, while the editor, all in a 
 flutter, carrying the precious paper laid flat in 
 an atlas, brought up the rear. The president
 
 "THE ECHO." 169 
 
 sat down, gravely, in a big chair reserved for 
 her, while the secretary took a seat by her 
 side, though she cast a longing look at the ham- 
 mock, which was regarded as undignified. The 
 editor, vainly trying to control her smiles and 
 restrain her dimples, stood behind the table, and 
 began. 
 
 " I copied the top part of it from a real news- 
 paper, auntie," she said, opening the sheet. 
 " Now, boys, remember, if you laugh the least 
 bit, I '11 stop. And, oh, auntie, I forgot to say 
 that the boys wrote some of the atoms." 
 
 " Atoms ? " repeated Auntie Jean, puzzled. 
 
 " Atoms ! Miss Scricket, oh, ho ! " called 
 Archie ; then, recollecting himself just in time, 
 he clapped his hands over his mouth. 
 
 " That 's what you said the'y were, I thought," 
 said Cricket, anxiously. " Don 't you know, 
 auntie, those little things that come between the 
 stories, and all that ? General atoms. I have 
 written it down." 
 
 " Items, dear," said auntie, soberly. 
 
 " Items atoms," repeated Cricket, thought- 
 fully, comparing the sounds. " Yes, of course. 
 How silly of me. I'll change it right away. 
 Well, the boys wrote most of them, anyway.
 
 170 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Now, I'm all ready," and Cricket cleared her 
 throat, and began. 
 
 SEKELLA CAKLILLIAX, Editor. 
 
 No. 1. Marbury, Wednesday, July 15th, 18 . VOL. I. 
 
 DELL'S COMPOSITION. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! '.' sighed Dell Ripley, " next Friday is 
 Composition Day, and I 've got to write a composition. 
 What subject shall I take, mamma ? " 
 
 " Are there not any subjects in your school composi- 
 tion-book ? " asked Mrs. Ripley, a pleasant looking lady 
 of apparently thirty-five. 
 
 " Yes 'm, but not any I want. Oh, it seems to me 
 that I saw a book up-stairs in the garret with some- 
 thing about compositions in it," and, shaking back her 
 floating curls, the little girl bounded from the room. 
 She ran up the garret stairs, and then began to look for 
 the book. At last she found it, and eagerly opened it, 
 and, as she opened it, a paper fluttered to the floor. 
 
 She picked it up, and saw the name " Amy Willard " 
 on it. " Why," she thought, " it 's something of Aunt 
 Amy's," and she read it. It was a composition. 
 
 " Joan of Arc," cried Dell, " splendid subject, and 
 splendid composition. I wish I could write one as 
 nice." 
 
 " Why not take this one ? " asked the tempter. Then 
 there was a very long struggle in Dell's heart, but the 
 tempter conquered, and Dell carried the composition 
 down to her own room to copy it. When she had 
 finished it, she read it over, trying to think that it
 
 "THE ECHO." 171 
 
 sounded just like any of her own, and that no one 
 would ever know it. 
 
 " It sounds just like mine," she said, trying to get rid 
 of that uneasy feeling. " I guess I '11 just change this 
 sentence and that one." 
 
 " Have you written your composition, dear ? " asked 
 Mrs. Ripley, pleasantly, as Dell came slowly down- 
 stairs, and out on the piazza. 
 
 " Yes 'm," answered Dell, very low. 
 
 " You look tired, dear." 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " What shall I do if I am found out?" thought Dell. 
 
 When she went to bed that night she was very un- 
 happy. Her conscience troubled her very much. She 
 wished she had never found the composition, and 
 almost made up her mind to confess, but, alas, only 
 almost. 
 
 She turned and tossed till nearly ten o'clock, and 
 then fell asleep, and dreamed that, just as she was read- 
 ing the composition before the school, her Aunt Amy 
 appeared, and claimed it as her own, thus showing her 
 niece's wickedness. She awoke with a scream that 
 brought her mother to her bedside. Dell's first thought 
 was to tell her mother all, and, without waiting a 
 moment, she confessed her sin. 
 
 After that, Dell's compositions were her own. 
 
 ESMERALDA MURIEL Lfi GRAND. 
 
 POLLY'S NECKLACE. 
 
 "Oh, mamma," exclaimed little Polly More. "To- 
 morrow is my birthday, and what are you going to give 
 me for a present?"
 
 172 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " What do you want?" asked Mrs. More. 
 
 " I should like a necklace of some sort. Oh, papa," 
 bounding toward her father, " are you going to give me 
 something?" 
 
 " What would you like me to give you ? " 
 
 " Oh, anything," said Polly. 
 
 So the next morning, Polly found by her bedside, 
 when she woke up, a pretty little coral necklace, and a 
 red purse with seventy-five cents in it, and a penknife. 
 
 Three or four weeks after, Polly went to visit her 
 uncle, who lived in the country. He was a farmer, and 
 it was haying time, and he was getting in the new hay, 
 and Polly liked to play in the hay with her cousin May. 
 One day, as they were playing there, her coral necklace 
 came unclasped and fell into the hay, She hunted a 
 long time, but could not find it. 
 
 Polly went home the next week sorrowing, but the 
 next spring, when the cows had eaten up all the hay, 
 the news came that May had found the necklace, and 
 Polly was happy again. 
 
 HlLDEGARDE GENEVIEVE MONTAGUE. 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 TO MY MOTHEK. 
 
 (A Lament.) 
 
 Oh, mother dear, why hast thou gone, 
 And left thy Cricket all alone ? 
 The tears flow often from my eye, 
 And oft, indeed, I almost cry. 
 
 Should danger chance to come to thee, 
 While thon are sailing on the sea, 
 With sorrow would our hearts be torn, 
 And we would be here all forlorn.
 
 "THE ECHQ." 173 
 
 Perhaps thou may fall from the deck, 
 Before papa thy fall could check, 
 Perhaps they could not rescue thee, 
 And then, alas ! what grief to me. 
 
 Of course papa might pull thee out, 
 Or else some burly sailor, stout. 
 Oh, dear mamma ! I pray thee, strive 
 To keep thyself, for us alive ! 
 
 And dear papa, we miss him, too, 
 Almost as much as we do you. 
 We long to see his dear old face, 
 And fold him in our close embrace. 
 
 AndMarjorie and Donald, too, 
 We miss you all, but mostly you. 
 Oh, hurry and grow very strong, 
 That we may have you back ere long. 
 
 SERETTA CAKLILLIAJT. 
 
 Miss Zaidee and Miss Helen Ward have decided that 
 they will patronize the ocean hereafter for their daily 
 bath, rather than the tanks in the cheese factory. 
 
 A SAD ACCIDENT. 
 
 The other day our editor, and one of the valuable 
 contributors to this paper, were seated on two posts, 
 playing the manly game of bean -bag. The bag was 
 coming to the editor, but somehow, when he grabbed 
 for it, it fell on the ground. Our editor immediately 
 sprang after it, but, in doing so, his dress caught on the 
 post, and he hung up there. He was rescued by Miss 
 Le G. He is now doing well.
 
 174 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 POOR PATTY. 
 
 Little Patty looked very poor indeed. She sat on a 
 rough stone that was used as a door-step, with her head 
 resting on her hand. Her beautiful golden curls fell 
 way below her waist, over her white neck and shoulders, 
 which her ragged dress did not hide. 
 
 Patty had been stolen by gypsies three years before, 
 when she was seven years old. She was very pretty, 
 and because of that the gypsies had stolen her to sell. 
 One night she ran away from the gypsies, and during 
 the day she wandered on till she came to a large town. 
 When it was night again, she was tired and hungry, 
 and she sat down on a door -step and fell fast asleep, 
 and here she was found by Mrs. Bruce, who took her 
 home, thinking she could make her useful in running 
 errands. 
 
 So Patty was sitting on the door-step when a rough 
 voice called from inside the house, "Be off with you, 
 you lazy thing ! Did n't I tell you an hour ago to be off 
 for the milk? Be off with you, I say." 
 
 Poor Patty got off rather slowly, for she did n't feel 
 well, and ran down the street and did n't stop till she 
 got to the store. But coming home she did n't run so 
 fast, for her head ached, and when she got home Nan 
 Bruce scolded her. In a few minutes Patty went up- 
 stairs to her poor garret, where she slept, and threw 
 herself upon the bed, and cried herself to sleep. When 
 she woke up she had a high fever, and in a short time 
 she was delirious. Xan was much alarmed, and sent 
 for the doctor, who said she had scarlet fever, and he 
 got a good nurse for her. For three months no one 
 expected she would recover, but after that she began to 
 get well.
 
 "THE ECHO." 175 
 
 One morning, when she was nearly well, she said 
 suddenly to the doctor " Doctor, it seems to me as if I 
 had seen you before." 
 
 " You have, I guess," said the doctor, laughing. " I 
 have been here every day for three months." 
 
 " I don't mean that," said Patty, " but I feel as if I 
 had seen you before those people took me off." 
 
 " How old were you when they took you off ? " asked 
 the doctor, who knew she had been stolen. 
 
 " I think I was seven, for it was on the very day after 
 my birthday, I remember." 
 
 "Why, / had a little girl that was stolen the very 
 day after she was seven years old," said the doctor. 
 " She was carried off by gypsies." 
 
 " Why, the gypsies were the very people that carried 
 me off, too." 
 
 " Patty, would you like to go and live with me ? " 
 asked the doctor. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I would. Perhaps I am your little girl, for 
 I am not hers." 
 
 " Perhaps so. I will see if I can find out about it." 
 The doctor asked Nan Bruce, and she told him all she 
 knew. He then made arrangements to take Patty 
 home with him, for he knew now she was his own little 
 girl. So Patty went to live with the doctor, and she 
 had lovely dresses of porcelain to wear, and a servant to 
 stand in statu quo behind her chair at dinner. 
 
 SERETTA CAKLILLIAN. 
 
 MARRIAGES. 
 
 Hopvine Woodbine. On the 21st, Mr. Hopvine, to 
 Miss Woodbine, both of Marbury. No cards.
 
 176 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 DEATHS. 
 
 On the first of June, little Robin, only child of Mr. 
 and Mrs. Redbreast, aged two months, four days, and 
 three hours. 
 
 Little Robin, thou hast left us, 
 We shall hear thy chirp no more ; 
 
 Very lonely hast thou left us, 
 And our hearts are very sore. 
 
 On the 7th of June, two little kittens, in the barn of 
 Mrs. Maxwell. We grieve greatly at recording the 
 deaths of these loving and lovely twins, so sad and 
 unexpected. They had a large circle of admirers 
 and friends, who feel greatly overcome that these 
 beautiful young twins are called away. 
 
 Also, Wallops, older brother of the above, departed 
 this life on June 10th. He was found dead on the 
 seashore. 
 
 Poor little Wallops, 
 Died of eating scallops. 
 
 (He really ate crabs, but crabs would n't rhyme.) 
 We '11 see him frisk no more, 
 For we found him on the shore, 
 All stiff and cold, expiring in his prime. 
 
 TOWN TOPICS. . 
 
 Miss Cricket Ward has decided to sell out her peanut 
 stand at cost. 
 
 Mr. Will and Archie Somers have cleaned the Gentle 
 Jane, and they are now prepared to take out parties at 
 reasonable rates. Come early and often. 
 
 Mr. Kenneth Ward has nearly recovered from a seri-
 
 "THE ECHO." 177 
 
 ous wound he received when he was eloping with his 
 aunt's watch. The path of the transgressor is hard. 
 It was the stones in this case. 
 
 Miss Hilda Mason, of East Wellsboro', is expected 
 soon to spend a week with her friend, the editor. 
 
 WIT AND HUMOUR. 
 
 ["None of the wits are original, auntie," put in Cricket, here. 
 " The boys sent some of them in, and they said they were, but 
 I don't believe them, and I copied mine, anyway."] 
 
 How to get along in the world. Walk. 
 
 A little girl visiting the country for the first time, 
 saw a man milking. After looking a few minutes, she 
 asked, " Where do they put it in ? " 
 
 When is a man thinner than a shingle ? When he 's 
 a-shaving. 
 
 What was the first carriage Washington ever rode 
 in ? When he took a hack at the little cherry-tree. 
 
 What did Lot do when his wife became a pillar of 
 salt? He got a fresh one. 
 
 " Mike," asked a man, addressing a bow - legged 
 friend, "are them legs of yourn natural or artificial?" 
 " Artificial, me lad. I went up in a balloon, and walked 
 back." 
 
 GENERAL ITEMS. 
 
 Letters were received from Dr. Ward and family, that 
 they are enjoying themselves in the Swiss mountains. 
 Mamma is better. She says they have such funny little 
 boys there.
 
 178 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Mr. Billy Ruggles is going to have a new shiny hat. 
 Kenneth sat down on his other one, and it got all 
 flattened out, and it looks like fury, and grandma says 
 he can't wear it any more. 
 Bridget has a new dishpan. 
 Luke says he has forty-eight chickens. 
 Maggie Sampson's little donkey can't go nearly as 
 fast as Mopsie and Charcoal Ward. 
 
 Mr. Simon has his summer stock of fresh red and 
 white peppermints in. He won't have any chocolates 
 till August, because he bought such a large stock in 
 May. 
 
 There is to be a church sociable in the Methodist 
 church. I wish auntie would condescend to let us go, 
 for we haven't ever been to a Methodist sociable. I 
 never went to any kind of a sociable. 
 
 Miss Hildegarde Genevieve Montague wishes to say 
 that, if she was a boy, she does n't think it would be 
 any fun to cut up pieces of whalebones, and put them 
 under the sheet in his sister's bed. 
 
 There will be a special and very private meeting of 
 the E. C. in some very secret place, to decide whether 
 we will let the boys be honorary members or not. If 
 they are elected honorary members, we will turn them 
 out any time that they don't behave themselves very 
 well indeed. 
 
 THE END FINIS.
 
 "THE ECHO." 179 
 
 The tail-piece was Cricket's ambitious flight 
 of fancy. She drew a long breath and sat down, 
 amid vigorous applause. 
 
 "That's very creditable, my little author- 
 lings," said auntie, encouragingly. " Cricket, 
 you did more than your share, I think, if you 
 copied all that, and wrote a story and a poem 
 beside." 
 
 " I had them all thought before, auntie. I 
 made up the poetry the day I was caught on the 
 mud-flat. I love to think out stories." 
 
 " Oh-h ! " groaned Edna. " How any one can 
 think out stories just for fun, I don't see. I 'd 
 almost rather fight skeeters. Mine 's the stupid- 
 est story that ever was, but I don't believe I slept 
 a wink for three nights, while I was making it 
 up. You don't catch me writing any stories, 
 girls, when I am editor." 
 
 " I am afraid you were n't intended for an 
 author, my dear," said her mother, laughing. 
 
 " Somebody must read the stories," said Edna, 
 defensively.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE HAIRS OF HIS HEAD. 
 
 THE Maxwell family were coming home from 
 church along the sandy, sunny road. Eunice 
 and Edna, arm in arm, were ahead, laughing 
 and talking over some profound secret. Will 
 and Archie mimicked them behind, while grand- 
 mamma and Auntie Jean, under a generous black 
 sun-umbrella, strolled slowly along some distance 
 in the rear. Cricket, in the misery of a dainty 
 organdie, which she must keep clean for another 
 Sunday, and with the unhappy consciousness of 
 her Sunday hat of wide, white Leghorn, which, 
 with its weight of pink roses, flopped uncomfort- 
 ably about her ears, walked along by herself, in 
 an unusually meditative frame of mind. She 
 refused, with dignity, the boys' proposal to walk 
 with them, and told the girls it was too hot to 
 go three abreast. 
 
 Presently, down a cross street, she spied a 
 familiar figure, tall and bent, with a head of 
 bristling hair, and a high silk hat, it was 
 Billy, and she instantly ran to meet him. Billy
 
 THE HAIRS OF HIS HEAD. 181 
 
 could never be induced to attend the little Epis- 
 copal chapel where Mrs. Maxwell went, but 
 " favoured his own meetin'-'us," he said, which 
 was the little white Unitarian church by the 
 post-office. 
 
 "Folks didn't set easy in Mrs. Maxwell's 
 church," he often said, " and he did n't like to 
 see a minister in a white petticoat, with a black 
 ribbund around his neck." It did n't seem re- 
 spectful to him to have so much to do with the 
 service. But Billy was very devout in his own 
 way, and never missed service nor Wednesday 
 evening prayer-meeting in his own church. 
 
 " H'lo, Billy ! " cried Cricket, beaming. Don't 
 you want to carry my prayer - book ? I want to 
 get those wild roses." 
 
 Billy was only too delighted. 
 
 " Had a good sermon ? " pursued Cricket, in 
 very grown-up fashion, as they walked along, 
 side by side, after the roses were secured. 
 
 "Oh, very decent, very decent," answered 
 Billy, who always nodded from the text to 
 " Finally." 
 
 " What was it about ? " went on Cricket, feel- 
 ing that she must give a Sunday tone to the 
 conversation.
 
 182 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Billy took off his hat and scratched his head, 
 to assist his ideas. 
 
 "'Bout 'bout very good things," he said, 
 vaguely. " We sang a pretty hymn, too." 
 
 " Did you ? What was it ? " 
 
 " That hymn about ' Hand Around the Wash- 
 rag.' I 've heard you a-singin' it." 
 
 "Hand around the wash-ra,gl Why Billy 
 Ruggles, what can you mean ? " 
 
 " Yes," insisted Billy, who had a good ear for 
 music in his poor, cracked head. " You was 
 singin' it las' night." 
 
 " 1 can't imagine what you mean, Billy. When 
 we were on the piazza, do you mean ? We did n't 
 sing anything about wash-rags, I'm sure. We 
 didn't sing but three things, anyway, because 
 grandma had a headache." 
 
 " It was the first thing you sang," persisted 
 Billy. 
 
 " Oh h ! " Rally Round the Watchword," 
 and Cricket, regardless of her Sunday finery, 
 sat down on a stone to laugh. " You funny 
 Billy ! " 
 
 Billy grinned, though he did not see the joke. 
 
 " That 's as bad as what Helen insisted they 
 sang last Christmas, in the infant class, some-
 
 THE HAIKS OF HIS HEAD. 183 
 
 thing about ' Christmas soda 's on the breeze ! ' 
 I don't know what she means," said Cricket, for- 
 getting that Billy would not understand. It 
 was such a relief when any one else, even old 
 Billy, mispronounced words, and thus gave her 
 a chance to laugh at them. It was her heed- 
 lessness that made her make so many mistakes, 
 for her quick eyes flashed along the page, taking 
 in the meaning and general form of the words, 
 without grasping the exact spelling. 
 
 " Hope you heard a go'od sermon," said Billy, 
 making conversation in his turn. 
 
 " Oh, yes, very. I listened to almost all of it. 
 Mr. Clark said something about something being 
 as many as the hairs of your head, and there 
 was a bald-headed man who sat right in front 
 of us, and he only had the teentiest bit of hair, 
 just like a little lambrequin around his head. 
 So I thought I could easily count his hairs, be- 
 cause they were so straight and so long, and so 
 few of them, anyway. And, Billy, do you know, 
 I got so interested that I began to count right 
 out loud once, and I stood up, right there in 
 church, Billy, while the minister was preaching, 
 to see round his head better, and Eunice pulled 
 me down. I was so ashamed."
 
 184 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Billy looked so shocked that Cricket hastened 
 to add : 
 
 " There were n't very many people who saw 
 me, though, for we sat pretty far back. I did 
 listen to the sermon after that, though. I had 
 only counted up to two hundred. I just wonder 
 how many hairs a person has on his head, any- 
 way. I mean a person with the regular amount." 
 
 " Three hundred ? " hazarded Billy, hazily. 
 
 " No, indeed ; more than that. Many as a 
 thousand, I guess. Oh, Billy, you have a 
 splendid lot of hair ! S 'pose I count it this 
 afternoon ? " 
 
 Billy chuckled assent. 
 
 "Let's go out in the orchard, back of the 
 beach. It's all quiet and shady there. The 
 girls will be down by the rocks, and the boys 
 are going for a long walk. So there will be 
 nobody to interrupt us. It will take most all 
 the afternoon, I guess, but I've always wanted 
 to know how many hairs grow on a person's 
 head. I'll come for you after dinner, Billy, 
 don't forget ! " and, having arrived at the house, 
 Cricket skipped up the porch steps, and went 
 up -stairs to relieve herself of the bondage of 
 her pink organdie as soon as possible.
 
 THE HAIRS OF HIS HEAD. 185 
 
 After dinner, Cricket found her willing slave 
 waiting for her on the piazza. 
 
 " Let 's go right off before the others come 
 out, for we don't want a whole raft of children 
 after us," she said, and so they went around the 
 house, through the side gate, into the orchard. 
 
 " Here 's a lovely, shady spot. You sit right 
 down on this hummock, Billy," ordered Cricket. 
 " Your hair is just fine for counting," she went 
 on, taking off Billy's shining beaver. 
 
 Billy looked much flattered. He certainly did 
 have a good crop for the purpose. His hair was 
 rather coarse, very wiry and bristling, about two 
 inches long, and as clean as a daily scrubbing in 
 soap and water could make it. 
 
 " Now, where shall I begin ? You see you 
 have n't any part, Billy, and there 's no place to 
 start from." 
 
 " Seem 's if my hair would n't stay parted," said 
 Billy, meekly, looking troubled by the fact. 
 
 " I '11 part it right in the middle, and you put 
 your hand up and hold this side down, while I 
 count the other. I '11 begin right in front. One 
 two three there, Billy, you moved your 
 hand a little, and some of your hair slipped right 
 up again, and I 've lost my place."
 
 186 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " I did n't go to do it," said Billy, pressing his 
 hand down harder on the rebellious hairs. " Is 
 that all right now ? " 
 
 " Yes, that will do. Now, hold still," and 
 Cricket began again. 
 
 " Ninety-nine one hundred oh, Billy ! " 
 for an inquiring wasp came whizzing near, and 
 Billy ducked suddenly to avoid it. " Now I 've 
 lost that, and I 've got to begin again. Billy, you 
 have n't any string in your pocket, have you ? 
 Then I could tie up your hair in bunches when I 
 get to one hundred, and count the bunches after- 
 ward." 
 
 But Billy had n't a string. 
 
 " 1 '11 run up to the house and get some," said 
 Cricket, darting away. She was back in a few 
 minutes, with a small pasteboard box in her 
 hand. 
 
 " This is better than string," she panted. " I 
 got auntie's little box of rubber bands. Now we 
 can count. Never mind holding your hand up, 
 for I can begin anywhere." 
 
 She gathered up a lock of hair, counted to one 
 hundred, and twisted an elastic band around it, 
 close to the roots. 
 
 "That's one hundred. Now, for the next,"
 
 THE HAIRS OF HIS HEAD. 187 
 
 she said, with much satisfaction. She counted 
 on, industriously, and soon poor Billy's head 
 bristled with queer-looking little bunches on one 
 side. She was much too engrossed to notice the 
 effect at first. 
 
 Some time later, grandmamma and Auntie 
 Jean, strolling leisurely through the orchard, saw 
 ahead of them a funny sight: Billy, sitting 
 meekly on a hummock, his hands on his black 
 broadcloth knees, while Cricket stood behind 
 him, bending over his head, all over the top of 
 which bristled plumy bunches of white hair, 
 which stood up rampantly. 
 
 " What in the world is that child doing, mak- 
 ing Billy look like a porcupine ? " exclaimed 
 grandma, standing still in amazement, unseen by 
 the two. 
 
 " Playing Horned Lady, I should think. But 
 I dare say she has purpose in her mind. Listen. 
 Why, mother ! she 's actually counting Billy's 
 hair!" 
 
 At this moment, Cricket, pausing to snap an- 
 other elastic band around the last bunch, for the 
 first time noticed the effect of her hair dressing. 
 
 " Oh, Billy ! if you don't look just as if you 
 had a lot of little feather dusters growing on
 
 188 CRICKET AT THE SEASHOEE. 
 
 your head ! " she cried, holding on to her sides 
 as she laughed. 
 
 Billy looked disturbed. He decidedly objected 
 to being laughed at. He put up his hand to feel. 
 
 " Don't take them down," said Cricket, push- 
 ing his hand away. " I 'm going on. My ! what 
 a lot of hair people have. Let 's see how many 
 bunches I have. Twenty -two twenty-three. 
 That makes twenty-three hundred, and there's 
 lots more to do, yet. I don't wonder people 
 mean so much when they say, as many as the 
 hairs of your head, do you ? " 
 
 " How many, Cricket ? " asked auntie, laugh- 
 ing, as she and grandma drew nearer. 
 
 Who 's that ? Oh, auntie ! " Cricket looked 
 a little abashed. " I 'm only counting Billy's 
 hair," she explained. " Mr. Clark said this 
 morning that, if we counted our mercies, we 
 should find them as many as the hairs of our 
 heads." 
 
 " It might be easier to count the mercies," 
 said auntie, still laughing. 
 
 " Yes, I thought of that coining home from 
 church," said Cricket, going on with her work of 
 gathering up wisps of Billy's hair into plumes, 
 and fastening them by the bands, though with-
 
 THE HAIRS OF HIS HEAD. 189 
 
 out counting. " Then I did n't know exactly 
 what my mercies are, excepting that 'Liza says 
 it is a mercy I 'm not twins." 
 
 " What had you been doing when she said 
 that, Jean ? " immediately asked grandma, who 
 never used her nickname. 
 
 " Nothing, much," said Cricket, " only 'Liza 
 gets cranky sometimes, you know." 
 
 " That won't do, Cricket," said Auntie Jean, 
 scenting mischief. " Tell me what you did." 
 
 " Really, it was n't much. It was this morn- 
 ing, and 'Liza had Helen in the bath-tub bathing 
 her, and I went into the nursery a moment, and 
 Zaidee was in bed, and she said her leg hurt her, 
 and 'Liza was going to rub it with ' Pond's Ex- 
 trap,' that's what she calls Pond's Extract, 
 you know," taking breath, " and I only meant 
 to help 'Liza, really and truly. So I took down the 
 bottle and began to rub Zaidee's legs. I thought 
 the Pond's Extract seemed to have gotten dread- 
 fully sticky, and it was all thick and dark like 
 molasses, and I could hardly rub at all with it, 
 and Zaidee said she did n't like it, and she cried. 
 But I thought it was the best thing to do for 
 her, so I told her a story to keep her quiet, till 
 I got both her legs all rubbed. Then 'Liza
 
 190 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 came in, and wanted to know what made Zaidee's 
 legs so sticky, and the sheets and her nightdress 
 were pretty bad, because she wiggled so that I 
 spilled some. 'Liza just snatched the bottle away, 
 very unpolitely, when I only told her that I had 
 been helping her because she was so busy, and 
 Zaidee wanted her legs rubbed. ' It 's Kemp's 
 Balsam,' she said, ' and I 'm giving it to Helen 
 for her cough, and it 's not Pond's Extract, at 
 all.' But it was a Pond's Extract bottle, auntie, 
 truly, so how should I know ? And then she 
 said, ' it was a mercy I was n't twins,' " finished 
 Cricket, looking much aggrieved. 
 
 Auntie laughed till the tears came into her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Kemp's Balsam, of all sticky things ! " she 
 said. " Poor Zaidee ! did she have to be 
 scraped ? " 
 
 " ' Liza said she guessed she would have to 
 scrape her," admitted Cricket, reluctantly. 
 " And the things on the bed, and her nightdress, 
 had to be changed. I kept thinking it was 
 pretty funny looking stuff for Pond's Extract, 
 but I thought perhaps it was rancid." 
 
 " Rancid Pond's Extract ! Oh, what a girl ! " 
 laughed grandma, but patting her head, consol-
 
 THE HAIRS OF HIS HEAD. 
 
 ingly, " Our little Jean is very nice, but I think 
 I 'm glad, myself, you 're not twins." 
 
 " There 'd be two of us to fall through ceil- 
 ings, then," meditated Cricket, " for I suppose if 
 I was twins we 'd be always together like Zaidee 
 and Helen. No, I 'm glad there is only one of 
 me. It's more convenient. I don't want to 
 count any more, now, Billy, but would you mind 
 keeping your hair that way for a day or two, so 
 I could count whenever I like ? " 
 
 And if auntie had not interposed in his behalf, 
 I do not know but Billy might still be walking 
 the streets of Marbury with his crested decora- 
 tion.
 
 CHAPTER Xin. 
 
 A WRESTLING MATCH. 
 
 " THAT 's it ! Prime ! Now, again ! " shouted 
 Will, encouragingly, and Cricket, in her blue 
 gymnasium suit, panting and laughing, put her 
 shoulder to Archie's again, and stood in position. 
 Will was giving her a lesson in wrestling, at her 
 particular request, and she was proving an apt 
 pupil, for the slender, elastic little figure and 
 supple muscles made up for any lack of strength. 
 
 " Good, good ! " repeated Will, as Cricket, 
 swaying and tugging, and bending backward 
 almost double, came up like a steel wire. 
 " Bravo ! we '11 soon have you champion lady 
 wrestler in a dime museum. At him again ! 
 good enough ! hurray ! " for Cricket, slipping 
 through Archie's grasp like a knotless thread, 
 took him suddenly unawares, and fairly and 
 squarely tripped him up. 
 
 "By jove!" ejaculated Archie, still on his 
 back, too much surprised to get up. 
 
 " Well done, Miss Scricket ! " applauded Will. 
 " Bet you can't do it again."
 
 A WRESTLING MATCH. 193 
 
 " Come over here, and I '11 try you" offered 
 Cricket, and Will, laughingly, put his arm 
 around her waist. But his superior size and 
 strength soon told, and Cricket found herself 
 down on her back. 
 
 "But you do well, youngster," said Will, 
 patronizingly. " Try that twist once more that 
 you tripped Archie up on. That 's a good one ! 
 Now, again ! That would fetch anybody if they 
 were n't expecting it." 
 
 " I 'm tired now," said Cricket, throwing her- 
 self on the grass, for they were in the orchard. 
 " Let 's rest awhile." She clasped her hands 
 above her head, and lay back on the grass. 
 Archie drew himself up on to one of the low 
 gnarled trees and balanced himself in a very 
 precarious way directly over her head. 
 
 " If you fall off that limb, you will come 
 straight down and break my nose," warned 
 Cricket. 
 
 " There is n't enough of it to break, miss," 
 said Archie, balancing himself with care, as he 
 tried to see if he could kneel upon a horizontal 
 branch without holding on. 
 
 " You '11 have to be of a very equilibrious 
 nature to do that," said Cricket, rolling hastily
 
 194 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 out of her dangerous position, just in time, for 
 Archie overbalanced himself, and came down 
 with a crash. 
 
 " Now, see what you 've done," said Archie, 
 sitting up and feeling of his back. " You spoke 
 at the wrong time. I might have broken my 
 neck." 
 
 Cricket meditated a moment, then addressed 
 the sky, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Is n't it funny that ^when anything happens 
 to a boy all by his own fault, he always says to 
 somebody, ' See what you 've made me do.' 
 Anybody would think Id made Archie fall 
 there." 
 
 "Well, did n't you?" 
 
 " When Donald can't find anything that he 's 
 gone and lost himself," went on Cricket, still 
 addressing the sky, " he always says he wishes 
 the girls would let his things alone. Boys are 
 the funniest." 
 
 " If they 're any funnier than girls, I '11 eat 
 my boots," said Archie, firing green apples at 
 a mark. " Girls are so finicky. There 's Edna, 
 squeals if you touch her. If I give her hair just 
 one little yank, you would think I 'd pulled her 
 scalp off. If I give Will a good punch " illus-
 
 A WKESTLING MATCH. 195 
 
 trating with a resounding whack "he doesn't 
 squeal." 
 
 " No, but he hits back," said Cricket, laugh- 
 ing, as Will levelled Archie, by a vigorous 
 thump. " If Edna should hit you a few times 
 like that, you would n't tease her so." 
 
 " And she 's always so careful of her clothes," 
 went on Archie, ignoring this point ; " can't do 
 this, because she'll spoil her apron, can't do 
 that, because she '11 muss her hair." 
 
 " Boys ar' n't talked to about their clothes as 
 girls are," said Cricket, with a sigh. " If you 
 just heard 'Liza talk when we tear our clothes ! 
 She has to mend them. Would n't I be happy 
 if I could go around all the time in my gymna- 
 sium suit. I feel so light and airy." 
 
 " And girls are so affected," pursued Archie. 
 " You would n't walk with us yesterday coming 
 home from church, and why not? 'Cause you 
 had your best bonnet on, and you carried your 
 head too high. So affected ! " 
 
 " It was n't affectedness, it was got - to - do- 
 it - ness," said Cricket, stoutly. " If you had 
 to go to church with a great, big, flappy, 
 floppy hat on, that joggled your ears all the 
 time, 'cause the roses were so heavy, and if you
 
 196 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 had to be careful to keep your pink organdie 
 clean for next Sunday, and if you had a teasy 
 cousin, who, likely as not, would take hold of 
 your arm, and crunch your sleeves all down, 
 most probably you'd have walked all by your- 
 self, too, and tried to keep yourself respectable 
 so 'Liza would n't scold. But you 're a boy," 
 finished Cricket, with a burst of envy, " and so 
 you don't bother about clothes. And, anyway, 
 boys will never admit they're to blame about 
 anything," returning suddenly to the original 
 charge. 
 
 " Because they never are, of course," answered 
 Archie, turning a back somersault. " It 's always 
 somebody else's fault." 
 
 " Did you hear auntie tell that funny story 
 about Archie, last night, Will ? " asked Cricket. 
 
 " Funny story about me, miss ? There never 
 was any funny story about me." 
 
 " This was a little bit funny, anyway. Auntie 
 said you were n't but three years old, and she 
 was visiting with you, at Kayuna. It was early 
 one morning, before breakfast, and the piazza 
 had just been washed up, and was n't dry yet. 
 Papa was reading a newspaper, and you were 
 running up and down the piazza, showing off."
 
 A WRESTLING MATCH. 197 
 
 " Showing off ! " repeated Archie, with a sniff 
 of disdain. 
 
 " Yes, sir, showing off. Auntie said so. She 
 said you always liked to, even then. Stop firing 
 apples at me. You nearly hit me that time. 
 You stood still just in front of papa, and gave a 
 little kick at him, and your foot slipped, and 
 down you went on your back. And you got up, 
 as angry as could be, and you said, ' Now see 
 what you made me do,' and you gave another 
 kick at him, and down you went again. Then 
 auntie said you screamed out, ' Now you 've done 
 it again. You 've done it again.' And she says 
 that ever since, you always say that, no matter 
 what happens to you." 
 
 " There comes grandma," said Archie, chang- 
 ing the subject, immediately, since he knew by 
 long experience that Cricket was apt to get the 
 best of him, in such conversations. 
 
 " She 's been to see that sick woman," said 
 Cricket, jumping up and running to meet her. 
 She had the most unbounded admiration for her 
 stately, handsome grandmother, who by some 
 strange attraction of opposites, had an especially 
 soft place in her heart for her hoydenish little 
 namesake.
 
 198 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Grandmother Maxwell was by no means an 
 old lady yet, in spite of her flock of grandchil- 
 dren, for she was only just sixty, and was as 
 erect and vigorous, in spite of her snow-white 
 hair, as a girl. Beauty -loving little Cricket 
 thought her dead perfection, and adored her. 
 
 " What a hot little face," said grandmother, 
 lightly touching Cricket's cheek. Cricket put 
 her arm about her grandmother's waist, which 
 she was just tall enough to do, and walked along 
 beside her. 
 
 " The boys have been teaching me to wrestle," 
 she explained. " I 'm learning fast, grandma. 
 It 's just as easy. Get up, Archie, .and let me 
 show grandma how I can throw you." 
 
 " Throw me ! well, I like that. I happened 
 to stumble on a stone, grandma, and Cricket 
 thinks she threw me. She could n't do it again 
 to save her life." 
 
 " Come and try, then," said Cricket, invitingly. 
 But Archie declined, on the plea of its being too 
 hot. 
 
 "Isn't he lazy, grandma?" said Cricket, dis- 
 dainfully. " But I can show you, grandma, how 
 we do it. Put your arm around me this way, and 
 take hold of my hand. Now then, see. I try to
 
 A WRESTLING MATCH. 199 
 
 get my foot around your ankle, quickly, and give 
 a little jerk, and pull this way 
 
 And to the unbounded astonishment of all 
 three, stately grandma suddenly and unexpect- 
 edly measured her length on the grass, with 
 Cricket on top of her. Cricket's illustration had 
 been altogether too graphic. 
 
 " Jean ! " gasped grandma, as she went over. 
 Cricket rolled over and sprang to her feet in a 
 flash. 
 
 " Oh, grandma ! please excuse me ! I 'm so 
 sorry ! I did n't mean to. I never thought I 
 could do it so quickly, for you 're so large. I 
 only meant to show you." 
 
 Will and Archie were bending over grandma, 
 to help her rise. Her foot was twisted under 
 her. 
 
 " Wait, boys," she said. " I 'm lying on my 
 foot." 
 
 It is not easy for a large person who is lying 
 on her back, with her foot doubled up under her, 
 to find her centre of gravity. It was several 
 minutes before she could be helped to a sitting 
 position. She was very pale, although she 
 laughed. 
 
 " Children, I 'm really afraid, Jean, you ab-
 
 200 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 surd child! how did you throw me over so 
 quickly ? I really am afraid that my ankle is 
 sprained. I don't think I can step on it. See 
 if you can help me to stand, boys, and I '11 try it." 
 
 " Oh, grandma ! " groaned Cricket, in horror. 
 " Have I sprained your ankle ? " 
 
 " It probably is n't bad, dear," said grandma, 
 quickly. " At any rate, you did n't mean to 
 Hush, Archie ! " as that young man gave Cricket 
 a reproachful 
 
 " Now you have done it ! " 
 
 Will and Archie, being stout, well-grown boys, 
 easily raised grandma to her feet, or, to her foot, 
 rather, for she immediately found she could not 
 bear her weight on her left ankle, and she sat 
 down rather suddenly again. 
 
 " Dear me ! this is a dignified position for a 
 grandmother," she said. " Never mind, dear. 
 It was only an accident. Take off my shoe, 
 please, for my foot is swelling, I think. Archie, 
 go for Luke, and tell him to bring a piazza-chair, 
 and I think you can manage to carry me in on 
 that, can't you? Then tell Auntie Jean that 
 I 'm here, and have sprained my ankle, and tell 
 her to have some arnica and bandages ready 
 when I get there. Why, don't cry, darling," as
 
 A WRESTLING MATCH. 201 
 
 two big tears welled up in Cricket's gray eyes, 
 and splashed over her cheeks, where her dimples 
 were entirely out of sight, at the dreadful thought 
 that she had sprained grandma's ankle. 
 
 In a few moments Auntie Jean came flying 
 across the orchard, bandages and arnica in hand, 
 while the waitress came after with a water- 
 pitcher. 
 
 " Mother ! " said Mrs. Somers, in greatest sur- 
 prise. " How did you manage to fall and sprain 
 your ankle on this perfectly level ground ? " 
 
 " It 's rather humiliating to confess that I 
 was wrestling with my granddaughter, and that 
 she got the best of me," returned grandma, pat- 
 ting Cricket's hand. " It 's my first and last 
 pugilistic performance." 
 
 " It's my fault," burst out Cricket, " and I 
 ought to be put in jail. Will had been showing 
 me how to wrestle, and he had taught me such 
 a good twist, that I caught Archie on, and I 
 thought I'd just show grandma just barely 
 show her, auntie, and I put my foot around her 
 ankle, and somehow, she went right over like 
 ninepins, and doubled up her foot. Oh, grandma ! 
 can you ever walk again ? " 
 
 Grandma's lips were getting rather white with
 
 202 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 pain from her foot, but she laughed again, and 
 said, brightly : 
 
 " Yes, indeed, little maid, I will be all right 
 in a week or two." 
 
 " A week ! " groaned Cricket. " I thought you 
 were going to say to-morrow." 
 
 Auntie Jean had slipped off grandma's stock- 
 ing, and was bathing her rapidly swelling foot 
 with arnica. In a few minutes, Will, and Archie, 
 and Luke appeared, bringing a piazza-chair, and 
 two stout poles. Auntie Jean bandaged the 
 foot temporarily, and then Luke and Will helped 
 grandma up in the chair. They slipped the 
 poles lengthwise under the chair, and Luke stood 
 ready to lift the front ends as Will and Archie 
 took the rear ones. 
 
 "Wait a moment," said Aunt Jean, as the 
 procession was ready to start. " Can't I fix a 
 support for your foot, mother ? It will hurt it 
 dreadfully to hang it down." 
 
 " Put a stick across the poles, and the cushion 
 on it," suggested Cricket, quickly, " and lay her 
 foot on that." She picked up a stout stick, and 
 laid it in place, while Archie put the cushion on 
 it, and adjusted grandma's foot on it. 
 
 " That 's a capital suggestion," said grandma,
 
 A WKESTLING MATCH. 203 
 
 approvingly. " That feels very comfortable. 
 Are you sure you can lift me, boys ? " 
 
 " Could carry a ton this way, Mrs. Maxwell," 
 said Luke. " All ready, boys. Hist all together, 
 now." And as they all " histed " the procession 
 moved. Auntie Jean and Cricket walked on 
 either side, keeping the cushion and stick in 
 place. So grandma finally arrived, was helped 
 up the piazza steps, and into her own room, 
 which was, fortunately, on the first floor.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 PLAYING NURSE. 
 
 POOR Cricket went around with a face as long 
 as her arm, all the rest of the day, dreadfully 
 cast down by this unfortunate result of her 
 wrestling lessons. For a while, she was almost 
 ready to vow that she would never do anything 
 again that the boys did, but when she thought of 
 all the lovely things this would cut her off from, 
 she could n't make up her mind to go that length. 
 
 Auntie Jean soon assured her that the sprain 
 was not at all serious, and that the inflammation 
 seemed to be going down already, but her heart 
 was very heavy. She would not go sailing with 
 the boys, nor sit under the rocks with the girls, 
 and at last she buried herself in her next story 
 for the Echo. A very tragic and mournful 
 tale it was, of a naughty little girl, who was left 
 in charge of her small brother, but who ran away, 
 all by herself, up garret, to play, and when she 
 went back she found her poor little baby brother 
 had fallen into the bath-tub, which was left half 
 full of water, and was drowned. Picturing the
 
 " SUE BURIKD HERSELF IX THE STORY FOR 
 'THE ECHO'"
 
 PLAYING NURSE. 207 
 
 remorse of her heroine, and how they finally 
 brought the baby back to life, although he had 
 been in the water all the afternoon, of course 
 Cricket did not mind a little thing like that, 
 somewhat relieved her mind. By supper -time 
 she had sufficiently recovered so that she could 
 allow herself to smile. 
 
 Will came in from the post-office, waving a 
 letter that finished the work. It was from Hilda 
 Mason, saying that she could come on Friday 
 next, as Cricket, with auntie's permission, had 
 written, asking her to do, to spend a week. 
 
 " Goody ! goody ! " cried Cricket, dancing 
 around, with her dimples quite in evidence again. 
 " Won't we have fun ! and she can write a story 
 for the Echo,' too." 
 
 " What bliss ! " remarked Archie, bringing all 
 her curly hair over her face with a sweep of his 
 arm. 
 
 " It 's a great honour to be a contributor to a 
 paper, Mr. Archie, so," shaking back her hair, 
 and pulling his. 
 
 " Especially for one that pays so liberally as 
 the ' Echo,' " teased Archie. 
 
 " You 're a model of sarcasticity, I suppose 
 you think," said Cricket, tossing her head. " Aun-
 
 208 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 tie, will you take us to Plymouth some day ? I 
 know Hilda will want to see Plymouth Rock." 
 
 " Watch her that she does n't carry it off in 
 her pocket," advised Archie. 
 
 " And all the other interesting things in Ply- 
 mouth," went on Cricket, turning her back on 
 him. " And we '11 go over to Bear Island for a 
 picnic, girls." 
 
 " Yes, if you '11 promise " began Edna. 
 
 " Goodness, yes ! if you won't say anything 
 more about it," interrupted Cricket, hastily. 
 " And, oh, auntie ! could n't we have some cha- 
 rades ? Some real, regular charades, I mean, 
 not little ones all by ourselves." 
 
 " I '11 be in them, if you '11 have something I 
 like," offered Archie, condescendingly. 
 
 " If we have any charades, you may be sure we 
 won't ask you," returned Cricket, crushingly. 
 " I '11 have Will, though. He 's a very good ac- 
 tress, and he doesn't spoil everything, as some 
 other people do." 
 
 " Thank you," said Will, making a bow, with 
 his hand on his heart. 
 
 " I 'm out of it, then," said Archie, " for I 
 know I 'm not a good actress." 
 
 " Of course I meant actor. There is n't much
 
 PLAYING NURSE. 209 
 
 difference, anyway. Just two letters. Anyway, 
 we '11 have a beautiful time. You '11 have Edna, 
 Eunice, and I '11 have Hilda." 
 
 " What do you suppose would happen if it 
 should chance to be a rainy week, and I should 
 have you all on my hands to entertain in 
 the house, now, while grandma is laid up ? 
 Would there be any house left ? " asked Auntie 
 Jean. 
 
 " The cellar," said Eunice. " But I 'd be sorry 
 for you, auntie." 
 
 " And I for myself. But I don't think it will 
 rain, and you '11 probably have a lovely time to- 
 gether." 
 
 " Don't expect too much," advised Will. 
 " Anticipation is always better than reality, you 
 know." 
 
 " It would n't be, if people always had as good 
 a time as they expected," remarked Cricket, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 There was a shout at this. 
 
 " Exactly, little wiseacre. That 's the trouble," 
 laughed auntie. " Write to Hilda to come on 
 the 4.10 train Friday afternoon, and we '11 all be 
 ready to help you both have as good a time as 
 you anticipate."
 
 210 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Cricket departed to write the following letter : 
 
 " DEAREST OLD HILDA : 
 
 " I was so glad to get your letter that I nearly jumped 
 out of my shoes. We '11 have the greatest fun that ever 
 was, and auntie will take us to Plymouth, and I '11 
 guess Will will sail us out beyond the Gurnet Light, 
 and we can have a picnic on the island, perhaps. What 
 do you think I've gone and done to-day? I expect 
 you '11 say it 's just like me, and I 'm sure it is n't like 
 anybody else, and I 'm awfully morterfied. I wrestled 
 with grandmother, my grandmother Maxwell, when she 
 did n't know I was going to, and I tipped her right over 
 accidentally, without meaning to, and I Ve almost 
 broken her leg ! ! ! Is n't that too dreadful f I did n't 
 quite break her leg, but I sprained her ankle, so she 
 can't walk. I never knew anybody to do such terrible, 
 morterfying things as I do. I do hope I '11 get to be 
 proper and good when I 'm grown-up. It would be very 
 nice to be born proper, and very nice for my mother, 
 but then I would n't have had so much fun. I want to 
 see you so much that I can't wait, hardly. It seems a 
 million years till Friday. Remember you 're to stay a 
 whole week, and we '11 have loads of fun. Auntie says 
 come on the 4.10 train, and we '11 meet you. 
 " Yours very lovingest, 
 
 "JEAN MAXWELL." 
 
 The next morning, after breakfast, when 
 grandma was up and dressed, with her sprained
 
 PLAYING NURSE. 211 
 
 foot resting on a cushioned chair in front of her, 
 Cricket presented herself at the door. 
 
 " I 've come to be your legger, grandma," she 
 announced, " and I '11 read to you, or amuse you, 
 or play dominos or halma with you, or anything 
 you like. Or we might play go-bang. That 's 
 very interesting." 
 
 " Thank you, little granddaughter," said grand- 
 mother, much amused, but touched as well. " I '11 
 be very glad to have a legger, but, after all, it 
 wasn't my eyes that were sprained, so I can 
 read very well for myself. I could n't think of 
 keeping you in all this beautiful day." 
 
 But Cricket begged to be allowed to stay with 
 her, and stay she did. A deft little nurse she 
 proved. She initiated grandmother into the 
 mysteries of go-bang, and the " Chequered Game 
 of Life ; " she read in the morning papers the 
 articles that grandmother pointed out, and let 
 herself be taught checkers and backgammon, 
 showing surprising quickness in learning. At 
 last she nearly paralyzed her grandmother by 
 voluntarily suggesting her going and bringing 
 her knitting, to knit a little, " while we just 
 plain talk for a change," she said. 
 
 So the little maid ensconced herself in a chair
 
 212 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 near grandma's large one, with her wash-rag. 
 Grandma took up her knitting, also, and the 
 needles clicked, socially. 
 
 " Why could n't you tell me a story ? I al- 
 ways forget to talk while I 'm knitting, so I 
 can't be very entertaining," said Cricket, labori- 
 ously pushing her needle through her very tight 
 stitches, and twisting her face into a very hard 
 knot. The boys said Cricket knit as much with 
 her face as with her fingers.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A KNITTING BEE. 
 
 " WHAT shall the story be about ? " asked 
 grandma, her needles flashing as they flew. 
 
 " When you were a little girl," answered 
 Cricket, promptly, in the usual formula. " Oh, 
 grandma ! I have an idea ! have n't you a box 
 of old things that I could look over, and select 
 something for you to tell me a story about, like 
 that dear old grandma in ' Old-Fashioned Girl ? ' ' 
 
 " Yes, Jean, I have the very thing, and it 's 
 a good idea. Bring me that little table that 
 stands in the corner. That 's right. Put it 
 close beside me. Now, open these drawers 
 yes, pull them way out. Now, lift that dividing 
 piece. You see the bottom is inlaid. Touch the 
 second one of the little black inlaid circles." 
 
 " A secret drawer ! " cried Cricket, excitedly. 
 " Oh, grandma ! how book-y ! " 
 
 " Yes. Grandpa brought this table from China, 
 years ago. It is full of secret places." 
 
 Cricket touched the spring, and the supposed
 
 214 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 bottom flew up, showing a box below. The little 
 stand was really more of a cabinet than a table, 
 though it had a flat top and rolled easily on its 
 castors. In the box thus opened were all sorts 
 of things. 
 
 " They are all old keepsakes," said grandma. 
 " Find something you want to hear about." 
 
 Cricket lifted a string of oddly carved beads. 
 
 " This, grandma. Is n't it funny ? Has it an 
 interesting story ? " 
 
 Grandma took the beads in her hands, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " It 's an old keepsake, to be sure, and I used 
 to be very fond of it when I was a girl, and I 
 wore it a good deal, but I don't know that there 
 is any story connected with it. But I '11 tell you 
 how I got it. It taught me a bit of a lesson. 
 I '11 tell you the story, and you can guess the 
 lesson for yourself, if you can. 
 
 "You know I lived in Boston when I was 
 a girl. I went to a private school there, of, per- 
 haps, twenty girls. It was kept by Miss Sarah 
 and Miss Abbie Cartwright. We all loved Miss 
 Sarah, but none of us liked Miss Abbie, and 
 I don't wonder at it when I think how little she 
 understood girls.
 
 A KNITTING BEE. 215 
 
 "We used to recite seated in a semi -circle 
 around the teacher, and all whispering was strictly 
 forbidden during the recitation. One day but 
 I must stop here, and tell you that we all wore 
 white stockings and low shoes then. We never 
 had any high shoes at all. Our white stockings 
 must always be fresh and clean, of course, and 
 I always put on a clean pair every day. A soiled 
 stocking would have made us feel simply dis- 
 graced. Coloured stockings were perfectly un- 
 known as far as I remember, and I should have 
 felt dreadfully mortified to wear anything but 
 white." 
 
 " Oh, I know ! like Ellen in the ' Wide, Wide 
 World,' " broke in Cricket. " Don't you remem- 
 ber her horrid aunt, who dyed all her white 
 stockings gray, and she felt so badly ? I never 
 knew why. Would n't I feel silly in white 
 stockings now ! " 
 
 " Yes, but if everybody wore them, it would be 
 different. There was one girl, Phosbe Dawson, 
 in my class, who was a very untidy girl. She 
 always had hooks off her dress, or a hook and 
 eye put together that did not mate, or her dress 
 was broken from its gathers. Her stockings 
 were always grimy around the ankles. Ours
 
 216 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 were always smoothly gartered up, but hers 
 wrinkled down over her shoes." 
 
 " Yes," nodded Cricket, " Sort of mousque- 
 taire stockings." 
 
 Grandma laughed. " That exactly describes 
 it. I know now there was some excuse for her 
 getting her stockings so dirty, for she had a 
 much longer walk to school than any of us did, 
 as she .came from Charlestown, over a long, 
 dusty road. 
 
 " So, one day, as I was saying, the recitation 
 was just over, and Miss Abbie was talking about 
 something just to fill up the time till the class 
 bell should ring. Phoebe Dawson sat just oppo- 
 site me in the half circle. I can see her now. 
 The part in her hair was as uneven as possible 
 - what we used to call a ' rail-fence ' parting, 
 and her braids straggled unevenly down behind 
 her ears. She had forgotten the brooch that 
 should have fastened her collar. The facing of 
 her dress was ripped and was hanging down, and 
 her pantalets were actually dirty." 
 
 " Pantalets, grandma ? " 
 
 "Yes, we all wore pantalets, beautifully 
 starched and ironed, that came nearly to the 
 tops of our village-ties, as we called them. We
 
 A KNITTING BEE. 217 
 
 had very fancy ones for Sundays, and plainer 
 ones for every day, but we were very particular 
 about them. Phoebe sat with her feet crossed 
 and actually sticking out in front of her which 
 was considered very bad manners and her 
 stockings were very grimy. 
 
 " I forgot about the rule of no whispering, and 
 I said, suddenly, to Dolly Chipman, who sat on 
 the other side of me, ' Pearl-gray stockings are 
 the latest thing from Paris. You can always de- 
 pend on Phoebe Dawson to set the style pig- 
 sty-le.' 
 
 " Instantly Miss Abbie's cold, gray eyes were 
 on me. 
 
 " * Did you speak, Miss Winthrop ? ' for we 
 were all called, very formally, by our last names. 
 
 " ' Yes'm,' I answered, very meekly. 
 
 " ' Very well, then, we will hear the remark 
 you made, and judge if it was necessary enough 
 to excuse you for breaking the rule.' 
 
 " I fairly gasped, for nothing would have made 
 me repeat the remark, and hurt Phoebe's feelings. 
 In spite of her untidiness, we all liked her, for 
 she was always good company. Besides, we 
 really respected her, for she was one of the best 
 scholars in the class.
 
 218 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " ' Please excuse me, Miss Abbie,' I said, get- 
 ting furiously red. ' It was a silly little remark 
 I made, and I had no business to make it.' 
 
 " ' We will be the best judge of that, Miss Win- 
 throp,' she said, in her severest tones. Just then 
 the class bell rang outside the room. This hap- 
 pened to be the last class of the morning. Some 
 of the girls got up to go, but Miss Abbie mo- 
 tioned them down. 
 
 " ' If you choose to keep the whole class wait- 
 ing,' she said to me, ' it will not be pleasant, but 
 we can wait. I hope you enjoy feeling we are 
 all waiting for you.' " 
 
 " How perfectly horrid of her ! " cried Cricket. 
 
 " I really think it was, myself. Well, the girls 
 groaned softly, and frowned at me, and motioned 
 ' tell,' with their lips, but nothing would have in- 
 duced me to have repeated my silly little speech, 
 and make them all laugh at Phoebe. 
 
 " I was ashamed of myself already, for saying 
 a mean thing of one of my classmates, even to 
 one girl, and I certainly did not intend to re- 
 peat the remark for the benefit of the whole 
 class. 
 
 " ' I can't tell you before them all, Miss Abbie,' 
 I said, desperately, ' but I will tell you all by
 
 A KNITTING BEE. 219 
 
 yourself. It was something I had no business to 
 say.' 
 
 " ' If it was fitting to be said to one girl, it is 
 fitting to be heard by all,' she said, inexorably. 
 I have always thought that she was very dull not 
 to see that it must have been some uncompli- 
 mentary personal remark possibly about her- 
 self, for all she knew." 
 
 " Oh, I wish it had been ! " broke in Cricket. 
 
 " I am very glad it was n't. But we were 
 well -trained girls in those days, and rarely 
 thought of grumbling at anything our teachers 
 did. We might not like them, but I don't re- 
 member talking about them much. 
 
 " ' We are waiting,' she said, again, after a 
 moment. 
 
 " ' I can't tell you before the class,' I repeated, 
 obstinately. ' But I '11 tell you by yourself. I 'm 
 ashamed I said it, anyway.' 
 
 "Perhaps Phoebe had noticed me glance at 
 her, or perhaps she knew, more than we realized, 
 that we sometimes made fun of her untidiness, 
 for she suddenly said, good-naturedly : 
 
 " ' Do tell what it is, if it 's anything about 
 me, I sha' n't care. I 'd much rather go home 
 and get my dinner.'
 
 220 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 " ' Was it about Phoebe ? ' asked Miss Abbie, 
 instantly. 
 
 "To this point-blank question, I had to say 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 " ' Tell it,' urged Phoebe, good-naturedly. 
 
 '"Well, then,' I began, desperately, but I 
 could not say it. I hesitated, and then added, 
 quickly : 
 
 " ' I said I wondered how Phoebe Dawson al- 
 ways managed to keep herself looking so nice ! ' 
 
 "A little surprised look, then a laugh, went 
 around the class. Every one knew that I was 
 not speaking the truth, and I dare say Miss Abbie 
 knew it herself. She cast a very sharp glance at 
 me, but, nevertheless, dismissed the class. Every 
 one surrounded me in the cloak-room, laughing, 
 and teasing me about what I had said. But I 
 only waited till Miss Sarah was at liberty, and 
 then I went to her and told her the story. I was 
 very angry, and in a state of great indignation 
 against Miss Abbie, and finally I burst out with, 
 ' She made me tell that lie, herself ! ' 
 
 " ' Hush ! my dear ! ' Miss Sarah said, gravely. 
 ' If you think, you will see that the trouble was 
 that your sense of politeness was stronger than 
 your sense of truth. Again, if you hadn't
 
 A KNITTING BEE. 221 
 
 broken the rule about whispering in class in the 
 first place, nothing would have happened. So I 
 think we won't blame Miss Abbie. I will tell 
 her about it myself, and nothing more will be 
 said about it to you.' 
 
 " I thought Miss Sarah was very good and 
 kind, but my conscience troubled me very much. 
 Phoebe Dawson, too, made me feel thoroughly 
 ashamed of myself. When she came to school 
 the next day she brought me this lovely string 
 of beads, which she said her uncle had brought 
 her home from India. 
 
 " ' You had all that trouble on my account yes- 
 terday,' she said, in her good-natured way, ' so I 
 brought you these to make up. My uncle brings 
 me quantities of things, so you must take these, 
 to please me,' for, of course, I protested against 
 taking them. 
 
 " ' You need n't have minded about telling what 
 you really did say,' she went on. ' I know I 'm 
 dreadfully untidy, but if I had a mother, or a 
 sister, or any one to look out for me, I 'd be 
 different, perhaps,' and her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " Well, I grew very fond of Phoebe Dawson 
 after that, and soon I went to see her. She had 
 a lovely home, full of beautiful things, but every-
 
 222 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 thing was as untidy and uncared for as she was her- 
 self. Phoebe's mother had died when she was a 
 baby, and her father was a great scholar, who was 
 always buried in his books, and the two servants 
 managed things as they liked. But Phoebe im- 
 proved very much as she grew older, and we 
 remained friends always." 
 
 " Is she living now ? " asked Cricket, turning 
 over the beads with interest. 
 
 " No, she died several years ago, and she was 
 the grandmother of your little friend, Emily 
 Drayton. 
 
 " Was she ? How funny ! And what was 
 the lesson you learned, grandma ? " 
 
 "You may guess that for yourself," said 
 grandma, smiling. " Will you choose again ? "
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TWO LITTLE RUNAWAYS. 
 
 CRICKET dived into the box again. 
 
 " What 's in this paper ? " she asked. 
 
 Grandma took the folded sheet, and carefully 
 opened it. There were two soft curls of bright 
 gold hair, fastened to the middle of it by sealing 
 wax. 
 
 "These are two little curls I cut from the 
 children's heads when they were small. My 
 children, I mean. Your mamma's and Auntie 
 Jean's. It was the first time their hair was ever 
 cut, and how badly I felt, to have to have it 
 done ! " 
 
 " But why did you do it ? " asked Cricket. 
 
 " Naughty little things ! I had to." 
 
 "Oh, do tell me about that. I just love 
 hearing about mamma when she was naughty ! " 
 begged Cricket, turning over the soft gold curls. 
 " It 's just exactly like Kenneth's and Helen's,
 
 224 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 is n't it ? And mamma's hair is n't very much 
 darker, now, is it ? What a shame you had to 
 cut it ! " 
 
 " Indeed it was. I was so proud of their lovely 
 hair, and they were such lovely children, every- 
 body said. They were little things. Auntie 
 Jean was nearly five, and your mamma was 
 three. I was visiting my sister in Philadelphia 
 with them both. It was in May, but it was very 
 warm. The children were still in the habit of 
 taking an afternoon nap. One day they were 
 put to bed, as usual, about two o'clock, and my 
 sister and myself went down -town for some 
 shopping. I had a new nursemaid, whom I left 
 in charge, of course. But she was careless, I 
 suppose, and probably went down-stairs to gossip 
 with the other servants. 
 
 " Presently the children woke up, and as they 
 found there was no one with them, they slipped 
 off the bed by themselves. They were entirely 
 undressed and in their little night-clothes, with 
 bare feet. They ran around up-stairs for a while, 
 and then, finding nobody about, they ran down- 
 stairs. The front door stood ajar, so out they 
 slipped, and pattered away down the street. 
 They were always independent children, and not
 
 TWO LITTLE RUNAWAYS. 225 
 
 a bit afraid of anything, so when they found they 
 were out all alone by themselves, they decided 
 to go and ' see uncle.' They had been taken to 
 his office down - town several times. My sister 
 lived in what was then a very quiet part of Phil- 
 adelphia, and near their home were several vacant 
 lots. The children strayed in here to pick some 
 grasses and weeds, which they thought were 
 flowers. 
 
 " Unfortunately, a lot of burdocks grew there, 
 and, of course, the children picked them, and 
 stuck them together, with great delight. Prob- 
 ably some of them got caught accidentally in the 
 hair of one of them, for, as far as we could make 
 out from their story afterwards, they twisted 
 them in each other's curls, till there was just 
 a mat of burs, all over their heads. Then, of 
 course, when they tried to take them out, they 
 only made matters worse, so they gave it up 
 and trotted on. Presently they came to a grocery 
 store, where all sorts of things stood outside of 
 the door. 
 
 " Strawberries were in the market, so these 
 little wretches instantly plunged both hands into 
 a box of them, and stuffed them into their mouths. 
 Next they sat themselves down in a corner made
 
 226 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 by some big boxes, and quietly helped themselves 
 to a box of strawberries apiece. You can imag- 
 ine the state of their little night-dresses, when 
 they were through with this feast, just a mass 
 of strawberry stain. They were so small and so 
 quiet, that no one in the store noticed them for 
 some time, and no one chanced to pass. At last 
 a lady came by, and spied them. Of course she 
 instantly saw they were runaways, and spoke to 
 them. 
 
 " < We is n't yunning away,' Jean insisted, 
 'we is only going to see uncle.' 
 
 " ' But where is your mamma ? ' persisted the 
 lady. 
 
 " ' Her 's gone to see uncle, too,' said Jean. 
 The lady knew they had probably run away from 
 some neighbouring house, so she went into the 
 store to ask a clerk to come and see if he knew 
 them. But while she was gone, the children 
 slipped away down the side street. The clerk 
 told us all about this afterwards, for it was a 
 store where my sister often went. 
 
 " Then the little ones probably wandered 
 around a good deal, though we never knew 
 where, except that they came to some water in 
 a gutter, somewhere, and took to it like ducks.
 
 TWO LITTLE KUNAWAYS. 227 
 
 They must have paddled in it for some time 
 ' washing their feets,' Jean told us afterwards, as 
 an excuse. 
 
 " Of course, by this time they had collected a 
 crowd around them, for just imagine what they 
 looked like ! Nothing on but white night-dresses 
 
 I mean, of course, that were originally white, 
 
 but now spattered a foot deep with muddy 
 water, and stained all over with crushed straw- 
 berries ; and they were barefooted, with their 
 golden curls stuck full of burs, till they looked 
 like little porcupines." 
 
 " Grandma ! how funny ! and to think that 
 was mamma," broke in Cricket, in great enjoy- 
 ment of the picture. 
 
 " They must have looked as badly as Zaidee 
 and Helen did when they came in from swim- 
 ming in the tanks at the cheese factory the 
 other day." 
 
 " Worse, if anything, because the strawberry 
 stains made them look as if they had been 
 through the wars, poor little mites. At last a 
 policeman took them in charge." 
 
 " Think of mamma being actually arrested ! 
 That 's worse than anything that 's ever hap- 
 pened to me," said Cricket.
 
 228 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " That's your good fortune," laughed grandma. 
 " Your wash-rag is n't getting along very fast, 
 is it? I thought you were going to knit as I 
 talk." 
 
 " Oh, I am ! I am ! " cried Cricket, scrabbling 
 up her wash -rag, which she had entirely for- 
 gotten. " Go on, grandma." 
 
 " So a policeman took them in charge. He 
 said the children did n't seem a bit frightened, 
 but took everything very coolly, insisting all 
 the time that they were on the way to see 
 uncle. 
 
 " ' Who is uncle ? ' asked the policeman, and 
 Jean said : ' He 's Uncle Darling, and he lives 
 on Wide Stweet.' 
 
 " ' But what 's his name ? ' asked the police- 
 man, thinking the children were calling him by 
 their pet name. 
 
 " ' Uncle Darling,' Jean kept repeating. 
 
 " < We '11 take them to the station, and report 
 at headquarters,' said the policeman, finally." 
 
 " Think of mamma's actually being taken to 
 the lock-up," murmured Cricket. 
 
 " But the children were very determined little 
 things, and insisted that they were going to 
 Wide Stweet to see uncle. Presently a gentle-
 
 TWO LITTLE KUNAWAYS. 229 
 
 man passed, and asked the reason of the commo- 
 tion. 
 
 " ' Runaways,' somebody answered, whereupon 
 Jean instantly piped up, ' I say I is n't yunning 
 away. I is goin' to Wide Stweet to see Uncle 
 Darling.' 
 
 " ' Darling ? ' said the gentleman. ' I know 
 Darling of Broad Street. These little scraps 
 must have slipped away from his house. Call a 
 cah, policeman, and we '11 go and see.' 
 
 " So a cab was called, and the policeman 
 mounted the box, and the man got inside with 
 the children, and off they went to Broad Street, 
 which Jean called Wide Stweet. 
 
 "Imagine your great -uncle's feelings, when 
 suddenly his office door opened, and a gentleman 
 appeared leading those two ridiculous looking 
 little creatures. 
 
 " Their faces were grimy, their hair bristling 
 with burs, their feet splashed with mud, their 
 little straight night-gowns stained with straw- 
 berry juice from neck to hem, looking start- 
 lingly like blood at first sight, but in spite of 
 all, the most beaming of smiles, for they had 
 had a beautiful time. 
 
 " ' We has turn to see 'oo,' said Margaret, giv-
 
 230 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 ing him a very burry hug, for as she threw her 
 arms around his neck, the burs in her hair 
 caught in his heavy beard. Margaret screamed 
 as her hair pulled, and they had some trouble to 
 get her disentangled. 
 
 " ' We has n't yunned away, Uncle Darling. 
 We has came in a carriage,' said Jean. 
 
 " The gentleman was a business friend of your 
 great - uncle's. He delivered the children over 
 into his charge, telling him the story. Of course 
 he started home with them immediately, knowing 
 how frightened we would be if we got home and 
 discovered that they were missing. 
 
 "Fortunately for my peace of mind, we had 
 been detained later than we expected to be, and 
 so just as we got out of the horse-cars in front 
 of my sister's house, a cab drew up at the door, 
 and out got your uncle, and with him two of the 
 most disreputable looking little objects you ever 
 saw. We could hardly believe our eyes. 
 
 " ' We has turn home aden,' Margaret called, 
 cheerfully, as she saw us. 
 
 " Well you can imagine how quickly we got 
 both those children into the house, and into the 
 bath-tub, where we satisfied ourselves that they 
 were not bleeding to death.
 
 TWO LITTLE RUNAWAYS. 231 
 
 " We had to get the first coating of dirt off be- 
 fore we could undertake to disentangle those 
 dreadful burs. My heart sank at the sight, I 
 must say. I was so proud of their beautiful 
 golden hair. They each had so much of it, and 
 it was as fine as floss ; but this only made it the 
 more difficult to get those sticky burs out. My 
 sister and I each took a child, and began at the 
 burs. We worked at them a long time, but 
 they were so hopelessly twisted in, and the fine 
 silky hair was so wound up in them, that at last 
 I had to get the scissors, very sorrowfully. Way 
 underneath, close to their necks, we found these 
 little locks, that by some work and careful snip- 
 ping we managed to get quite free of burs, so I 
 cut them off to preserve. I simply cut the rest 
 off, in any way, as best I could, to do for the 
 night, as it was too late to take them to the 
 barber's that afternoon. 
 
 " What dreadful looking little things they were 
 then ! Did you ever see a sheared sheep ? Well, 
 they looked just like that, for I had snipped their 
 hair here and there, as best I could, and it stood 
 up in little, rough, jagged, irregular tufts all 
 over their heads. I almost cried as I looked at 
 them. ' 1 had thought I had two pretty chil-
 
 232 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 dreii,' I said, mournfully. Their heads looked 
 so comically small, and their necks like little 
 pipe-stems. 
 
 " Of course the barber clipped their hair 
 smooth the next day, but I felt for a long time 
 as if I could not let people see them. Their 
 heads were simply lost in every hat and bonnet 
 they had." 
 
 " To think of my mother having been such a 
 little scallawag" murmured Cricket, in an awe- 
 struck tone. 
 
 " Poor little things ! They had a sad time 
 the next day, for their feet were so swollen and 
 cut that they couldn't get on a shoe. I can't 
 imagine how they managed to walk so far on 
 the hot pavements with their tender little 
 feet." 
 
 " I know. The palms of your feet get dread- 
 fully hot and sting -y when you go barefoot. 
 I 've tried it. Did they ever run away 
 again ? " 
 
 " No, never, I believe. That one experience 
 was enough. And now, my small maid, will 
 you go and ask Luke to harness Mopsie for you ? 
 I would like to send a note over to Mrs. Carter, 
 if you would please take it for me."
 
 TWO LITTLE KUNAWAYS. 233 
 
 Cricket sprang up with a bound. 
 
 " Would you really like me to go ? Oh, thank 
 you! I mean, of course, I love to stay with 
 you, but 
 
 " Yes," said grandma, smiling, " and I enjoy 
 my little maid's company extremely, but I think 
 she had better have some fresh air, this lovely 
 day." 
 
 Cricket gave a hop, skip, and jump. 
 
 " Thank you so much for your stories, grand- 
 ma, dear. I 'd love to go with your note. Oh, 
 George W., you bad, bad cat ! You've gone and 
 snarled your Aunt Zaidee's wash-rag all up while 
 I was listening to a beautiful story about your 
 Grandma Ward. Look, grandma ! he 's made 
 it just as worse as burs ! " 
 
 " I '11 put it in order, while you 're gone," 
 said grandma, taking the very hopeless looking 
 knitting. 
 
 " Hand me my writing things, and I '11 have 
 the note ready when you come back for it. 
 Really, I shall be tempted to sprain my ankle 
 again, Jean, if it brings me such a dear little 
 nurse." 
 
 "We've had a lovely time, I think," said 
 Cricket, giving her dear, comforting grandma a
 
 234 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 prodigious hug. " Let 's have a knitting bee 
 again, sometime, grandma. Perhaps, I'd get 
 my wash-rag done this summer if we did."
 
 HILDA'S ARRIVAL
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HILDA ARRIVES. 
 
 OP course, Cricket went with Auntie Jean to 
 the station on Friday afternoon to meet Hilda. 
 
 Hilda had never stayed at the seashore before, 
 for her mother was very fond of the mountains, 
 and went every summer to the Catskills. There- 
 fore, there was everything to show her. Think 
 of it. She had never even been in bathing in 
 the ocean ! This fact interested Cricket more 
 than anything else, and so ths very first morn- 
 ing she got Hilda up early to get a dip before 
 breakfast. 
 
 " Ouch ! " squealed Hilda, shrinking back, as 
 the cold waves touched her bare toes. " Why, 
 Cricket ! it 's cold ! " 
 
 "It won't be as soon as you're fairly in," 
 urged Cricket. " Just make a dash, and go in all 
 over. Wade out to the raft, and dive off. You 
 don't know what fun it is to go slap-dash into 
 the water and get all gurgled," which was 
 Cricket for choked. 
 
 "But I'll get all wet" objected Hilda,
 
 238 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " besides, it 's so cold, Cricket," and she drew 
 back further up on the beach, and stood poking 
 her toes into the warm sand. 
 
 " Get wet ? " said Archie, politely. " No, you 
 would n't. We keep dry water for any one 
 making a first attempt." 
 
 " And if you should get wet, what would it 
 matter ? A bathing - suit is n't a party dress, 
 Hilda," urged Cricket. " We usually expect to 
 get wet when we go into the water, anyway." 
 
 " Mother, may I go out to swim ? " sang 
 Archie, teasingly. 
 
 "Come on, Hilda. Just go right forward, 
 ker-chunk," and Cricket made a run and threw 
 herself full length in the shallow water. She 
 rolled over and over, and came up sputtering, 
 and laughing. " Don't be afraid, you goosey 
 girl." 
 
 "I'm not a goosey girl. Suppose I should go 
 out there and get drowned ? " 
 
 " You can't drown. Archie, and Will, and I, 
 all can swim, and we '11 save you. Will taught 
 me this summer. It 's lovely," and Cricket led 
 Hilda, hanging back and protesting, into the 
 water, ankle deep. 
 
 The truth really was, that Hilda did not want
 
 HILDA ARRIVES. 239 
 
 to wet her pretty new bathing - suit. She was 
 such a careful, orderly little person, that she did 
 not like the idea of doing anything so untidy. 
 Besides, Cricket's dripping, clinging skirt looked 
 very uncomfortable. 
 
 Just then, Will and Archie, at a private 
 signal, threw themselves, splash, into the water 
 on each side of her, spattering her well, and 
 Cricket, seizing the opportunity, cried out : 
 
 " Now, you're a little wet, you must go under 
 right away, or else you '11 take cold," and Hilda 
 yielded very unwillingly, and protesting that she 
 was freezing to death. She squealed and choked 
 as the boys ducked her under the water, and she 
 really thought for one dreadful minute that her 
 last hour had come. 
 
 " If this is bathing, I think it 's awful" she 
 said, with emphasis, as soon as she could speak. 
 The boys had piloted her as far as the swimming 
 "raft, and, imitating Cricket's example, she climbed 
 up on it, trying to rub off her wet face with her 
 wetter sleeve, and looking perfectly miserable. 
 " Archie, I 've got to have a handkerchief, or 
 a towel, or something, to dry my face. Please 
 bring me one." 
 
 The boys both laughed at her. " Oh, cer-
 
 240 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 tainly," said Archie. " I '11 telephone to the 
 laundry to send down a cartload right* away. 
 We usually have Luke put a supply of clean ones 
 on the raft, all ready for us. He must have for- 
 gotten it this morning." 
 
 " You need n't laugh at me. I do hate to have 
 my face stay wet." 
 
 " Dive again, then," advised Will, setting the 
 example. " Come, Cricket, race me to the rock 
 and back again." 
 
 Cricket promptly dived, but Hilda could not be 
 coaxed off her perch till the others were ready 
 to go in. So, altogether, the first bath was not 
 a great success, and Hilda almost made up her 
 mind that she would never try it again, for it 
 was, by no means, such fun as it was reported to be. 
 But over Sunday she had time to forget her sen- 
 sations, and when Cricket sprang up early Monday 
 morning, as usual, Hilda finally concluded she 
 would try it again. To her great surprise per- 
 haps it was partly because the first newness was 
 worn off her bathing-suit she found that she 
 enjoyed it a great deal more than the first time. 
 She actually waded around with the water nearly 
 up to her shoulders, and half learned to float, 
 with Will supporting her. The next morning
 
 HILDA ARRIVES. 241 
 
 completed the lesson, and she began to feel very 
 independent. 
 
 On Monday morning Auntie Jean drove the 
 /our girls over to Plymouth, to see the sights 
 there. Hilda was full of eagerness and curiosity 
 to see the famous Rock on which the Pilgrim 
 Fathers landed. 
 
 " What ! that little thing ? " she exclaimed, in 
 surprise and disgust, when a small affair was 
 pointed out to her, a rock not even very near the 
 water, but well up on the land, with a stone can- 
 opy over it. " How could they land on that little 
 thing?" 
 
 "Archie says they came up on stilts," said 
 Cricket. " Of course they had to land on Plym- 
 outh Rock, 'cause the histories said they must." 
 
 " I never believed that," said literal Edna. 
 " How could they get the stilts ? " 
 
 " Oh, Edna ! " cried Eunice, while the rest 
 laughed. 
 
 " Then they cut a piece off, and carried it up 
 in front of Pilgrim Hall, and put it in front of it, 
 and built a railing round it, the first thing they 
 did," went on Cricket. 
 
 " But there was n't any Pilgrim Hall, then," 
 persisted Edna.
 
 242 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Edna, you 're a goose," said Eunice. " Now 
 auntie, can we go and see the Statue of Faith, 
 and the Pilgrim Hall, and the burying-ground, 
 and all ? " 
 
 They had a merry day in the quaint old town, 
 with all its relics and curiosities. They went all 
 over Pilgrim Hall, and saw the famous sword of 
 Captain Myles Standish, the cradle of Peregrine 
 White, the little baby who was born at sea on 
 that famous voyage, and hosts of other inter- 
 esting things. 
 
 Then they did a little shopping, and bought 
 some candy to eat on the way home. This was 
 always part of the fun. 
 
 "When will they have Captain Myles Stan- 
 dish's statue up ? " asked Eunice, with her mouth 
 full of caramels, as they passed Captain's Hill. 
 
 " Very soon, I believe, now. The pedestal is 
 nearly done, and the statue is already there." 
 
 " Yes, I know," nodded Cricket. " We walked 
 over there one day last week. Hilda, the statue 
 is there waiting, and it's all boxed up like a 
 chicken-coop. You can see the statue right be- 
 tween the slats. And, oh, auntie ! Archie made 
 such a funny joke. Will had just asked Eunice 
 why it would be the highest statue in the world,
 
 HILDA ARRIVES. 243 
 
 but she knew the answer 'cause it's Myles 
 above the sea, of course. Then Archie stooped 
 over and poked a stick through the slats, and 
 said : ' Let 's tickle his feet and see if he smiles.' 
 Was n't that good ? " 
 
 " I don't see a bit of sense to it," declared 
 Edna, " and I did n't then. Eunice and Cricket 
 just laughed and laughed, mamma. Of course a 
 statue could n't smile." 
 
 " Edna, you would n't see a joke if one walked 
 up and bit you," said Eunice. " Archie said : 
 'Let's tickle his feet and see if he's-Myles.' 
 Don't you see ? " 
 
 " If he 's Myles. If he smiles. Oh, yes ! " 
 cried Edna, looking really excited. " I see ! 
 you can take it in two ways." 
 
 " Edna, it 's easy to see your great - grand- 
 father was a Scotchman," said Mrs. Somers, 
 when she could speak for laughing at her very 
 practical little daughter. 
 
 " Why, I don't see what that has to do with it. 
 People laugh at such silly things, mamma. Eu- 
 nice and Cricket just double up over some things 
 that are too stupid for anything." 
 
 " That 's your misfortune, dear. If there was 
 a School of Jokes I should certainly send you to 
 it."
 
 244 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Well, for instance," went on Edna, " I '11 
 leave it to Hilda if this was n't silly. That day 
 when we all walked over to Captain's Hill, we all 
 sat down on some stones to rest. Nobody hap- 
 pened to be saying anything just then, and 
 Cricket began to sing. Archie listened a mo- 
 ment, then he jumped up and started off on a 
 run, as fast as he could go, all around the top of 
 the hill, and came back all puffing and panting, 
 and he said : ' Cricket, I 've run all around the 
 hill, and I can't catch that tune.' The girls 
 thought it was awfully funny ; what, do you 
 think it was funny, too ? " for Hilda went off in 
 a peal of laughter, as well as auntie. 
 
 " Of course," went on Edna, " he could n't 
 tell the tune if he did n't stay and listen to it ; 
 and, perhaps, he would n't have known then," 
 she added, thoughtfully. 
 
 Cricket grew very red, as she always did when 
 any slighting allusion was made to her singing. 
 
 " Archie is a very funny boy, I think," she 
 remarked quickly, to turn the attention of the 
 others from this sore subject. " He is n't as nice 
 as Will, but he 's generally funnier. He gets so 
 mad when Edna says, ' What's the sense to 
 that ? ' when he makes a joke."
 
 HILDA ARKIVES. 245 
 
 "Like yesterday, Mrs. Somers," said Hilda, 
 " when Archie asked us a conundrum, ' How does 
 a sculptor die ? ' do you know it ? The answer 
 is, ' He makes faces and busts.' A'nd he got so 
 mad when Edna only told him that busts was n't 
 correct. He ought to say, ' He makes faces and 
 bursts. ' ' 
 
 " Well, he ought, ought n't he, mamma ? No- 
 body says busts." 
 
 " Edna, you 're hopeless," answered her 
 mother. " And here we are at home again." 
 
 At the supper-table Will announced that he 
 and Archie and the Gentle Jane were all ready 
 to take a sailing party to the Gurnet Lights the 
 next day, if the party so desired. By the clap- 
 ping of hands it was judged that the party did 
 so desire. 
 
 " But about grandma ? " asked Mrs. Somers, 
 when she could make herself heard. " I can't 
 go and leave her for all day when she is so help- 
 less." 
 
 Cricket coloured at the allusion, but she in- 
 stantly said, bravely : 
 
 " If you will go with the others, auntie, I '11 
 stay with grandma." 
 
 "If you stay, Cricket, I'll stay, too," said 
 Hilda, quickly.
 
 246 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " But you can't, Hilda. You 're the party, don't 
 you see ? We 've all been to the Gurnet, and 
 we 're going to get up this picnic on purpose for 
 you. You 've got to go." 
 
 " Yes, you 've got to go," struck in Archie. 
 " It 's like the man who was on his way to be 
 executed. He saw people all running along the 
 street, and he called out to some one, ' No hurry, 
 friend. It can't go on till I get there. I'm 
 the man to be hung.' " 
 
 " Then, since Hilda is the man to be hung 
 she'll have to go. That's certain. And be- 
 sides, children, you can't go to-morrow, for we 
 must give cook a day's notice if she is to pro- 
 vide luncheon enough to last you entirely hollow 
 young people for a whole day. Then I'll see 
 Mrs. Emmons, and perhaps she will come and 
 spend the day with grandma on Wednesday, and 
 we '11 set sail then for the Gurnet Lights. Will 
 that do ? I '11 go over directly after supper and 
 see her, so you can put your minds at rest." 
 
 Mrs. Emmons would be delighted to come and 
 spend the day with grandma, it proved, so the 
 plans for Wednesday instantly began, as if they 
 did not have a whole day before them. The 
 hour of the start must be settled at once. As
 
 HILDA ARRIVES. 247 
 
 it would be low tide at eleven, they must be off 
 at eight in the morning, to get well over the 
 mud -flats before they were exposed. They 
 would go outside the point for a little cruise, 
 if it was not too rough, and then come back and 
 land at the Gurnet, and show all the sights 
 there to Hilda, and eat their luncheon either 
 before or after, as they liked. 
 
 The boys were both good sailors, and under- 
 stood a boat perfectly. Their grandfather 
 Maxwell had trained them well from the time 
 they were wee bits of boys, and even before his 
 death, three years before, he had trusted them 
 to go out alone. 
 
 But the next day the excitement began in 
 earnest, and there was hurrying to and fro, and 
 consultations over what to take, and what to 
 wear, and what to do, and proposals for this, 
 and objections to that, till the whole house was 
 in a whirl. 
 
 " Children, you could n't make more prepara- 
 tion if you were going to Europe," cried dis- 
 tracted auntie, finally, as all the girls burst into 
 her room for the fortieth time, as she was trying 
 to take a nap that afternoon. " I don't know 
 where your sketch - book is, Edna. Yes, wear
 
 248 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 your sailor caps. Of course you '11 wear your 
 sailor suits, and not ginghams. Yours is torn, 
 Edna? Then, my dear, please go and mend 
 it directly. Your fishing - tackle is in the 
 lobby, by the side kitchen door, Cricket. You 
 left it in Billy's room, and he brought it over. 
 Yes, I told cook to make some chocolate cake, 
 Eunice. Now scamper, every one of you. I 'm 
 going to lock my door now, and don't anybody 
 dare to come and disturb for an hour." 
 
 But within five minutes a small voice called 
 through the keyhole, imploringly : 
 
 " 'Scuse me, auntie dear, but could n't we take 
 George W. ? he 's just begging to go, and I 
 know he'll be good." 
 
 " Scat ! " cried auntie, and Cricket scatted. 
 
 " Sha' n't we take some books, in case we get 
 becalmed ? " suggested Eunice, as they all finally 
 rested on the piazza, and tried to think of some- 
 thing else to get ready. 
 
 " Of course. Sometimes we are becalmed for 
 an hour, Hilda, and it 's awfully stupid." 
 
 "I'll take 'Jack and Jill,'" said Cricket. 
 " And, oh, girls, let 's take our blank books and 
 pencils, so we can write on our stories for the 
 ' Echo ' if we want to."
 
 HILDA AKEIVES. 249 
 
 " I won't, and that 's flat ! " said Edna, de- 
 cidedly. " Going on a picnic for fun, and 
 writing stories ! What do you think I 'm made 
 of, Cricket ? " 
 
 " Sugar and spice, and all that 's nice," re- 
 turned Cricket, cheerfully. " Did I tell you, 
 girls, that Hilda is going to write a story for 
 our next ' Echo ? ' ' Our estinguished contribu- 
 tor, Miss Hilda Mason ! ' Does n't that sound 
 fine ? And she 's written some poetry, too ! 
 Is n't she lovely ? " and Cricket hugged Hilda in 
 a sudden burst of affection. 
 
 " This is the first poetry I ever wrote," said 
 Hilda, trying not to look conscious. 
 
 " And it 's lovely ! " said Cricket, approvingly. 
 " Read it to the girls, please, Hilda." And Hilda, 
 waiting for a little urging, though she was really 
 dying to read it, produced her " poem," and read : 
 
 " It was Christmas eve, now remember. 
 
 And out in the cold world alone, 
 A cold night, too, in December, 
 There wandered a poor little one. 
 
 " Waiting in sorrow and weeping, 
 Waiting out there in the cold, 
 Why should she have cause to sorrow? 
 Why, her mother lay there in the mould.
 
 250 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " And where was the child's own father ? 
 
 Was he in the cold ground, too ? 
 No, her father was in the billiard-room. 
 I pity the poor child, don't you ? " 
 
 " That 's too sweet for anything, Hilda ! All 
 you girls are clever but me," sighed Edna, half 
 enviously. 
 
 " I' ve just decided that I '11 be a poetess like 
 Mrs. Browning, when I grow up," said Hilda, 
 calmly. " I never tried writing poetry before, 
 but it 's just as easy. It would be very inter- 
 esting to be a poetess," added Hilda, who was 
 given to day-dreams, in which she was always 
 famous.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A SAILING PARTY. 
 
 IT was not long after dawn, early as that was, 
 when the younger fry were all astir in the Max- 
 well household. The boys were up to see that 
 everything was in order about the boat, and to 
 transport the necessary number of cushions and 
 rugs for the comfort of their passengers. Cricket 
 dragged reluctant Hilda, who dearly loved her 
 morning snooze, out of bed almost as early, 
 though Eunice and Edna lazily turned over for 
 another scrap of a nap. Still, they were not 
 long able to withstand the general buzz of excite- 
 ment, and long before seven they also were up 
 and about, gathering together their various be- 
 longings. Cook had the generous luncheon- 
 baskets all packed, with provision sufficient for 
 a small regiment. Before breakfast everything 
 was on board, the luncheon was packed away in 
 the little locker, and cushions and extra wrap- 
 pings were all in place. 
 
 Breakfast was a hasty ceremony, for the boys
 
 252 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 were eagerly watching the time, and tide, and 
 breeze, and so would hardly give the rest time to 
 eat. It was not quite eight when they mustered 
 their party on the dock. At the last moment 
 Cricket appeared with a small bundle, carefully 
 wrapped in newspaper, the contents of which she 
 absolutely refused to reveal. 
 
 " You '11 know by and by," was all she would 
 say, " and you need n't try to solve into the mys- 
 tery now." 
 
 The breeze favoured the start, and the swel- 
 ling sails swept the Gentle Jane along at a 
 scudding pace. Hilda, who had never been sail- 
 ing before, was delighted at the swift motion. 
 The sky was as blue as blue could be, with flecks 
 of white clouds all over it, the water was spark- 
 ling and clear, and dashed with a delightful little 
 swish against the bow. 
 
 " But what do you do if the breeze stops ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " We stop, too," said Archie, " unless some- 
 body gets out and drags the boat along." 
 
 " Really ? could any one drag this heavy boat 
 along ? would they swim ? oh, you 're teasing 
 me!" 
 
 " Yes, of course he 's teasing you," said Edna ;
 
 A SAILING PARTY. 253 
 
 " we have to row, if the breeze stops. Do you 
 see these long oars ? Why, boys ! you have n't 
 brought but one oar ! " 
 
 " Yes, we have," answered the boys in chorus. 
 Then they looked at where the oars should be, 
 and then at each other. " I thought you brought 
 the other oar," said Archie. 
 
 " And I thought you did," said Will. " Never 
 mind. It looks as if we 'd have a good breeze 
 all day." 
 
 " But will the breeze turn for you to come 
 home again ? " asked Hilda. " For if the breeze 
 blows us out, how can it blow us back again ? " 
 
 " Tack, young woman, tack, but not with a 
 hammer or nails. You '11 see, coming home, if 
 this breeze holds out." 
 
 " I '11 bet you anything that the breeze won't 
 hold, because you've forgotten the other oar," 
 said Edna. 
 
 " Then we '11 put Cricket up in the bow, to 
 whistle up a breeze. That always brings it." 
 
 " It 's so funny I can't whistle, when I 'd love 
 to, so," said Cricket, meditatively, for whistling 
 was one boyish accomplishment which she could 
 not manage. 
 
 "You needn't wish to," said Edna, who,
 
 254 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 strange to say, could whistle like a blackbird. 
 " You would only have people always telling 
 you, it is not ladylike. I don't know I 'm 
 whistling half the time when mamma tells me 
 not to. It just whistles itself." 
 
 " Why don't I whistle right ? " asked Cricket, 
 dolefully, for the hundredth time. "I pucker 
 my lips up so and I blow so and I can 
 give one straight whistle, but I can't make it go 
 up and down. It does n't twinkle as Edna's 
 does." 
 
 Edna broke out into a perfect bird song of 
 twittering and chirping and trilling. 
 
 " There, I just enjoyed that ! " she said, at 
 last, stopping breathlessly. " When I 'm way 
 out at sea, mamma lets me whistle all I like." 
 
 " Is n't it getting near luncheon-time, auntie ?" 
 asked Eunice. " I 'm dreadfully hungry." 
 
 " Luncheon-time, dear child ! It 's only nine 
 o'clock," said auntie, consulting her watch. 
 
 " Don't get mixed up in the time as you did 
 last summer, when you went blackberrying and 
 came home at ten o'clock in the morning and 
 thought it was six at night. Hard-a-lee ! " as 
 the boom swung around and they changed their 
 course. Hilda, not realizing what this meant,
 
 A SAILING PARTJ. 255 
 
 did not duck her head in time, and consequently 
 got a smart rap. Her hat was knocked off, but, 
 being Hilda's, it did not go in the water. She 
 never had any accidents. 
 
 " You must duck, instanter, when you hear 
 me call," said Will. " Sometimes the boom has 
 to go around very suddenly, and you have to 
 look out for yourselves. Archie, you steer now 
 for a while," and Archie took the helm. 
 
 The little sailboat skimmed along over the 
 glittering water, and now they were well past 
 Clark's Island. As they came near the Gurnet 
 lights they decided that they would touch there 
 first, and show Hilda the lighthouse, and then 
 they could take as much time as they liked for 
 their cruise outside. 
 
 The tide was out, and they could not get the 
 little boat up near enough .the shore to land dry- 
 shod. So Will and Archie, having anchored 
 the boat, pulled off shoes and stockings, rolled 
 up their trousers, and jumped overboard. 
 
 " What are they going to do ? " asked Hilda, 
 watching with much interest these preparations, 
 which the rest seemed to take as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 " They will carry us ashore, because we don't
 
 256 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 want to get our feet wet," said Edna. " They 
 often do." 
 
 " Garry us ! why, I 'd be scared to death ! " 
 exclaimed Hilda. "Are you really going to let 
 them take you, Mrs. Somers ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and they know just how to 
 manage," said Mrs. Somers. " I '11 go now, chil- 
 dren, so they can take the heaviest weight first." 
 
 Will and Archie, knee deep in water, stood up 
 by the boat, and Will easily lifted his mother 
 from the side of the boat, where she was stand- 
 ing. Then Archie got hold of her also, in some 
 mysterious way, and, in a moment, she was 
 safely sitting on a " lady's chair," made by the 
 boys' clasped hands. They went carefully up 
 over the rocks and stones, and deposited her, 
 dry-shod. Then they came back for the girls. 
 
 " I can take these kids better alone, Arch," 
 said Will, taking Eunice like a baby. 
 
 " I '11 take Cricket," said Archie. 
 
 " No, you won't, sir, not one step," said that 
 young lady, sitting down, resolutely. " I know 
 you. I 'd find myself in a crab hole in about a 
 minute. I '11 wait for Will." 
 
 " Come on, Hilda, then. That 's a base libel, 
 you know."
 
 A SAILING PARTY. 257 
 
 But it ended by Will's carrying them all in. 
 
 " There are drawbacks to being so popular," 
 said Will, setting down Edna, who was the last, 
 and wiping his face. 
 
 A lighthouse is always an interesting place to 
 visit, and many times as the Somers children 
 had been there, they always enjoyed the trip. 
 Cricket and Eunice had never been there but 
 three or four times before. The good-natured 
 keeper took them all over and showed them 
 everything, from the twin-lights at the top to the 
 life-boats, for Hilda's benefit. 
 
 When they had seen everything that was to 
 be seen they went down to the shore again, to 
 reembark. It was easier getting back, for the 
 boys made a lady's chair for each passenger, 
 and together carried her safely over the shallows, 
 where the water was beginning to rise. They 
 sailed outside the bar for a short distance, and 
 then it was time to eat their luncheon. 
 
 The luncheon was a royal banquet in point of 
 plenty and variety, for Mrs. Maxwell's old cook 
 knew, by long experience, just what sort of ap- 
 petites the salt air made, and there were seven 
 hungry mouths to feed. They feasted and 
 chattered, until Auntie Jean suddenly an-
 
 258 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 uounced that it was time to turn about, and 
 go in. 
 
 " It 's too early," said Edna. 
 
 " Not with this wind," said her mother. " We '11 
 have to tack all the way, and I want to get in 
 by five or six." 
 
 " It 's such fun," sighed Cricket. " I hate to 
 go in. I love the water out here, when it 's all 
 rough and rock-y. I'd like to keep right on 
 to Cape Cod." She stood in the bow of the 
 boat, with one arm around the mast it was a 
 catboat with the breeze fluttering her curly 
 hair about, and her dress blowing back stiffly. 
 
 " Cricket, please don't stand there any longer," 
 called Auntie Jean. " You make me nervous. 
 You '11 be overboard in a minute, I know." 
 
 " No, I won't, auntie, I 've stood here heaps 
 of times. I do love to feel the wind on my 
 face. It makes one feel so gay." 
 
 "No, come back, please, dear. I feel safer 
 with all my birds under my wings," answered 
 auntie, for she knew Cricket of old. 
 
 Cricket turned, reluctantly, and at the same 
 moment Will called " Hard-a-lee ! " as the boom 
 swung over, and the boat obeyed her helm, and 
 came round. Cricket was still facing outward,
 
 A SAILING PARTY. 259 
 
 and, as the boat keeled, she suddenly lost her 
 balance, grasped at the mast which she had let 
 go, missed it, and disappeared over the bows 
 with a great splash. The boat swung away 
 from her, fortunately, otherwise she might have 
 been seriously hurt. , 
 
 " Take the helm, Archie," shouted Will, as he 
 kre off his shoes, and was over after her in a 
 twinkling. Cricket rose to the surface, and 
 struck out bravely, but her clothes hampered 
 her, and she could do little more than keep her- 
 self up. In a few moments Will reached her, 
 and Archie brought the boat around, so there 
 were but a few strokes to swim before they 
 could reach the oar which Edna and Eunice had 
 seized and held out. By this they drew them- 
 selves up to the gunwale of the boat. 
 
 It all passed so quickly that in five minutes 
 from the time when Auntie Jean had first 
 spoken to Cricket, the dripping adventurers were 
 in the boat again. There had been no real 
 danger, for Cricket could easily have kept her- 
 self up till one of the boys could come to her, 
 but the children felt very much excited, for all 
 that, over the " rescue," as they called it. 
 
 In the small quarters of a little catboat, it is
 
 260 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 not exactly pleasant to have two dripping indi- 
 viduals as members of the crew, and the others 
 began to draw themselves, feet and all, up on to 
 the seat. 
 
 " Now, water-babies," began Auntie Jean, but 
 Archie interrupted : 
 
 " Do pitch them out again, and let them swim 
 home. They '11 swamp the boat directly. Here, 
 bail out, Edna," tossing her the sponge, which 
 she caught and threw at Cricket, saying, " I can't 
 get down in all that water. Your feet are wet, 
 already, Cricket." 
 
 " It 's too bad," said Cricket, meekly. " Could n't 
 you really tie a rope around me, auntie, and drag 
 me along ? I would n't mind. I could n't swim 
 all the way in, for I 'd get tired, but I would n't 
 mind being tied on behind." 
 
 "You're pretty bad, but we won't make a 
 tow of you this time," said auntie, merrily. 
 "I can't say what I'll do next time, though. 
 Now we must get off those wet clothes, and 
 wring them out, and hang them up to dry. You 
 can put on your mackintosh." 
 
 Mackintoshes and shawls always formed part 
 of the equipment of an all day's sail, since at 
 at any time a squall might come up. Edna and
 
 A SAILING PAKTY. 261 
 
 Eunice and Hilda held up a long shawl in a tri- 
 angular fence around Cricket, while she got out 
 of most of her clothes. Auntie rubbed her dry, 
 and wrung out what she still had on, as best 
 she could with another shawl, and then she put 
 on her mackintosh. Will had also been getting 
 rid of some of the superfluous water, but a boy's 
 sailing dress is so beautifully simple that a wet- 
 ting more or less does not matter. He took off 
 his stockings, and hung them over the boom to 
 dry, and presently Cricket's dress and petticoats 
 fluttered beside them. 
 
 " Regular canal-boat style. Family wash dry- 
 ing on deck," said Archie, and then he hooted 
 at Cricket as she appeared from behind the 
 shawl. A little figure draped in a mackintosh 
 is not a model for an artist. 
 
 " That 's very becoming, young one," said 
 Archie. " You look as fat as a match." 
 
 " A match for you, then," returned Cricket, 
 serenely, for Archie had the proportions of a 
 hairpin. 
 
 " I want to call a meeting of the Echo Club, 
 immediately," said Will, standing up, " and I 
 put the motion as president pro tern; that on 
 any expedition in the future, of which Miss Jean
 
 262 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Ward, usually called Cricket, is a member, that a 
 wringing-machine be furnished and carried, at 
 the club's expense." 
 
 " Who would you have to poke fun at, if you 
 did n't have me ? " demanded Cricket, quite un- 
 disturbed. " But I '11 second the motion about 
 the wringing-machine. I wonder why you did n't 
 get as wet as I did ? " 
 
 Another shout at this. 
 
 "I only got a little damp on the outside," 
 said Will, politely. " I '11 soon evaporate." 
 
 " You need n't all laugh," said Cricket, defen- 
 sively. " I was in the water longer than he 
 was, and so I did n't suppose he 'd had time to 
 get as wet through." 
 
 " I did n't," said Will, " only as far as my 
 skin. I 'm not porous." 
 
 They had been tacking all the time, back and 
 forth, much to Hilda's amazement, who could 
 not understand how that crab-like motion would 
 ever bring them home. They were now coming 
 past the Gurnet Lights. 
 
 " We can put in there, mother, if you like," 
 suggested Archie, " and get the mermaid dried 
 off, if you think best." 
 
 " It's really not necessary. Cricket is rubbed
 
 A SAILING PARTY. 263 
 
 pretty dry, and one rarely takes cold in sea- 
 water. Keep down in the bottom of the boat, 
 Cricket, out of the breeze as much as you can." 
 
 " I 'm just thinking to myself," said Will, 
 " that in five minutes you '11 be hunting for a 
 breeze to sit in. It 's certainly dying down." 
 
 " Will, if you becalm us out here in this 
 broiling sun when you 've forgotten to bring the 
 other oar to row with, I '11 never forgive you," 
 exclaimed Edna. 
 
 " I have n't the least desire to do it, my lady," 
 said Will, scanning the now cloudless sky, " but 
 I think it 's what we 're in for. Have you any- 
 thing left to eat in case we make a night of it, 
 mother ? " 
 
 "A night of it?" cried Hilda, in dismay. 
 " Where would we sleep ? " 
 
 " All curled up in little bundles in the bottom 
 of the boat," cut in Archie. "It's not bad. 
 Only it takes some time next day to get the 
 kinks out of your legs." 
 
 " He's teasing you, my dear," said Mrs. Somers. 
 " We won't be here all night, but it often hap- 
 pens that we are becalmed for several hours, 
 and I really don't enjoy the prospect. Come, 
 Will, whistle up the breeze."
 
 264 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE 
 
 " It 's Cricket that does that," said Archie ; 
 " she always scares the wind into coming up 
 immediately. There's a puff now. The very 
 mention of Cricket's whistling does the busi- 
 ness." 
 
 But the wind only freshened for a moment, 
 then died down, and in ten minutes more they 
 lay motionless on a glassy sea. 
 
 "Now here we'll stay," said Edna with a 
 sigh, " until the sea-breeze springs up this after- 
 noon at four or five. What time is it now? 
 Two o'clock ! Think of it ! " 
 
 " The tide takes us along a little," said Mrs. 
 Somers. "If we only had the other oar 
 now!" 
 
 " Scull," suggested Edna. 
 
 " Too much work," said Archie ; but, never- 
 theless, he adjusted the oar at the stern, and 
 sculled a little. The boat moved very slowly 
 forward. - 
 
 " If we go six feet in an hour, how long will 
 it take us to go seven miles ? " propounded 
 Eunice. 
 
 " Those questions are too difficult to be an- 
 swered off-hand," said Will, sculling in his turn. 
 " Sounds like Alice in Wonderland. If two boys
 
 A SAILING PARTY. 265 
 
 eat a turkey at Thanksgiving, how many girls 
 will eat a plum-pudding at Christmas ? " 
 
 " I know a better one than that," put in Archie. 
 " Two men set out simultaneously, at different 
 times, on a journey, both being unable to travel. 
 For two hours they kept ahead of each other, 
 and then a snow-storm came up, and they both 
 lost their way. Query : Which got there 
 first?" 
 
 " How silly ! " said Edna. " How could they 
 set out simultaneously, at different times, 
 mamma ? " 
 
 "That's the question for your deep brain, 
 Miss Wiseacre," said Archie. " Perhaps you 're 
 equal to this. If three men work all day on a 
 fertile farm, what is the logarithm ? " 
 
 " The lager -in -'em ?" echoed Cricket. " De- 
 pends on how much they drank." 
 
 Whereupon Mrs. Somers and the boys laughed 
 themselves sore, and the girls clamoured to know 
 the joke. 
 
 " Cricket 's a born joke," said Will, resuming 
 his- sculling. " You '11 be the death of me, young 
 one." 
 
 " I always see jokes when there are any to 
 see," Cricket answered, with dignity. "You
 
 266 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 know I do, Mr. Will. I 'm not just as worse as 
 Edna." 
 
 " Just as bad, you mean," retorted Edna. 
 
 " Let 's play some games, children," Mrs. 
 Somers said, coming to the rescue. The chil- 
 dren were all fond of games.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 BECALMED. 
 
 " WHAT shall it be first, then ? " went on Auntie 
 Jean, adjusting the cushions behind her back and 
 resting her umbrella against the rail. 
 
 " Teakettle," suggested Edna. 
 
 " What is teakettle ? " asked Hilda. 
 
 " Don't you know ? We play it lots. Some- 
 body goes out " 
 
 " Into the water ? " put in Archie. " Then 
 Cricket is l it,' I say." 
 
 "Well, of course, Archie, I was thinking of 
 dry land. Somebody shuts up her ears, then, 
 and we choose a word. It must be one with two 
 or three meanings. Then, whoever is * it,' begins 
 to ask questions, and we answer, only we put the 
 word ' teakettle ' in place of the real word. We 
 can say ' teakettling,' you know, or ' teakettled,' 
 if we want to. Who '11 be < it ' first ? " 
 
 "I'd just as lief," said Eunice, going to the 
 bow, and putting her fingers in her ears, and 
 burying her head in a cushion.
 
 268 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " What shall we choose for a word ? It must 
 have two or three meanings, you know." 
 
 " Sail would be very appropriate," suggested 
 Will, who was still laboriously sculling. 
 
 " Oh, yes. See, Hilda ? There 's to sail, and 
 taking a sail, and a sale of things." 
 
 " And the sail of the boat," said Archie. 
 
 "All ready, Eunice. Touch her, Archie. 
 Begin, Eunice." 
 
 " The hardest part is to think of questions," 
 said Eunice, turning around and meditating. 
 " Let me see. Auntie, when do you think we 
 will get home ? " 
 
 " When we are on a teakettle, it is never safe 
 to say," answered auntie. 
 
 " On a teakettle on .a boat that does n't 
 fit," meditated Eunice. " Will, why don't you 
 make Archie scull now ? " 
 
 " Because he 's such a lazy beggar. When 
 he goes teakettling, he won't do anything 
 else." 
 
 " Edna, is the moon made of green cheese ? " 
 
 " What a hard question," groaned Edna. 
 " What shall I say ? If we teakettled up there, 
 perhaps we could find out." 
 
 "I can't guess it yet," said Eunice, thinking
 
 BECALMED. 269 
 
 over this answer. " Cricket, if you were n't a 
 girl, what would you rather be ? " 
 
 "I know a boy," said Archie, quickly. 
 " Would n't you, Miss Scricket ? " 
 
 " No, I would n't, Mr. Archie. I would rather 
 be a pig than a boy. A nice fat pig, and then 
 nobody would laugh at my 'knitting-needles.' 
 That 's what papa calls my legs, always, auntie, 
 you know, because they 're not fat, I know. He 
 always wants mamma to knit with them, and all 
 that nonsense. It seems to amuse them very 
 much," added Cricket, with a bored air. 
 
 " You have n't teakettled once, child," said 
 Eunice. " Oh, auntie, I must just stop to tell 
 you a funny story about Cricket. It was such 
 a joke on her. Once we were playing ' She 
 comes, she comes.' You know that, don't you ? 
 Somebody says, ' What does she come with ? ' and 
 then you give the first letter of the thing you 've 
 thought of. It was Cricket's turn, and she 
 well, she was rather a little girl gave ' N. N.' 
 for the initials. We guessed and guessed, and 
 had to give up, finally, and then she piped up, 
 1 It 's what papa calls my legs,' and she meant 
 ' knitting-needles.' ' 
 
 " I was very little," said Cricket, blushing and
 
 270 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 apologising. "It was as much as three years 
 ago. I have n't answered your question yet, 
 Eunice. I b'lieve I don't want to be a pig, 
 after all, for in the fall the farmer has a tea- 
 kettle, and sells his pigs, and I 'd have to go to 
 the butcher and be killed, and be cut up for 
 sausage." 
 
 " I don't seem to get hold of it, yet," said 
 Eunice, wrinkling her forehead. "Hilda, how 
 do you like Marbury ? " 
 
 " I think it 's perfectly lovely," declared Hilda, 
 enthusiastically. " Oh, I forgot to teakettle. I 
 think teakettling is lovely, even if you do get 
 becalmed." 
 
 "Teakettling sailing! Sail is the word," 
 exclaimed Eunice, instantly. " You gave it away, 
 Hilda. I guessed it on you, so you '11 have to go 
 out." 
 
 " I '11 never be able to guess it in the world," 
 said Hilda, looking disappointed. 
 
 " I '11 take your place," said Will, instantly. 
 " It 's about time that Archie sculled. Take 
 hold, old boy, and keep at it." 
 
 " Choose a hard one," said Eunice, when Will 
 had duly stopped up his ears. " How would 
 steal do ? "
 
 BECALMED. 271 
 
 " Yes, or we might have oar and ore" said 
 Hilda. 
 
 " Scull and skull," said Archie, pensively. 
 
 " That 's good," said auntie. " Or else bough, 
 and bow of the boat, and bow, to make a 
 bow." 
 
 " Let 's take that, for there are so many mean- 
 ings," said Cricket. 
 
 " All right. Eeady, Will," said Archie, kick- 
 ing him. 
 
 Will uncovered his ears and began. 
 
 " Edna, how many sandwiches did you eat for 
 luncheon ? " 
 
 " I ought to make you a teakettle for asking 
 me such an easy question," laughed Edna. " I 
 ate two I think." 
 
 " Whopper ! " said Will. " Eunice, why is a 
 crocodile like the North Pole ? " 
 
 " Because there 's a B in both," answered 
 Eunice, promptly. " Will, ask sensible questions, 
 or I '11 get a teakettle when I get home, and hit 
 you with it." 
 
 " That might be a stone, but stone won't 
 do. Cricket, now think carefully over your 
 answer. If three men work all day on a fer- 
 tile farm "
 
 272 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " I '11 get Archie to throw you over the tea- 
 kettle this minute, if you don't stop," threatened 
 Cricket. 
 
 " Throw me over the teakettle over the side 
 stern bow. Bow. That's it, young lady. 
 Caught you on that." 
 
 And so the game progressed, till they had suffi- 
 ciently teakettled. 
 
 " What next ? " asked some one. 
 
 " Suppose we have tableaux, and begin with 
 Cricket for Venus," said Archie, looking at her 
 with his head on one side. 
 
 " You need n't make fun of my looks, Mr. 
 Archie. I know this mackintosh is n't very be- 
 coming, but I don't care for looks, anyway." 
 
 " You might as well intermingle a few looks 
 if you can," said Eunice. " And you do look too 
 funny. Your clothes are dry, now, anyway. 
 Had n't she better put them on, auntie ? " 
 
 So the shawl screen was again put up, and the 
 display of dress and petticoats disappeared from 
 the sail of the Grentle Jane. 
 
 " I feel more respectable," teased Archie, " now 
 the weekly wash is taken in. Hated to be taken 
 for a canal-boat." 
 
 " No, we 'd rather be taken for a tow," said
 
 BECALMED. 273 
 
 Cricket, smartly, and Archie fell back, rigid with 
 mock admiration. 
 
 " Now, if we only had pencils and paper," said 
 auntie, " there are many games we might play." 
 
 " Oh, wait ! wait ! " exclaimed Cricket, jump- 
 ing up suddenly and tumbling over auntie in her 
 excitement. She dived into the tiny hold, and 
 triumphantly brought out her mysterious news- 
 paper package. 
 
 " I thought perhaps the girls would like to 
 write on their stories for the * Echo,' " she ex- 
 plained eagerly, " so I brought all the blank 
 books and pencils. You can tear some leaves 
 out of the back of mine and use them." 
 
 There was much applause at Cricket's fore- 
 thought. 
 
 " Wise child," said auntie, approvingly, " I am 
 glad to see that ' though on pleasure you are 
 bent you have a' literary mind. We might 
 illustrate proverbs." 
 
 " Oh, I can't draw," said Eunice, quickly. 
 
 So much the better. You need not draw 
 well, for it's much more fun if you don't. I'll 
 tear these leaves in two, Cricket, to make them 
 long and narrow. Now, we must each illustrate 
 some proverb at the bottom of the slip, or some
 
 274 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 line of poetry, if you prefer. Only label it, which 
 it is. When we are all done, we each pass our 
 slips to the next one, who writes what she thinks 
 it is, and folds back the writing, and passes it 
 on. When we have each written our comments, 
 they are opened and read. Most of the fun 
 comes from the different guesses, so you see you 
 must n't draw too well, and make your ideas too 
 plain. Now, to work, all of you. Here are your 
 slips." 
 
 They all fell industriously to work, interrupt- 
 ing themselves with many a groan and protest. 
 When all were finished they passed on their slips 
 to the next one. There was much giggling at 
 the first sight of some of the very remarkable 
 drawings. 
 
 " Now," said Auntie Jean, when the slips had 
 all passed around, and had returned to the hands 
 of their respective artists, " each of you unfold 
 your papers, and read the comments aloud for 
 the benefit of the company. Cricket, you 're the 
 youngest. Suppose you begin." 
 
 Cricket giggled. Her picture consisted of a 
 scraggy tree, with several long wavy lines near 
 its foot. In the branches of the tree were two 
 good-sized attempts at fowls of some description,
 
 BECALMED. 275 
 
 while a third huge creature was flying near. 
 She read the comments in order. 
 
 " There were three crows sat on a tree, 
 And they were black as crows could be." 
 
 AUNTIE. 
 
 " The breaking waves dashed high, 
 Caught the pilgrims on the fly." 
 
 (" Could n't think how that last line goes," 
 murmured Archie, " but I 'm sure those are pil- 
 grims on the fly." ) 
 
 " Two 's a company, three is none." EDNA. 
 
 " Good-morning ! do you use Pears' Soap ? " WILL. 
 
 "Early bird catches the first worm." (Guess those 
 things down there are worms.) HILDA. 
 
 " Two birds in the bush are worth one in the hand." 
 (I had to make the proverb fit the drawing.) EUNICE. 
 
 " And it 's just as plain," announced Cricket, 
 contemptuously. " Birds of a feather flock to- 
 gether." 
 
 " Ho ! what are those water streaks doing 
 down there, then ? " asked Archie. " The things 
 I thought were breaking waves."
 
 276 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " / thought they were curly worms," added 
 Hilda. 
 
 " They 're not worms or water either. I just 
 put some lines there to fill up. I think I meant 
 them for grass. How silly you all are. Now, 
 auntie." 
 
 Auntie's picture was beautifully simple. It 
 was nothing but an inclined plane, with a round 
 thing rolling down it. Of course everybody had 
 written, " A rolling stone gathers no moss." 
 
 " Not at all," answered auntie, coolly. " I 
 thought you would all think that, but it really is, 
 ' Things are not what they seem.' It looks like 
 a stone, but it is n't. Now, Eunice." 
 
 Eunice had a remarkable sketch of a darkly- 
 shaded spot, with a house showing dimly through, 
 and at one side a spiky sun was rising above a 
 quavering line, evidently meant for the horizon. 
 There were various guesses. " Any port in a 
 storm." (" Which is the same as saying, any 
 guess, if you can't make the right one," mur- 
 mured Will.) 
 
 " Rising Sun Stove Polish." " Let not the sun 
 go down upon your wrath." " Every cloud has a 
 silver lining." (" That house is behind a cloud, 
 is n't it ? " asked Cricket.)
 
 BECALMED. 277 
 
 "It's a very easy one, too," said Eunice. 
 " ' It 's always darkest just before dawn.' Don't 
 you see the sun just coming up ? " 
 
 Archie, who drew beautifully, had made a 
 really very clever little sketch of a Spencerian 
 pen, mounted on two thin legs, furnished with an 
 equally thin pair of arms, and a face as well, en- 
 gaged in a boxing match with a very plump and 
 well-developed sword. In a second picture, the 
 sword was flat on the ground, while the pen was 
 dancing away, grinning. Of course this could 
 be only, " The Pen is mightier than the Sword." 
 
 Hilda had drawn simply two long lines in per- 
 spective. As nobody could make anything of 
 them, the guesses were wild. 
 
 " Why, don't you see ? Those two lines are a 
 lane. ' It 's a long lane that has no turning.' 
 That 's the long lane. It has no turning," ex- 
 plained Hilda. " I thought you would guess it 
 the very first thing." 
 
 When the last of the guesses were read, auntie 
 rose to rest herself from a sitting position. 
 
 " Is n't there a bit of a breeze coming up ? " 
 she asked, shading her eyes with her hand, to 
 look across the glassy sea, in search of the faint- 
 est sign of a ripple.
 
 278 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Sorra a bit," said Archie. " Here, Will, you 
 scull a while, and rest a fellow. Hello ! we 're 
 really getting along. See how far the Gurnet 
 Lights are behind us." 
 
 " Yes, but look at the distance ahead of us, to 
 be sculled over yet," said Auntie Jean, " and 
 here it is four o'clock," consulting her watch. 
 " Come, Archie, it 's time to whistle up the 
 wind." 
 
 " I will ! " said Edna, breaking out again into 
 her blackbird whistle. 
 
 Cricket listened in rapt admiration. 
 
 " Why ccuri!t I do it ? " she sighed. 
 
 " But, Mrs. Sorners ? " broke out Hilda, in 
 amazement, " can they really whistle up a 
 breeze ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, dear. It 's only an old saying 
 about sailors. The children do it for fun when 
 we 're becalmed sometimes. Well, there 's no 
 signs of it yet. I '11 tell you what I '11 do, chil- 
 dren. While you 're whistling up the wind, I '11 
 write an adjective story for you." 
 
 " Oh, that will be fun ! " exclaimed one and 
 all. All, that is, but Hilda, who asked again : 
 
 " Now, what is an adjective story ? " 
 
 "I write a little story about anything," ex-
 
 BECALMED. 279 
 
 plained Mrs. Somers, giving her pencils to Will 
 to be sharpened, " and I leave a space before every 
 noun. When I have written it, you each give 
 nie adjectives in turn to fill in the spaces, and I 
 write them just as you supply them. Of course 
 they never fit, and a very funny hodge-podge is 
 the result. Now, while I 'm writing you must 
 all be thinking up a good supply of adjectives, 
 for I shall want a quantity." 
 
 So Auntie Jean took Cricket's blank-book and 
 began to scribble ; she wrote busily for ten or 
 fifteen minutes, and then announced she was 
 ready for the adjectives. 
 
 " I call it the ' Tale of the Shipwrecked Mari- 
 ners,' " she said, when all the adjectives were 
 duly written in. " And now for the tale." 
 
 " Once upon a time, in the pathetic town of 
 Marbury, there lived a green and scrumptious 
 lady with a wriggling troop of fantastic grand- 
 children, who made her life miserable. First of 
 all was the eldest, the awful and weird William, 
 who was quite intolerable. Next to him was the 
 cute and sublime Archie, who was always jolly 
 and superstitious. They had a sullen and sarcas- 
 tic sister, the entrancing Edna, whom they de- 
 lighted to tease. One summer their delightful
 
 280 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 and sarcastic cousins, the mournful and flowery 
 Eunice, and the melodious Cricket [" Auntie ! 
 you put that there on purpose," came reproach- 
 fully from the last-mentioned young woman. 
 
 " No, I did n't, my dear. It really happened 
 so."] 
 
 "The melodious Cricket, arrived to spend a 
 long time with the dingy Somers family, much 
 to their enjoyment. After various adventures, 
 their ecstatic friend, the lively Hilda Mason, 
 came to spend a few days. To entertain her, one 
 day, they took her out in a wizened boat to sail 
 over the garrulous bay. They dragged their 
 silent auntie " [a howl] " with them, promising 
 her a talkative day. All went well at first, but 
 suddenly a gruesome storm arose, and beat upon 
 their inky boat, which began to leak. The mu- 
 sical crew were all much frightened, and tried to 
 bail out the ugly water, but it rose too fast, and 
 soon the monkeyish boat began to sink. After 
 it had sunk through the water about a mile, it 
 struck plump on a rock, and then it glided into 
 a dwarfish cave at the bottom of the sea. The 
 grumpy and genial Cricket immediately fell out 
 of the boat, in her surprise. Cunning Will 
 jumped after her. The sugary party had come
 
 BECALMED. 281 
 
 to a mountainous spot down below the sea, and 
 they found a minute garden there, full of curly 
 fruits. The aggravating Hilda, the indefinite 
 Eunice, and the smooth Edna, seeing the proper 
 Cricket " [another howl] " struggling in the 
 water with the contrary Will, immediately 
 jumped out after them, leaving the rough Archie 
 and forlorn auntie in command of the boat. 
 Suddenly a bold gnome popped up his dainty 
 head from behind a rock, saying, ' Welcome, 
 Englishmen ! You are in the cave of accident. 
 Look out for yourselves.' As he spoke, his wa- 
 tery head fell off. He felt around but could not 
 find it, since his eyes had gone with his head, 
 so he said, politely, ' Will some of you immense, 
 raw people pick up my jealous head for me, and 
 kindly put it on ? ' Snub-nosed Hilda " [" Ah, 
 you've caught it now, young lady," from Ar- 
 chie] "being nearest, handed him his head, 
 which had rolled to her idolatrous feet. The 
 hysterical gnome immediately clapped it on 
 wrong side before. ' Never mind,' he said. 
 ' Now I can go to school, or from school, just as 
 I like, and nobody will ever know what I 'm do- 
 ing.' The dumpy party then went on their way 
 exploring, leaving the squealing Archie and un-
 
 282 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 canny auntie calling after them, and weeping 
 unmixed tears of terror, lest by some accident 
 they should never come back. The noble gnome 
 went along in front of them, when suddenly he 
 began walking right up, in the water. When the 
 others came up to the same place, to their sur- 
 prise, they found themselves doing the same 
 thing. They could n't possibly stay on the 
 ground. ' I don't want to go up,' said erratic 
 Cricket, kicking, and shamefaced Will called to 
 the sparkling gnome, to know what was the mat- 
 ter. ' Nothing at all,' he called back, cheerfully, 
 ' only gravity does n't happen to act just there. 
 Sometimes it does n't and then you 're just as 
 likely to go somewhere else.' 
 
 " ' Let 's go back ! ' said prim Eunice. 
 
 " ' Very well. There 's nowhere to go but 
 back,' called back the rickety gnome. ' Stand 
 on your heads, and go the other way.' 
 
 " The humble party upset themselves, and got 
 along very nicely, and soon found themselves on 
 the ground again. 
 
 " ' I don't like to walk all sorts of ways,' said 
 flighty Hilda. ' I like to go on my grateful feet 
 best.' So they decided to go back to the boat 
 as best they could. But when they came to the
 
 BECALMED. 283 
 
 suave boat it was n't there, for the ground had 
 opened accidentally, and cowardly Archie and 
 generous auntie had fallen right through the 
 earth, to China, probably, if nothing happened 
 to stop them. This was quite a disappointment 
 to the naughty party, who didn't know what to 
 do next. So they decided to do nothing at all, 
 and, as far as the present dramatic and incon- 
 venient historian knows, that is just what they 
 are doing at the present time. Here ends the 
 swaggering story of the mellow and gruff 
 shipwrecked mariners." 
 
 Is that all ? " " What fun ! " Did n't the 
 adjectives come in funny ! " " Write another 
 one ! " came the various comments. 
 
 " Hurrah for Mumsey ! " shouted Archie. 
 " You 're a regular Alice in Wonderland." 
 
 " I wish I were, and I would raise the wind," 
 said Auntie Jean. 
 
 " Slang, madam ! " both her sons instantly 
 announced. 
 
 " Is it ? Then I beg its pardon, and yours, 
 and everybody's," answered Auntie Jean, 
 promptly. " No, Edna, I will not write another 
 one, till the next time we are becalmed. Isn't 
 there a sign of a breeze, Will ? "
 
 284 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " None yet, but we are making way slowly, 
 with the sculling and the tide. We 're half 
 across the bay now." 
 
 " Guess this rebus," said Cricket, presenting a 
 paper on which she had been drawing for a 
 moment. There was a capital letter B, a 
 very wild and inebriated looking letter it was, too, 
 and beside it was another B, with beautiful, 
 regular curves, lying flat on its back. 
 
 " It 's one word," hinted Cricket. 
 
 " ' How doth the little busy B 
 Improve each shining hour,' " 
 
 suggested Auntie Jean, instantly. 
 
 "No, that's good, but it isn't right; it's 
 what we are now." 
 
 " B-calmed," said Archie. " And you 're 
 right. That B needed calming badly, you little 
 Gloriana McQuirk." For every separate hair of 
 Cricket's curly crop, having been wet in her in- 
 voluntary bath, and afterward rubbed dry, stood 
 out in a separate and distinct curl from all the 
 others, making a veritable halo around her 
 head. 
 
 " This is the way you look, Cricket," said 
 Archie, seizing a pencil, and in a moment his 
 clever fingers had drawn a head in which noth-
 
 BECALMED. 285 
 
 ing was to be seen save a very wide smile, and a 
 cloud of hair. 
 
 " I look very well, then," said Cricket, calmly. 
 " It 's like all those pictures in papa's " Paradise 
 Lost," where the angels all have halos, you 
 know. It would be very convenient to have a 
 halo, really, would n't it, auntie ? A saint could 
 fry his own eggs right on his halo, for instance, 
 if he wanted to, couldn't he ?" 
 
 " That would be a practical use for a halo," 
 laughed auntie. " And that brings up a sugges- 
 tion of more lunch. Let us eat up the fragments. 
 It 's five o'clock." 
 
 " And here 's a bit of a breeze coming," said 
 Will, suddenly, wetting his finger, and holding 
 it up. " Whoop-la ! She 's coming ! Let 's 
 give her the call ! " And all the vigorous young 
 lungs joined in a wild salute of " Wah-who-wah ! 
 wah-who-wah ! Come, little breezes ! wah-who- 
 wah!" 
 
 " I'll stop sculling, and eat in comfort now," 
 said Will, shipping his oar, and taking a sand- 
 wich. " She 's safe to come, now." 
 
 And the breeze did not belie his confidence, 
 for in ten minutes more the sail began to flap, 
 and then to fill. The boat instantly responded,
 
 286 CEICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 and Archie took the helm. The breeze steadily 
 freshened, and in two minutes more the Gentle 
 Jane was skimming along like a bird. And so, 
 not long after six, they landed at the dock.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A NEW HIDING-PLACE. 
 
 THE four girls were in an unusually energetic 
 frame of mind the next day, owing to so .many 
 hours confinement on the sailboat. 
 
 "Let's do something wild to-day," said 
 Cricket, at the breakfast-table. " I 'd like to ride 
 a crazy horse." 
 
 " Are you tired of this world ? " asked Will. 
 "If you are, I'll go and borrow Mr. Gates's 
 Josephus, his new horse. He's only half 
 broken, and that 's the wrong half." 
 
 " Cricket, I put my foot down on your doing 
 anything of the kind," said auntie, in alarm, not 
 feeling at all sure of Cricket. " Remember you 're 
 strictly forbidden to mount anything but Mopsie." 
 
 " And the sawhorse ? " broke in Archie. 
 
 " Yes, I '11 except the sawhorse," conceded 
 his mother. 
 
 "Why, auntie, I rode Columbus all around the 
 field, bareback, the other day," said Cricket. 
 " I did n't know you did n't want me to." 
 
 " Columbus ! you crazy child ! He 's not at
 
 288 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 all safe even for a man to ride him. Under- 
 stand, my dear, that 's tabooed." 
 
 " Oh, auntie ! " cried Cricket, clasping her 
 hands, tragically, " If you 've any filial affection 
 for me, you won't say that ! I do so love to ride 
 a horse bareback. Mopsie is dear, but I like 
 something fiercer.'' 1 
 
 " If you have any filial affection for me, my 
 dear," returned auntie, laughing, " you will say 
 no more about it. You know I've undertaken 
 to restore all you children, as uninjured as possi- 
 ble, to your father and mother. Riding half- 
 broken horses bareback is not exactly the safest 
 thing in the world." 
 
 "What let's do, then?" asked Edna. 
 
 " I 'm going to take grandma for a nice long 
 ride after breakfast. Suppose two of you come 
 with me, and the other two ride or drive Mopsie 
 and Charcoal," proposed auntie. 
 
 " All right. Suppose you and I go in the 
 carriage, Eunice," said Edna, and let the children 
 take the ponies." 
 
 " The children, indeed ! " said Hilda, bridling. 
 " I 'm as old as you, Edna." 
 
 " Cricket 's the only trundle-bed trash," said 
 Archie, pulling her hair.
 
 A NEW HIDING-PLACE. 289 
 
 " Goodness me, auntie, if you 'd whipped him 
 a little when he was trundle - bed trash, he 
 might have been very much nicer now," said 
 Cricket, pulling away, and, by her hasty move- 
 ment, upsetting her glass of milk. " There, 
 now ! I 've done it again. Please excuse me. 
 auntie." 
 
 " It was not your fault, dear. It 's that bad 
 boy of mine that must be blamed. I read a 
 story a little while ago of a plan where all the 
 small boys were put into a barrel when they 
 were six, and fed and educated through the 
 bung-hole, and not let out till they were twenty- 
 one. Would you like to live there ? " 
 
 " Oh, how lovely ! " sighed Edna. " Let 's go 
 there ! Think of having no one to tease you." 
 
 " Or pull your hair," said Cricket, feelingly. 
 
 " Or call you names," said Hilda, severely. 
 
 " Or hide your things," added Eunice, re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 " Or take you sailing, or teach you to wrestle, 
 or write things for your old l Echo,' or harness 
 the ponies when Luke is not round, and look out 
 for you generally," said Archie, in a breath. 
 " If boys are barrelled in that place, girls ought 
 to be "
 
 290 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 "Hung," said Edna, sweetly. "Please pass 
 me the syrup." 
 
 " Since you 've settled that question," said 
 auntie, smiling, " shall we arrange it that Eunice 
 and Edna go with us, and Cricket and Hilda 
 ride the ponies? Or would you rather drive, 
 Hilda?" 
 
 " I '11 ride with Cricket, please," said Hilda. 
 
 " We '11 have a splendid scamper, then," said 
 Cricket. " Oh, Hilda ! do you know, I 've found 
 out lately how to make Mopsie go up on his hind 
 legs and walk around with me on his back. It 's 
 lots of fun and I don't fall off a bit, auntie." 
 
 " That seems rather dangerous, my dear," said 
 auntie, looking disturbed. " When did you 
 learn?" 
 
 " There 's really not any danger, I think, 
 mother," said Will. " Mopsie's such a gentle 
 little chap and so well trained. He walks 
 around on his hind legs as smoothly as Charcoal 
 on four, and comes down so gently that you 'd 
 hardly know it. He knows just how." 
 
 " And if I fall off," said Cricket, " there is n't 
 very far to fall, you know." 
 
 " Oh, girls ! " said Eunice, suddenly changing 
 the subject, " don't forget there is the meeting
 
 A NEW HIDING-PLACE. 291 
 
 of the ' Echo Club ' at three this afternoon, to 
 read the ' Echo.' Do you want to hear it again, 
 auntie ? " 
 
 "To be sure I do. I want to know all about 
 your budding geniuses. And it will amuse 
 grandma, too. Meet on the piazza. And can't 
 you make the hour four o'clock to suit us old 
 ladies, that like a nap after luncheon ? " 
 
 " Of course we will. I 'm president, and I '11 
 appoint the meeting at four. Can we be excused 
 now, auntie ? We will be round somewhere 
 when you' re ready to go to ride. I 've got to do 
 a little work on the ' Echo ' yet. It is n't quite 
 finished." 
 
 Even the long scamper on the ponies, of two 
 or three hours, failed to exhaust Cricket's en- 
 ergy, and when they returned she wanted Hilda 
 to go for a row with her. Hilda flatly refused. 
 
 " You are the most untiresome creature," she 
 said. " I should think you 'd be ready to drop. 
 I am, I know. I 'm going to get into the ham- 
 mock, and I 'm not going to stir till dinner-time. 
 Do come and sit down yourself, and rest." 
 
 " Sit down and rest," repeated Cricket, with 
 much scorn. " As if a little ride like that tired 
 me. Well, if you won't go to row, come to walk ! "
 
 292 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " I 'm going to sit still, I say," returned Hilda, 
 firmly, seating herself comfortably in the ham- 
 mock. " I '11 row this afternoon, perhaps, if it 
 isn't too hot. Here come Eunice and Edna. 
 Do sit down, Cricket, and be sensible." 
 
 " If I sat down I'd be insensible," answered 
 Cricket, trying to sit cross-legged on the piazza- 
 rail. " There 's old Billy ! I '11 take him for a 
 row," and Cricket, tipping herself sideways, 
 alighted on her feet on the ground below, and 
 ran off. 
 
 " Such a child," sighed Hilda, with the air of 
 forty years. " She is reprehensible ! " aiming at 
 irrepressible. 
 
 Eunice and Edna joined her on the piazza. 
 
 " Where is Cricket ?" Eunice asked. 
 
 " She 's rampaging off," said Hilda. I 'm so 
 hot that I don't know what to do, and there 's 
 Cricket calmly going out on that scorching 
 water. Look at her, now ! " 
 
 The girls followed Hilda's indignant finger, 
 which pointed to where Cricket, having adjusted 
 old Billy to her satisfaction in the stern, was 
 pushing off the boat. The tide was nearly out, 
 and in another half -hour the flats would be bare. 
 
 " I wonder if she '11 get stuck again," said
 
 "CRICKET SAT DOWN ON THE BEACH WITH THE 
 CHILDREN "
 
 A NEW HIDING-PLACE. 295 
 
 Edna, with interest, shading her eyes to look. 
 " Cricket ! Cricket ! don't forget the 
 tide!" she called, making a speaking-tube of 
 her hands. 
 
 "No," called Cricket, in reply, "I'm only 
 going a little distance, just for exercise." 
 
 " For exercise ! " groaned Hilda, sinking down 
 in her hammock. 
 
 " For exercise ! " echoed Edna, subsiding at 
 full length in a steamer-chair. 
 
 " For exercise ! " said Eunice, briskly, looking 
 half inclined to follow her, when Edna pulled 
 her down beside her. 
 
 "No, you don't want to go at all. Cricket 
 will be back in a few moments. She can't go 
 far, on account of the tide." 
 
 " I must finish my ' Echo,' any way," said 
 Eunice, remembering her editorial duties, and 
 vanishing into the house to get her materials. 
 
 It was not long before Cricket turned and 
 pulled in. The children were on the beach with 
 Eliza, and Cricket sat down on the sand with 
 them, after landing, digging and laughing, as if 
 she were six years old herself. Presently they 
 all jumped up, and ran laughing and shouting 
 after her.
 
 296 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Come on, girls, and play ' Tick-den,' " called 
 Cricket, as she passed. 
 
 " Come and sit down," chorused the girls, 
 but Cricket laughed and ran on, the twins 
 tagging after her, and Kenneth struggling in 
 the rear. 
 
 " Tick-den " is a local variation of the time- 
 honoured "hide-and-go-seek." There is not 
 much fun in it when there are only three play- 
 ing, especially when two of the three have very 
 short legs, but Cricket seemed to find a certain 
 amount of amusement in it, as she did in every- 
 thing. The other girls made remarks of wither- 
 ing scorn to her, as she flew by, but Cricket only 
 laughed and tossed back her curly head, and ran 
 on. 
 
 At last there was a longer disappearance than 
 usual. After a time Zaidee and Helen, with Ken- 
 neth lagging after, came disconsolately around to 
 the front piazza. Zaidee's soft, silky, black hair 
 lay in wet streaks, plastered down on her fore- 
 head, while Helen's golden locks were as tightly 
 curled as grape-tendrils. 
 
 " We can't find Cricket any more, for she 's 
 runned away," announced Zaidee, aggrieved. 
 
 " We 've hunted and hunted," said Helen.
 
 A NEW HIDING-PLACE. 297 
 
 " We heard her calling once, but when we got 
 where she was, she was n't there any more." 
 
 " She '11 be back in a moment," said Eunice, 
 mopping off the little hot head with a practised 
 hand. " You sit still and get cool. Really, 
 'Liza ought not to let you run around this way, 
 in the hot sun." 
 
 " Just what I came out to say," said auntie, 
 appearing in the doorway. " I came down to 
 tell you, my dear little girls, that it is much too 
 hot to run around this way any more. You must 
 sit down and rest till after dinner. Where 's 
 Cricket?" 
 
 " She 's hided, and we can't find her any- 
 where," repeated Zaidee. 
 
 " She will come out presently, when she finds 
 you are n't looking for her any more," said 
 auntie, sitting down. " How fares our noble 
 editor ? " 
 
 "Your noble editor has most finished," said 
 Eunice, surveying, with pride, her neatly printed 
 pages. " If you could only stay next week, Hilda, 
 we 'd let you print a number." 
 
 " I would just as soon as not," said Hilda. " I 
 can print very nicely. I 'd like to. I 'd put 
 big, beautiful fancy capitals for the ' Echo,' and
 
 298 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 the names of the stories in fancy capitals also, 
 and I 'd draw tail-pieces." 
 
 Eunice and Edna exchanged glances. 
 
 " It 's a very great pity you can't stay," said 
 Edna, with marked politeness. " We can't do 
 tail-pieces." The two little girls, Hilda and Edna, 
 were just enough alike to clash very often, though 
 Edna was never given to bragging, as Hilda 
 sometimes was, and she was much more unselfish. 
 
 " I can draw very well," said Hilda, serenely, 
 and with perfect truth. Like Edna, she had a 
 dainty touch. 
 
 The minutes passed by, and still Cricket did 
 not appear. Presently auntie raised her head, 
 and listened. 
 
 " I thought I heard Cricket calling," she said, 
 " but I don't hear it again." 
 
 A moment later, Eunice suddenly said : 
 
 "There certainly is some one calling. Is it 
 Cricket?" She stood up to listen better. A 
 muffled cry was certainly heard. 
 
 " Children ! Eunice ! " 
 
 Eunice shot off the piazza. 
 
 " Yes, Cricket, where are you ? " running 
 around the house. In a few moments she reap- 
 peared from the other side.
 
 A NEW HIDING-PLACE. 299 
 
 " Where can she be ? I ran all around the 
 barn, too. Hark ! there it is again ! Cricket ! 
 where are you ? " 
 
 And again every one heard the same muffled 
 cry, " Eunice ! " 
 
 "Now it sounds in the house," said Mrs. 
 Somers, going in. 
 
 They all joined in the search, running in every 
 direction, and trying to locate the indistinct 
 sounds. She was evidently in trouble, but they 
 could not imagine why she did not tell them 
 where she was. Somebody suggested the garret, 
 and they all trooped up there and searched every 
 corner in vain. Then closets, even to the rub- 
 bers-closet under the stairs, were investigated. 
 If they stood inside the house, her call seemed 
 to come from outside. If they went out, she 
 seemed to be calling from inside. After the barn 
 and woodshed were searched, there was really 
 no place for her to conceal herself in. 
 
 " This is certainly the strangest thing ! " said 
 Auntie Jean, at last in despair. " Cricket, dear 
 child, where are you ? " looking up at the trees. 
 
 " I don't know ! " wailed a voice so near them 
 that they all jumped. They were near the open 
 cellar window, where the coal was put in.
 
 300 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Down cellar ! " cried Eunice, darting away. 
 " She must be caught somewhere ! " 
 
 But down cellar, the sounds, though still audi- 
 ble, were more vague than ever. 
 
 " It really sounds in the furnace," suggested 
 Eunice, hopefully, going forward. She threw open 
 the door, rather expecting to see Cricket crouch- 
 ing in a bunch in the fire-box. But no ! it was 
 guiltless of Cricket, as every other place had been. 
 
 "This is getting positively uncanny," ex- 
 claimed auntie, when suddenly a tremendous 
 pounding that seemed to come from their very 
 feet was heard. Hilda grew pale, Edna clung to 
 her mother, Zaidee began to roar, and Helen to 
 whimper, while Eunice sprang forward, listening 
 intently. 
 
 " Do that again, Cricket," she said, and imme- 
 diately the pounding was repeated. 
 
 " If I had ever heard of an underground pas- 
 sage here, I should think she was in that," said 
 auntie, looking puzzled. " If it were Governor 
 Winthrop's house, all could be explained. 
 Cricket, in the name of all that is weird, where 
 are you ? " 
 
 "I don't know," came in sepulchral tones. 
 " I seem to be walled up ! "
 
 A NEW HIDING-PLACE. 301 
 
 " Oh ! " shrieked Hilda, clutching Mrs. Somers' 
 other hand. 
 
 " Are you underground ? Shall we dig you 
 out ? " called auntie. 
 
 Eunice stood turning her head from side to 
 side, like a dog. Then she made a rush for a 
 large closet at one side of the cellar. It was 
 nearly empty except for a few stone jars. 
 
 " I looked in there once," said auntie, but as 
 Eunice opened the door, the pounding began 
 again, apparently directly back of it. 
 
 " But the back of the closet is against the cel- 
 lar wall," said Auntie Jean in new bewilderment, 
 but at the very moment, Cricket's voice, clearer 
 now and more distinct, announced, " I 'm here," 
 with a vigorous kick, to emphasize her words. 
 " Can't you get me out ? I 'm nearly dead." 
 
 " But what are you in, and how in the name of 
 wonder did you get there ? " said Auntie Jean, 
 more puzzled than ever, surveying the blank 
 boards before her. " Eunice, run and find Luke, 
 and tell him to come here. Are you against the 
 cellar wall, Cricket ? " 
 
 " I don't seem to know where I am," answered 
 Cricket, half-laughing. " I 've fallen into some- 
 thing."
 
 302 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 In a few minutes Eunice returned with Luke. 
 The moment he looked in at the open closet door, 
 he burst into a loud guffaw, slapping his thigh 
 with his hand. 
 
 " She 's in the cold-air box, by gosh ! " 
 
 "The cold -air box!" echoed everybody in 
 varying intonations. It was even so. The old 
 house had an unusually deep cellar. When the 
 furnace had been put into the house a few years 
 before, the cold-air box had to go in as best it 
 could. It happened to be more convenient to 
 build it down the back of an unused closet 
 which already had an opening for a window at 
 the level of the ground. So the back of the 
 closet had been partioned off for it, and it was 
 continued under the cemented floor to the fur- 
 nace. Luke had lately been doing something to 
 it, so both the cover that shuts off the cold air 
 was out, and also the wire-netting, that went 
 over the window. 
 
 Cricket seeing the window from the outside, 
 took it for granted that it opened into the coal- 
 bin, and, in her heedless fashion, backed hastily 
 through, as she was looking for a good place 
 to hide in, meaning to swing down by her hands, 
 and drop on her feet. She did drop, what to
 
 A NEW HIDING-PLACE. 303 
 
 her surprise seemed about to the middle of the 
 earth, and it really was some distance. The 
 cellar, as I said, was unusually deep, and Cricket 
 was only four feet high. Every one knows how 
 surprising it is to come down even a foot or two 
 lower than we expect, and the swift, long drop, 
 when she thought she must be already near the 
 cellar bottom, not only startled, but slightly 
 stunned her for a few moments. When she 
 opened her eyes after the black, dizzy whirl that 
 lasted for several minutes, she could not imagine 
 what sort of a place she was in. The light 
 above her showed her a square, well-like tunnel, 
 set up on end, and about two feet square, with 
 the window ledge five feet higher than her 
 head. At first she tried to climb up the wall 
 by bracing herself on opposite sides of it, but 
 her muscles were not quite equal to this. It 
 was not until it slowly dawned on her that 
 she could not possibly get out by her own 
 efforts, that she began to call. Of course her 
 voice was carried by the furnace pipes all over 
 the house, making it impossible to locate the 
 sound. 
 
 " There 's a big hole down by my feet," Cricket 
 called out, when she heard them debating as to
 
 304 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 the best way to get her out. " Can't I crawl 
 through that and come out somewhere ? " 
 
 " You 'd come out in the furnace, Miss," said 
 Luke, " and you 'd get stuck in the bend. I '11 
 haul you up from the outside." 
 
 They all went outside, while Luke tried to 
 reach down to her, but their hands could not 
 make connections. 
 
 " Let a ladder down," said Eunice, but there 
 was not room for both a ladder and Cricket, 
 even if one could have been put down. 
 
 " Let a rope down, and tie it around her 
 waist," said Luke, " and I '11 haul it up." 
 
 " I 'm afraid that would hurt her," said auntie, 
 anxiously. 
 
 Just then Will and Archie arrived on the 
 scene, and joined the group around the window. 
 
 " What 's up ? caught a burglar down there ? " 
 asked Will. 
 
 " Yes, one caught in the very act. Question 
 is, getting it up." 
 
 " Will, is that you ? " called a forlorn voice 
 from the depths. " Do, for goodness sake, get 
 me out of this hole." 
 
 Archie instantly poked his head through the 
 opening, and looked down at her.
 
 A NEW HIDING-PLACE. 305 
 
 " Cricket, by jingo ! How 's the weather 
 down there ? " 
 
 " Don't tease now, Arch," begged Cricket. 
 " Get me up, for I 'm nearly dead down here." 
 
 "Why don't you knock away some of the 
 boards from the partition down-stairs ? " asked 
 Will. " It would n't take a moment. Where's 
 the axe, Luke ? " 
 
 " Will, you 're the Lady from Philadelphia," 
 exclaimed his mother. " Of course we can." 
 
 And in ten minutes more Cricket was a free 
 individual again, and quite ready to attack their 
 belated dinner.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 BILLY'S PKAYER. 
 
 A LITTLE procession trailed slowly across the 
 orchard, towards the cottage of the poor old 
 woman in whom grandma was so much inter- 
 ested. The procession consisted of Hilda and 
 Cricket, the latter walking very sedately along, 
 because she had in charge a dish of something 
 good to eat for the old woman ; then the twins, 
 with their arms tight around each other's necks, 
 as usual ; then old Billy, shambling along, his 
 gaunt figure a little bent forward, and his hands 
 clasped behind his back, under his coat tails, as 
 he generally walked. Last of all came George 
 W., stepping daintily along, his tail arching high 
 over his back, his head cocked a little on one 
 side, like a dog's, and his ears briskly erect. 
 
 George was not an invited member of the 
 party, but from his favorite perch, the roof of 
 the well-house for George W. was always of 
 an aspiring mind having seen the party set 
 out, he immediately scrambled down and trotted 
 after. It was some time before he was dis-
 
 BILLY'S PRAYER. 307 
 
 covered; not, indeed, till an apple, tumbling 
 down from a branch of a tree, chanced to hit 
 the very tip of his little gray nose. Thereupon 
 he uttered a surprised " me-ow," with an accent 
 that belonged to George W. alone. 
 
 " There 's that cat, coming along, too," ob- 
 served Hilda, " is n't he a little tag-tail ? " 
 
 " See how pretty Martha looks waving over 
 his back like an ostrich feather ! " said Cricket, 
 in reply, making a dive for her pet with her one 
 free hand, and nearly meeting with an accident, 
 for George W. preferred walking on his own 
 four legs just then, and darted past her. 
 
 " There ! you nearly lost your blanc-mange off 
 the dish ! " cried Hilda, rescuing it. " I knew 
 I 'd better carry it ! " 
 
 "It's all right," said Cricket, hastily straight- 
 ening it. " I '11 carry it. We go this way now," 
 as they turned out of the orchard into a lane. 
 Grandma's poor woman, " Marm Plunkett," as 
 the whole neighbourhood called her, was a for- 
 lorn old creature, nearly crippled with rheu- 
 matism, who lived in a tiny cottage in the fields, 
 half a mile from anybody. She had a daughter 
 who had to go to work nearly every day to earn 
 money to support them both, so the old mother
 
 308 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 was alone most of the time. She had worked a 
 good deal for Mrs. Maxwell, when she was 
 strong, and Mrs. Maxwell did much to make her 
 comfortable now. Edna had often been there, 
 and lately the twins had been over with Eliza, 
 to take things to her, since grandma had been 
 disabled, but it chanced that Cricket had never 
 been over there before. 
 
 The poor old soul was delighted to see them 
 coming. The cottage was in such a lonely place 
 that few persons came within sight of the 
 windows. 
 
 " You 're as welcome as the flowers in May," 
 quavered the thin old voice, as the children 
 went in. " I 've been a-settin' here just a-pinin' 
 fer some one to come along to visit with me a 
 spell. Take cheers, won't you ? Leastways, 
 take what cheers there be." 
 
 There were only two to take, and one of 
 them was seatless. Hilda dropped into the 
 whole one. Billy sat down on the doorstep. 
 The twins sat upon the board edge of the bot- 
 tomless chair. Cricket remained standing, with 
 the blanc-mange still in her hand. All of them, 
 shy, as children always are in the presence of 
 poverty and sickness, stared helplessly about.
 
 BILLY'S PRAYEK. 309 
 
 " We 've brought you some blanc-mange, marm 
 I mean Mrs. Plunkett " for grandma did 
 not like them to use the village nickname 
 said Cricket, after a moment, " and Auntie Jean 
 will be here to-morrow." 
 
 "An' it's a pretty-spoken lady she is," an- 
 swered Marm Plunkett. " But it 's Mis' Max- 
 well that I allers wants ter see most. When '11 
 she git to see me agin ?" 
 
 Cricket coloured furiously. 
 
 " Grandma 's lame, now," she said, speaking 
 up bravely. " I was wrestling with her, and I 
 threw her, and sprained her ankle. She can't 
 stand on it much yet." 
 
 " Good Land o' Goshen ! a-wrestlin' with Mis' 
 Maxwell ! you little snip of a gal ! and thro wed 
 her ! for goodness' sake ! deary me ! throwed 
 her!" 
 
 " Yes," said Cricket, with the air of confessing 
 to a murder, as she set down the blanc-mange. I 
 dorit see how I could have done it. I just 
 twisted my foot around her ankle. I was just 
 as much surprised as if the the church had 
 tumbled over. It was a week ago Monday." 
 
 " Jest to think on 't ! I never heerd the beat 
 o' that ! An' nobody hain't told me of it, nuther.
 
 310 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 'Lizy was here yestiddy, and she hain't never let 
 on a word." 
 
 " I guess grandma told her not to," said Cricket, 
 blushing again. 
 
 " Let me see," said the old woman, suddenly, 
 bending forward and peering into her face. 
 " Which one be you ? You ain't Miss Edny. Be 
 you Miss Eunice ? " 
 
 " I 'm Cricket," said that young lady, quite at 
 her ease now. " Most probably you 've never 
 heard of me before. We 're all grandma's grand- 
 children, and are spending the summer here. At 
 least, we 're all grandchildren but Hilda. She 's 
 visiting me. She is going home to-morrow, and 
 I 'm awfully sorry." 
 
 Marm Plunkett paid no attention to the end of 
 this speech. She was bending eagerly forward, 
 looking at Cricket through her big steel-bowed 
 glasses. 
 
 " Have I seen Miss Cricket ! Have 
 
 I seen her!" came slowly from the old 
 
 woman's lips, as she clasped her hands over her 
 
 staff, still gazing at her as if she were a rare, 
 
 wild animal. Cricket felt somewhat disconcerted. 
 
 " Yes, I 'm Cricket," she repeated, uncomfort- 
 ably, feeling guilty of something. She felt as if
 
 BILLY'S PRAYER. 311 
 
 she were confessing to being an alligator, for 
 instance. 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell had often amused the old woman 
 by tales of her grandchildren, and as Cricket 
 always had more accidents and disasters than all 
 the rest of the family put together, she had natu- 
 rally figured largely in her grandmother's stories. 
 
 " Have I seen Miss Cricket ! " re- 
 peated the old woman, stretching out her hand 
 as if she wanted to touch her to make sure she 
 was flesh and blood. Cricket went towards her, 
 rather reluctantly. Marm Plunkett laid her 
 shaking claws on her hands, felt of her arms, 
 and even laid the point of her withered finger in 
 the dimple of the round, pink cheek. Cricket 
 winced. She felt as if she were a chicken, which 
 the cook was trying, to see if it were tender. 
 
 " I I did n't know you knew me," she said, 
 trying to be polite and not pull away. 
 
 " I have seen Miss Cricket," declared 
 Marm Plunkett, triumphantly, at last. " Who 'd 
 'a' thought it ! She 's come to see me. Won't 
 'Cindy be glad an' proud to hear of this honour." 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Cricket, trying not to laugh. 
 "I'd have come before, if I'd known you'd 
 wanted to see me so much."
 
 312 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 " Would you really, my pretty ? Now, ain't 
 that sweet of her ? " admiringly, to Hilda. 
 
 Hilda sat looking on in dumb amazement. 
 She was so accustomed to feeling a little superior 
 to Cricket, on account of her orderliness and 
 generally good behaviour, that she was struck 
 with surprise at the old woman's joy over seeing 
 her little friend, while she sat by unnoticed. 
 She did not know how many a laugh and pleas- 
 ant hour the stories of Cricket's mishaps had 
 given the lonely old woman. 
 
 " Yer favour yer ma, I see," said Marm Plun- 
 kett, still holding Cricket's sleeve. " Dear ! 
 dear ! she was a pretty one, that she was ! 
 You 've got shiny eyes like her'n, but yer hair 's 
 a mite darker, ain't it ? My ! ain't them curls 
 harndsonie ! " touching very gently one of the 
 soft rings of Cricket's short hair. It was never 
 regularly curled, but had a thorough brushing 
 given it by Eliza every morning, and, five minutes 
 after, the dampness or the summer heat made 
 her like a Gloriana McQuirk. 
 
 Cricket looked dreadfully embarrassed, and 
 had n't the least idea what to say to this peculiar 
 old woman, who repeated, softly, with no eyes 
 for the rest :
 
 BILLY'S PRAYER. 313 
 
 " Have I seen Miss Cricket ! " 
 
 Fortunately, here a howl from Zaidee created 
 a diversion. She had pushed herself too far 
 back on the bottomless chair, and had suddenly 
 doubled up like a jack-knife into the hole. As 
 Hilda and Cricket hastily turned, nothing was 
 visible but a pair of kicking feet, for her little 
 short petticoats had fallen back over her head, 
 entirely extinguishing her. Helen instantly lifted 
 up her voice and wept. 
 
 Cricket seized Zaidee' s feet and Hilda her 
 shoulders, and together they tried to pull her up. 
 But she was a plump little thing, and was so 
 firmly wedged in, that the chair rose as they 
 pulled her. 
 
 " Billy, come hold the chair down, please," 
 called Cricket. So, with Billy to brace his huge 
 foot on the round of the chair, and to hold down 
 the back with his hands, Cricket and Hilda, with 
 another vigorous pull, managed to undouble 
 Zaidee. 
 
 Marm Plunkett had been sitting in a state of 
 great excitement, while the rescue was going on, 
 and leaned back with a sigh of relief when the 
 little girl was finally straightened out. Zaidee 
 took it very philosophically.
 
 314 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Stop crying, Helen," she said, " you are 
 such a cry-baby. This is a very funny chair, 
 Harm Plunkett. How do people sit down on 
 it ? Do you like it that way ? I 'xpect I 'm so 
 little that I can't keep on the outside of it. I 
 guess I don't want to sit down any more, any 
 way." 
 
 Marm Plunkett cackled a thin, high laugh. 
 
 " Ef children don't beat the Dutch ! Wisht 
 I hed some a-runnin' in an' out to kinder chirk 
 me up a bit when Cindy's away." 
 
 " I want a drink, please," announced Zaidee. 
 
 " Bless yer leetle heart ! You shall hev a 
 drink right outen the northeast corner of our 
 well, where it 's coldest. Take the dipper, Billy, 
 an' give the leetle dears a good cold drink all 
 around." 
 
 "I want one, too," said Cricket, and all the 
 children trooped after Billy. 
 
 The well had the old-fashioned well-sweep. 
 
 It was always a mysterious delight to the 
 children to see the water drawn from one of 
 these, as the great end went slowly up and 
 the bucket dipped, and then came down again 
 with a stately, dignified sweep. 
 
 Cricket darted forward.
 
 BILLY'S PRAYER. 315 
 
 " I 've always wanted to ride up on that end," 
 she said, to herself, " and now I 'm going to." 
 
 Quick as a flash she had jumped astride the 
 end, grasping the pole with both hands. George 
 W. instantly sprang lightly up in front of her, 
 just out of her reach, poising himself with 
 " Martha" arching over his back. The twins 
 and Hilda, hanging over the edge and look- 
 ing down on the mossy stones, did not notice 
 her. 
 
 " Get it out of the northeast corner, she said," 
 ordered Zaidee. " Which is the northeast 
 corner, Billy ? Is it where the water comes 
 in ? Billy, there are n't any corners. It 's all 
 round." 
 
 Billy was tugging at the slender pole that held 
 the bucket. 
 
 " Goes down hard enough. Seems to want 
 ilin' or suthin.' Land o' Jiminy ! " He chanced 
 to turn his head and saw Cricket calmly ascend- 
 ing as the pole went higher and higher. It was 
 a wonder he did not lose his hold. 
 
 " Don't let go, Billy," Cricket screamed. " If 
 you do, I '11 go kerflump" 
 
 Billy grasped the pole tighter. 
 
 " You '11 you '11 fall," he stammered.
 
 316 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Course I will if you let go. Go on ! Let 
 the bucket down. I 'm having a fine ride. Do 
 you like it, George Washington ? " 
 
 George Washington walked a step or two 
 further down the beam. He was not at all sure 
 he did like it. As there did not seem to be 
 room enough for him to turn around and run 
 back to Cricket, as he very much wanted to do, he 
 stood still, mewing uncertainly. Billy, in agony 
 of soul, but obedient as ever, lowered the pole 
 carefully, casting reproachful glances over his 
 shoulder. Hilda and the twins stood in fasci- 
 nated silence, looking at Cricket getting such a 
 beautiful high ride. As for George Washington, 
 as the pole slanted more and more, making his 
 head lower and his rear higher, he made a few 
 despairing steps forward. Lower went the 
 bucket, and George W.'s Martha lost her proud 
 arch, and George stuck his claws deep into the 
 wood. 
 
 " Oh-ee ! " squealed Cricket, suddenly begin- 
 ning to feel slightly uncomfortable herself. The 
 ground looked very far below her, and she began 
 to feel as if she were pitching headforemost. 
 She held on with her hands, as tightly as George 
 Washington did with his claws. Then the
 
 BILLY'S PKAYER. 31T 
 
 bucket hit the water, splash. Dipping it made 
 the big pole dance a little. 
 
 " Oh-ee," squealed Cricket, again, clinging 
 tighter. " Hurry up, Billy, bring me down." 
 
 " Miau-au," wailed George Washington, sud- 
 denly, giving a mighty spring of desperation. 
 Alas ! he missed his calculation, if he had time 
 to make any, and disappeared from the eyes of 
 the children into the dark depths of the well. 
 Cricket, forgetting her own precarious position, 
 involuntarily gave a little grasp after him, thus 
 losing her own hold, lost her balance, and 
 over she went, and if she had fallen that fif- 
 teen feet to the hard ground below, it might 
 have brought to a sudden end her summer at 
 Marbury. 
 
 As it fortunately happened, however, she 
 caught at the pole as she went over, grasped 
 it, and hung suspended by her strong little 
 hands. Frightened Billy had been holding the 
 smaller pole all this time, in a vise-like grip. 
 
 " Let me down ! " screamed Cricket. " Care- 
 fully, Billy ! " and Billy, stiff with terror, nev- 
 ertheless had the sense to obey. He raised the 
 small pole steadily, lest the other, with Cricket's 
 added weight, should come down too fast. In
 
 318 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 a moment more she was near enough to the 
 ground to drop lightly down. 
 
 A tremendous splashing and mewing had been 
 going on in the well, but the children had been 
 too much absorbed in Cricket to notice it. 
 
 " Tis n't as much fun as I thought it would 
 be," was all she said, as she darted forward to 
 look down the well after her pet. " Let the 
 bucket down again, Billy, and see if he '11 cling 
 to it. Oh, you poor, poor George Washington. 
 Billy, do hurry up ! Why, he '11 drown" 
 
 But Billy had given out. He was so thor- 
 oughly frightened when he discovered Cricket 
 on her lofty perch, that, now that she was safely 
 down, he was shaking like a leaf. Cricket 
 pushed him unceremoniously away, as she 
 peered down. 
 
 George Washington looked like a good -sized 
 muskrat, as they saw him clinging to the wet, 
 mossy stones, meowing pitifully. He was either 
 too frightened or too cold to make any effort to 
 climb up. Perhaps he could not have done so 
 anyway. Cricket lowered the bucket again her- 
 self, till it struck the water. The splash seemed 
 to frighten George Washington only the more, 
 for his cries were redoubled.
 
 BILLY'S PKAYEE. 319 
 
 "What a stupid cat!" cried Hilda. "Why 
 does n't he take hold and come up ? " 
 
 " He 's frightened to death down there in the 
 cold. He 's never stupid, are you, George W. ? 
 I 'm so afraid he '11 die of getting wet and cold 
 before we can save him ! " cried Cricket, anx- 
 iously, flopping the bucket about. "Do take 
 hold of it, George ! dear George, do ! " 
 
 But Cricket's most coaxing tones availed 
 nothing. George only meowed and meowed 
 in accents that grew more pitiful every minute. 
 
 "Do run and tell Marm Plunkett that the 
 kitten 's in the well, Hilda," said Cricket, at 
 last. " Perhaps she '11 know something to do. 
 Look out, children ! don't lean over so far, else 
 the first thing you know you '11 be down there, 
 too. Oh, George Washington, please take 
 hold!" 
 
 Hilda ran off, and came back a moment later 
 with rather a scared face. 
 
 " I told her, Cricket, and what do you think 
 she said ? That we must be sure not to let it 
 die there, 'cause it would poison the water ! She 
 seemed dreadfully frightened about it, and tried 
 to get up, but of course she could n't, and then 
 she said she said she'd pray for us." Hilda' s
 
 320 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 voice sank to an awed whisper. Cricket looked 
 blank. 
 
 Billy caught up the word eagerly. 
 
 "Yes,, yes, children, that's right o' Marm 
 Plunkett. It 's allers good to pray," and down 
 went simple old Billy on his knees. " You keep 
 on a-danglin' that ere bucket, and I '11 pray fur 
 ye, young uns. That '11 fetch him." He clasped 
 his hands and shut his earnest eyes. 
 
 The children stood in awed silence. Billy, 
 swaying back and forth in his eagerness, began 
 in a high-keyed voice, sounding unlike his ordi- 
 nary tones : 
 
 " ' How dothe the little busy bee 
 
 Improve each shining hour ; 
 
 And gather honey all the day 
 
 From every fragrant flower' Amen." 
 
 Poor old Billy ! this scrap of a rhyme, learned 
 in his far - away boyhood, was the one bit that 
 had stuck in his clouded mind all these years, 
 and had served this pious soul for a prayer ever 
 since. Every night, kneeling reverently by his 
 bedside, he had said it, and every morning 
 when he arose ; only then he added the petition, 
 " God bless Mrs. Maxwell, and make Billy 
 good."
 
 BILLY'S PKAYER. 321 
 
 Cricket and Hilda, too much amazed to speak, 
 but too much impressed with Billy's earnestness 
 to laugh, stood stock-still as they were ; Hilda 
 in the act of stretching out her hands to draw 
 Zaidee back from the well - curb, where she 
 hung, in imminent danger of following George 
 W., and Cricket, still grasping the pole, and 
 looking back over her shoulder, and Helen 
 staring with her great eyes. 
 
 As Billy ceased, there was an oppressive mo- 
 ment of silence. He remained on his knees, 
 swaying his gaunt frame slightly, with his eyes 
 still closed. Suddenly Cricket felt the bucket 
 lurch as it lay on the surface of the water below. 
 She looked quickly over the well-curb. 
 
 " Oh, Hilda ! Billy, hurrah ! he 's climbed upon 
 the bucket at last ! He 's way up on it. Now, 
 we '11 have him ! " and with Hilda to help, she 
 began cautiously to raise the bucket. 
 
 Billy slowly got up from the ground, and 
 dusted off his trouser knees. 
 
 " It 's allers wuth while a-prayin' for things," 
 he remarked. 
 
 In a few minutes the bucket was on a level 
 with the well-curb, and while Hilda held the 
 pole, Cricket drew out her dripping, shivering 
 pet.
 
 322 CEICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Such a rubbing as he got in Marm Plunkett's 
 little kitchen ! He was very much exhausted 
 with his cold bath, and I 'm afraid that a very 
 few minutes longer in the icy water would have 
 ended one of George Washington's nine lives. 
 
 " All the curl has gone out of Martha, even," 
 remarked Cricket, mournfully, surveying his 
 straight tail. 
 
 " His tail will curl over again, when he begins 
 to chirk up a bit," said Marm Plunkett, comfort- 
 ingly. " He 'd orter hev a dish of milk het up for 
 him right away," she added. " Wisht I hed 
 some to offer you." 
 
 " I '11 go right home with him, then, Marm 
 Plunkett, and I '11 run all the way. I '11 borrow 
 this little shawl of yours, if you '11 let me, to keep 
 him warm. Now, I 'm going to run, but the rest 
 of you need n't come so fast. Good-by, Marm 
 Plunkett. I '11 come and see you again, some 
 other day;" and off darted Cricket, followed 
 more leisurely by the rest, leaving Marm Plun- 
 kett still murmuring, 
 
 " Have I seen Miss Cricket ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 HELEN'S TEXT. 
 
 " OH, dear me ! " sighed Eunice, dolefully, the 
 next morning at breakfast. " What dreadful 
 changes there are going to be ! Hilda goes to- 
 day, the boys leave on Monday for their camp, 
 and Edna goes on Tuesday to her grandmother's. 
 Cricket and I will be left all forlorn." 
 
 " Yes," added Cricket, pulling a long face, 
 " and on Tuesday morning Eunice and I will be 
 wearing the garbage of woe." 
 
 " Whatever you rig yourself up in, Miss 
 Scricket," said Archie, amid the general laugh- 
 ter, " don't deck yourself out in garbage. You'd 
 be a public nuisance. Flowing ' robes of porce- 
 lain,' like the heroine of one of your stories, 
 would be better." 
 
 " You need n't tease me a,bout that, for you 
 know as well as anything that I meant perca- 
 line" 
 
 But Auntie Jean and grandma had to enjoy 
 this alone, for the boys were not equal to the fine 
 distinctions of girl's apparel.
 
 324 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 As Eunice said, there was a decided scatter- 
 ing of their little party. Hilda left Saturday 
 afternoon, the boys departed on Monday, for 
 their camp in the Maine woods, with a party of 
 friends, and on Tuesday Edna had to go for her 
 usual fortnight's visit to her grandmother 
 Somers, who always spent July and August at 
 Lake Clear. She was a very old lady, much 
 older than Grandma Maxwell, and a good deal 
 of an invalid. Edna much preferred staying 
 with her cousins, but Grandmother Somers was 
 very devoted to her only little granddaughter, 
 and this was the particular time when she 
 wanted her. Edna had never been there with- 
 out her mother before, and really dreaded it. 
 She had urged taking her cousins with her, but 
 Anntie Jean knew this would be altogether too 
 much responsibility for so old a lady to have, 
 since she herself could not leave Marbury. 
 
 " I hate to go like poison," sighed Edna to 
 Eunice, as they strolled up and down the station 
 platform, while waiting for the train. " I wish 
 I could stay here. I wish grandma was n't so 
 fond of me. I wish you could come, too. I 
 wish the two weeks were over. I wish 
 
 " Toot - to - toot ! " whistled the approaching 
 train.
 
 HELEN'S TEXT. 325 
 
 " Horrid old thing ! I wish it would run off 
 the track ! Wish Mrs. Abbott would forget to 
 start this morning. She isn't here yet. Do 
 you suppose she's forgotten?" with sudden 
 hopefulness. 
 
 Mrs. Abbott was a lady under whose care she 
 was going. 
 
 "No such good luck!" murmured Eunice. 
 " There she is now. Write to me every day, 
 Edna." 
 
 " And you '11 have time to write some 
 lovely stories for the ' Echo,' " chirped Cricket, 
 encouragingly. 
 
 " Yes, I will, and be glad too. It will be 
 something to do. Think of my saying I'd be 
 glad to write stories ! Yes, mamma good-by, 
 everybody," and with hugs and kisses all around, 
 Edna was put on the train and was off. 
 
 The children were both very quiet on their 
 return ride from the station, and Auntie Jean 
 began to fear that they might be homesick, with 
 all their playmates gone. But when they reached 
 home again Cricket drew Eunice into a quiet 
 corner, and surprised her by flinging her arms 
 around her neck, with a gigantic hug. 
 
 "I do love Hilda and Edna," she said, "but
 
 326 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 there 's nobody like my old Eunice, and I 'm so 
 glad to have you all to myself for a little while 
 again. I don't want to be selfish, and poor 
 Edna has n't any sister, but 
 
 " Why, you poor little thing ! " said Eunice, 
 hugging her small sister, heartily. "I expect 
 I've been very selfish. I 've never thought that, 
 perhaps, you were being lonely when I was 
 so much with Edna. You always seemed so 
 happy." 
 
 " Oh, I am happy I " answered Cricket, sur- 
 prised. " I always am, I guess. But I do love 
 to be with you, all by your lonesome, and now 
 let 's have some real old Kayuna times. Come 
 down on the beach, and let 's talk about it," with 
 another squeeze. And then, with their arms 
 about each other's waists, they ran down the 
 yard. 
 
 On the small sloping beach behind the -big 
 rocks, Zaidee and Helen and Kenneth were 
 playing by themselves. Helen and Kenneth 
 were sitting up very straight and stiff, with their 
 little legs out straight in front of them, and 
 their small hands folded in their laps. They 
 were listening with intent faces, and round, wide- 
 open eyes, to Zaidee, who, with small forefinger
 
 HELEN'S TEXT. 327 
 
 uplifted, was telling them something, with a 
 very serious face. The girls crept softly near 
 to see what they were doing. 
 
 " And these naughty chiPen," went on Zaidee, 
 " came out of the city, and they made lots of fun 
 of Lishers, and they ran after him, an' kept call- 
 ing him names, an' saying, ' Go up, ole bull- 
 head ! go up, ole bullhead ! ' An' Lishers got 
 very angry as angry as Luke did the other 
 day, when I asked him if he liked to have such 
 mixed-up eyes," (poor Luke was very cross-eyed, 
 and very sensitive about it), " and he said, 
 ' There 's some gre-at big bears in these woods, 
 'n' I'll call 'em to come and eat you chil'en 
 up, if you doesn't stop calling names. Only 
 bad little chil'en, 'thout any one to tell 'em any 
 better, calls names.' But they didn't one of 
 'em stop, an' Lishers just whistled, an' forty-two 
 bears came trotting right out of the woods, an' 
 eated up every one of those bad 
 chil'en, quicker 'n scat. 'Liza said so, herself. 
 So, Helen and Kenneth, you mustn't ever call 
 any one any names, an' specially you mustn't 
 call 'em ' bullheads,' cause bears will come out 
 of the woods an' eat you all up, and it 's very 
 unpolite, too."
 
 328 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Helen looked awed, and Kenneth unbelieving. 
 
 " Ain't any bears," he said, stoutly. 
 
 " You must n't inkerrupt the Sunday school," 
 said Zaidee, severely. " Any way, there are 
 crocky-dolls, if there ain't any bears. I saw a 
 funny, long thing come out of the water the 
 other day, and 'Liza said she guessed it was a 
 crocky-doll." 
 
 " Tould it eat me up ? " demanded Kenneth, 
 hastily. 
 
 " I don't think it could eat you all up at 
 once," said Zaidee, cautiously; "but it might 
 take bites out of you." 
 
 " What are you doing, children ? " said Eunice, 
 coming forward, and throwing herself on the 
 sand beside them, and pulling Helen, her special 
 pet, down into her arms. 
 
 " Playing Sunday school, Eunice," said Zai- 
 dee, sitting down, herself. " We 're going to 
 have a Sunday school every Tuesday afternoon, 
 just the same as you have the Echo Club, you 
 know. Helen's going to make up the texts. 
 She makes up beautiful texts, just like the 
 Bible." 
 
 "Why, Zaidee!" remonstrated Eunice, look- 
 ing shocked. " You must n't say that anything
 
 HELEN'S TEXT. 329 
 
 is as nice as the Bible. What was it, pet- 
 tikins?" 
 
 But Helen was shy, and needed much coaxing 
 before she could be persuaded to give her " text," 
 which was a very practical one. 
 
 " She who doth not what she is told, gets 
 worse." 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried Eunice, laughing. " That is 
 a fine text." 
 
 " She made it up all her own self," said 
 Zaidee, quite as proud of her twin's performance 
 as if it had been her own. 
 
 " I don't want to play Sunday school any 
 more, Zaidee," said Kenneth, getting up. " I 'd 
 rawer play turch. I'm ze talking man, wiv 
 white skirts on," he added, standing on a stone, 
 and waving his short arms about, for the young 
 man had made his first appearance at church the 
 Sunday before, and had wanted to play " turch " 
 ever since. 
 
 " You were a naughty boy," said Zaidee, re- 
 proachfully, "you talked out loud right in 
 meetin'-church, and I was so 'shamed." 
 
 "And you failed off the stool when all the 
 people were kneeling down and saying, ' The 
 seats they do hear us, Lord ; ' and you made
 
 330 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 a great big noise," added Helen, severely, for 
 her. 
 
 " ' The seats they do hear us,' " repeated 
 Cricket. " What does she mean, Eunice, do you 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " Why, don't you know, Cricket," explained 
 Helen, for herself. " When all the people are 
 kneeling down, and the minister keeps saying 
 things, and the people keep saying, ' The seats 
 they do hear us,' 'course they hear them, 'cause 
 they say it right at the back of the seats." 
 
 Eunice and Cricket shouted with laughter. 
 
 " She means, ' We beseech Thee to hear us,' " 
 cried Cricket, choking, quite as if she never 
 made any mistakes on her own account. But 
 other people's mistakes are so different from 
 our own. Helen, her sensitive feelings dread- 
 fully hurt, instantly retired under her apron, and 
 refused to be comforted. They always had to 
 be careful about laughing at Helen, whereas 
 Zaidee never seemed to mind. 
 
 " Never mind, pet," said Eunice, kissing and 
 petting her. " It was n't a very bad mis- 
 take." 
 
 " What 's this ? " said Cricket, to change the 
 subject. She had been plunging her arm down
 
 HELEN'S TEXT. 331 
 
 deep in the sand, and had struck something big 
 and bony. She cleared away the loose sand. 
 
 " That 's our cemi-terror," explained Zaidee ; 
 " we 'd been having a frinyal before we had Sun- 
 day school, and we buried that thing. We finded 
 it in the field the other day. Let 's pull it up 
 now, Helen. We 've had lots of frinyals, Cricket, 
 and we 've buried ever so many things in our 
 cemi-terror. Turkles and things like that, you 
 know." 
 
 Cricket, with some difficulty, extricated the 
 object. It was a great skull of a cow, bleached 
 as white as snow. 
 
 " 'Liza says it was a cow, once," observed Zai- 
 dee, poking her fingers in the big holes where the 
 eyes once were. " It was a pretty funny cow, 1 
 think. She says it has undressed all its flesh off, 
 and we 're all like that inside. But I 'm not, 
 see ? " and Zaidee opened her mouth wide and 
 offered it for inspection. " Mine 's all red inside." 
 
 " Mamma says we 're made of dust," said 
 Helen, thoughtfully. " If we 're made out of 
 dust, I don't see why we don't get all muddy 
 inside when we drink." 
 
 " I guess that 's why my hands get so dirty," 
 said Zaidee, suddenly, looking at her small, grimy
 
 332 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 palms with close attention. " I guess it sifts 
 right through my skin. Course I can't keep 
 clean when it keeps sifting through all the time, 
 and 'Liza says she don't see how I get myself so 
 dirty," with a funny imitation of Eliza's tones. 
 " I 'm going to tell her I can't help it. If she 
 keeps scrubbing me as fast as it comes out, it 
 may get all used up inside of me sometime," 
 went on Zaidee, who was nothing if not logical. 
 
 Helen thoughtfully squeezed Eunice's arm, 
 trying to squeeze some dust out, she said. 
 
 " Yours is all used up, I guess," she concluded, 
 as she met with no success. 
 
 Cricket set the skull upon the high stone 
 which Kenneth had been using for a pulpit. 
 
 " Look, Eunice ! It looks just like an idol, 
 sitting up there and grinning. Oh, let 's play 
 we 're idollers ourselves and worship it ! We '11 
 build a shrine for it, and we '11 offer it sacrifices. 
 Come on ! " and Cricket, with her usual energy, 
 fell to work instantly, building stones up for an 
 altar.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE JABBERWOCK. 
 
 " LET me help build up the shrime, too," said 
 Zaidee, bringing up stones also. " I want to 
 offer sacrumfices." 
 
 " You and Helen bring a lot of dried seaweed 
 to decorate it," said Cricket, working busily. 
 " That 's right, Kenneth. Bring all the pretty 
 shells you can, and we '11 put them all around 
 the sides. Look, Eunice ! does n't it look fine 
 already ! " 
 
 They had built up the " shrime " to a large 
 square pile, about two feet high, on the top of 
 which the grinning skull reposed. The dry sea- 
 weed draped the rough stones, and Kenneth's 
 shells were arranged about it. 
 
 " Now we must begin to offer sacrifices," said 
 Cricket. " We must have dishevelled hair, 
 Eunice, as the women always do in stories. I 
 can't muss mine up much more than it always 
 is," regretfully, " but you can take your braid 
 out, and throw your hair all around. Oh, that 's 
 lovely!" as Eunice loosened her heavy, dark
 
 334 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 braid, and threw the long, straight masses 
 all about. "How beautifully dishevelled you 
 are ! " 
 
 " I 'm glad I don't have to offer sacrifices 
 every day," laughed Eunice, "for dishevelled 
 hair is not comfortable, at least as dishevelled as 
 this. Perhaps I would n't mind a little bit of it." 
 
 " Come here, Zaidee, if you wish to join the pro- 
 cession," and Eunice caught her small sister, 
 and rubbed her hands vigorously over her short, 
 soft, straight hair, till it fairly stood on end. 
 Helen's hair curled like Cricket's, in a golden, 
 fluffy mass. 
 
 " Now, we 're all ready. We must march up 
 before the shrine, and lay our sacrifices at the 
 feet of the idol, and bow down before it." 
 
 " It has n't any foots," observed Zaidee. 
 
 " Well, before its mouth, then. It 's just as 
 'propriate, I guess. Come over here, and get 
 into line, Eunice. You go first and I '11 follow, 
 and the children will come on behind. We 
 must go up with weeping and wailing and gnash- 
 ing our teeth," said Cricket, getting Biblical. 
 
 " How do you gnash your tooths ? " inquired 
 Helen. 
 
 " I '11 show you," said Cricket, immediately
 
 THE JABBERWOCK. 335 
 
 rolling her eyes, and opening and shutting her 
 mouth with such fearful snaps of her teeth, that 
 Helen instantly retreated behind Zaidee for pro- 
 tection. " Clutch your hair with both hands, this 
 way, and get into procession." 
 
 " Yes, but where 's the sacrifice ? " asked 
 Eunice, suddenly recollecting this important 
 part of the ceremony. 
 
 "I declare! I forgot all about it! What 
 shall we sacrifice ? " 
 
 " We finded a little dead mouse in the wood- 
 shed after breakfast," said Zaidee. " We were 
 going to give him to George Washington for 
 dessert to-day. We buried it in the cemi-terror 
 to keep till it was dinner-time." 
 
 " That will do. Dig it up. George Washing- 
 ton can sacrifice his mouse." 
 
 While Zaidee was unearthing George W.'s 
 intended dessert, Cricket had found a shingle for 
 a bier. They made a bed of seaweed on it, and 
 stretched the little dead mouse thereon. 
 
 " I 've an idea ! " exclaimed Eunice. " Let 's 
 call the idol the Jabberwock, and sing the Jabber- 
 wock song as we go up." 
 
 " Splendid ! " cried Cricket, clapping her 
 hands. " How does it go ?
 
 336 CKICKET AT THE SEASHOKE. 
 
 " ' Beware the Jabberwock, my son, 
 
 With jaws that bite and claws that catch.' 
 
 " Is n't that it ? " 
 
 " That 's the second verse," said Eunice 
 " Don't you remember, 
 
 " < 'T was brillig, and the slimy sea ? ' " 
 
 " Yes, now I do. All ready." 
 
 So the procession formed itself anew. Zaidee 
 and Helen bore the shingle-bier in front, Eunice 
 and Cricket came behind, tearing their hair, and 
 chanting in doleful tones how 
 
 " The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, 
 Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, 
 And burbled as it came ! " 
 
 Then, with appropriate ceremonies, they 
 offered up the mouse to the Jabberwock, and 
 then, joining hands, they danced around it, 
 howling and shrieking. 
 
 " More ! more ! " growled Cricket, in awful 
 tones, that were supposed to come from the 
 yawning throat of the Jabberwock. The smaller 
 children, by this time, were wildly excited, and 
 ready to offer up all their possessions. 
 
 " You may have my Crumples," screamed 
 Zaidee, making a dive for a little white china
 
 THE JABBERWOCK. 337 
 
 cat that lay near by with a pile of other play- 
 things that the children had been playing with. 
 
 " We must stone it to pieces first," said 
 Cricket, " and offer up the ashes," and soon 
 the china cat lay in fragments, and its " ashes " 
 were offered up. 
 
 "Let's take this old rubber -baby of Ken- 
 neth's," proposed Cricket. "You don't care 
 for it, do you, baby ? It has a hole in its 
 head." 
 
 Kenneth looked doubtfully at his beloved 
 Jacob for a moment, and then, quite carried 
 away by the excitement of the occasion, he 
 cried out, valiantly : 
 
 " You may have Dacob for ze Dabberwock." 
 
 One by one all the children's small posses- 
 sions lay before the jaws of the Jabberwock. 
 
 " Oh, Eunice ! children ! let 's have a fire, and 
 burn up all these sacrifices to the Jabberwock. 
 Think what a lovely thing he 'd think that is ! 
 Idols always love to have scenes of devastination 
 and ruin all about." 
 
 " I 'm afraid that would n't be safe," said 
 Eunice, hesitating. " Would auntie like it ? " 
 
 "Oh, she wouldn't care. What harm? 
 Nothing could get on fire out here on the
 
 338 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 sands, could there ? Of course, we would n't 
 if it was near the house anywhere. I '11 go 
 and get the matches," and off she darted like 
 a flash. 
 
 " Oh, are we going to have a fire, and burn up 
 the shrime?" cried Zaidee. "Goody! goody! 
 what fun ! they 're going to burn up the 
 shrime ! " 
 
 Cricket flew back with a match-box in her 
 hand. 
 
 " Now, get lots of dry seaweed, children," she 
 ordered, " and we '11 heap it around the pile, and 
 tuck it under the pile of sacrifices, so they '11 burn 
 better. Oh, won't that make a blaze ! " and 
 Cricket danced about in anticipation. "There, 
 Jabberwock ! I hope you '11 be ' tentified,' as 
 Zaidee says. Stand back, children. Come, 
 Eunice, and we '11 march up singing, and lay 
 our offering of a lighted match down before 
 him," and Cricket, chanting another verse of the 
 " Jabberwock," pranced up and struck a match. 
 
 The dry seaweed was instantly aflame, curling 
 and leaping like a live thing, around the pile of 
 stone. The children, dancing around and clap- 
 ping their hands, screamed in ecstasy at the 
 sight.
 
 THE JABBEEWOCK. 339 
 
 " Bring more seaweed," called Cricket, piling 
 on all she had, to keep up the darting flames. 
 The fire went springing up, licking the white 
 bones of the Jabberwock. In their excitement 
 the younger children scarcely noticed that their 
 treasures were actually burning up, also, till 
 Kenneth suddenly caught sight of his " Dacob," 
 writhing, and curling, and jumping about in the 
 most uncanny way, as if in mortal agony. The 
 poor baby darted forward to rescue it. 
 
 "It'shurted Dacob! He's all wiggly!" he 
 cried, and he tried to snatch his best beloved 
 doll from the flames. Eunice caught him back. 
 
 " Don't touch, baby. It will burn you. Ja- 
 cob can't feel it, and I '11 buy you another." 
 
 " He does feel it. It 's hurted him," cried 
 Kenneth, struggling to get away. With the 
 sudden spring he made, Eunice lost hold of him, 
 and he made a snatch at the burning sacrifice. 
 A long tongue of flame leaped up, caught like 
 a live thing the baby's linen dress, and in an 
 instant he was enveloped in flames. 
 
 For one horrible moment the other children 
 stood paralyzed with fright. Not to the longest 
 day she lives will Cricket forget the awful ter- 
 ror of that moment, as the thought surged up
 
 340 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 that, whatever happened, it was all her fault 
 Then, with a wild scream, to which all her previ- 
 ous ones had been as whispers, she darted for- 
 ward. Kenneth, blind with terror and pain, beat 
 at the flames with his tiny hands, and ran shriek- 
 ing down the beach, fanning the fire to a brighter 
 blaze. 
 
 Cricket was upon him in a moment. She 
 flung both her arms closely around him, stop- 
 ping his struggles, but the eager flames caught 
 her own light dress as she did so. Then away 
 she dashed, down over the few steps of beach 
 between herself and the incoming tide, and, with 
 him in her arms, threw herself forward in the 
 water. As she rolled over and over, the sullen 
 flames hissed and died. 
 
 Eunice was close behind her, shrieking for 
 help. It was nearly high tide, and the beach 
 sloped a little more abruptly there than in most 
 places. Cricket rose to her knees with Kenneth 
 in her arms, stumbled and fell forward again, 
 face downward, limp with the excitement and 
 the strain. Eunice, knee-deep in water, dragged 
 them both up, and, between pulling and half car- 
 rying, got them to the water's edge, just as 
 Auntie Jean, and Eliza, and Luke, came running
 
 THE JABBERWOCK. 341 
 
 from different directions. The flames, still fit- 
 fully shooting up from the smouldering seaweed, 
 told the story. 
 
 "Run for the doctor, Luke," cried Auntie 
 Jean, wasting no time in questions, as she lifted 
 little drenched, burned Kenneth tenderly in her 
 arms, and flew with him towards the house, leav- 
 ing Eliza to help Cricket. Kenneth's clothes 
 were so badly burned that they fell off from him 
 when she laid him down. He was a dreadful 
 sight, with his golden curls all gone, his face 
 blackened with smoke and soot, which the water 
 had only washed off in streaks. It was impossi- 
 ble for her to tell, at first, how much he was 
 injured. Fortunately, the doctor came almost 
 immediately. 
 
 It was an anxious hour that followed. Ken- 
 neth's most serious burns were on his arms and 
 body, for, while the golden curls were nearly 
 gone, his poor little face was, by some fortunate 
 chance, only slightly burned, since, as he ran 
 forward, his curls had blown back. Cricket was 
 burned quite severely on her arms and hands, 
 where she had clasped and held him. 
 
 After their wounds were dressed and bandaged, 
 and Kenneth, a little mummy-like bundle of old
 
 342 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 white linen, lay asleep, worn out with pain and 
 excitement, Auntie Jean found Cricket sobbing 
 quietly under the sheet. 
 
 " What is the matter, dear ? " asked auntie, 
 tenderly. " Are you in such pain ? " for she 
 knew that Cricket was a little Spartan in respect 
 to suffering. 
 
 " Yes, no-o," sobbed Cricket. " The pain is 
 bad, but I don't care for that. My conscience 
 aches so here. I can't stand it, 
 auntie. I ought to have been all burned up my- 
 self. I oughtn't to have had a fire. I knew 
 better, only I just thought what fun it would be. 
 To think the baby is burned, and all through my 
 horrid badness ! " 
 
 " My poor little girl ! " said Auntie Jean, piti- 
 fully. " That is the hardest of all for you to 
 bear, I well know. But after all, dear, you can 
 comfort yourself by thinking that, but for your 
 quickness, the little fellow must have burned to 
 death. You saved his life, after all. You did 
 what should have been done, so quickly." 
 
 " That is n't much comfort," sobbed Cricket. 
 " He ought n't to be burned at ah 1 . Anybody 
 would have thought to throw him in the water." 
 
 " I 'm not sure of that. In excitement people
 
 THE JABBERWOCK. 343 
 
 do not always use their wits especially chil- 
 dren. Even Eunice, thoughtful as she usually is, 
 was behind you." 
 
 " And I sprained grandma's ankle, too. I 
 ought to be put in prison," went on Cricket, in 
 a fresh deluge of remorse. 
 
 " Nobody blamed you for that, dearie, though 
 you are rather a thoughtless little body. But 
 the ankle was purely an accident. When it 
 comes to the playing with fire, however, you 
 really should have known better than to do such 
 a dangerous thing. But you have learned your 
 lesson, and now we must be thankful the conse- 
 quences are no worse." 
 
 Cricket raised a tear-stained face. 
 
 " Yes, only my dear baby ! If only I could 
 take all his burns ! I 'd set fire to myself and 
 burn myself up, if he could be well. I did the 
 mischief, and he gets the worst of it." 
 
 "Indeed, little Cricket," said Auntie Jean, 
 softly, almost to herself, as she bent and kissed 
 her little niece, " you will learn, as you grow 
 older, that that 's not the least hard part of all 
 the harm we do we do the mischief, and the 
 one we love best often gets the burns."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 AFTEK THE SACRIFICE. 
 
 THE next few days were not very happy ones. 
 Auntie Jean had her hands full. Grandma's 
 ankle was much better, to be sure, but still it 
 did not allow her to walk or stand on it but 
 very little, so that she could not be of much 
 assistance in the nursing that followed. Poor 
 little Kenneth suffered greatly from his burns, 
 and his fever ran high, and the very hot weather 
 made it harder for him to bear. He cried con- 
 tinually for his mother. He had not fretted 
 for her, especially, while he was well, but now 
 that he was sick he wailed constantly for 
 " Mamma." 
 
 Cricket was up and about, after a day or two. 
 Her arms and hands were still bandaged, and 
 she was very helpless about dressing and un- 
 dressing herself, but she felt better to be up. 
 She longed to do something for Kenneth, but 
 this was impossible, with both arms in slings. 
 These were rather dark days for the poor little 
 girl, for, on account of the anxiety about
 
 AFTER THE SACRIFICE. 345 
 
 Kenneth, she received less attention than she 
 otherwise would have had. She was very grate- 
 ful, however, that nobody reminded her that it 
 was chiefly her fault. 
 
 Unfortunately, her right hand, with which 
 she had first clasped Kenneth, was much more 
 seriously burned than the other. The left hand 
 came out of its sling at the end of three or four 
 days, and while the arm remained bandaged, she 
 could use her fingers. 
 
 " If it was only the other way," she mourned, 
 " I could write a lot of stories and things for the 
 ' Echo,' and my time would not be all wasted." 
 
 " Learn to write with your left hand," sug- 
 gested grandma. 
 
 " Could I ? " said Cricket, brightening. Why, 
 why not? It won't be like learning to write 
 over again. I 've often tried it, only my left- 
 hand fingers don't seem to have any push in 
 them." 
 
 " If you practise half an hour a day, you will 
 soon do wonders," said grandma, encouragingly. 
 "I had a brother, once, who was left-handed, 
 and he learned to use his right hand equally 
 well. He drew beautifully, and would often 
 work with a pencil in each hand. Not only
 
 346 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 that, but I have often seen him write with one 
 hand and draw with the other." 
 
 " Is n't that wonderful ? " exclaimed Cricket. 
 " I '11 begin to practise this minute, Eunice, if 
 you'll get me paper and pencil," she added, 
 eagerly. 
 
 She worked busily for a few minutes, in 
 silence, after the materials were brought her. 
 
 " It looks exactly like Zaidee's writing," she 
 said, at length, in disgust, after her first few 
 attempts. She wrote a firm, pretty hand for a 
 girl of her age, and these shaky, disjointed 
 letters, sprawling across the page, were very 
 discouraging. 
 
 " It looks like the tracks of a crazy ant," she 
 said, half laughing. 
 
 " If you practise faithfully for a few days you 
 will find they will look like the tracks of a very 
 sane ant," said grandma. " And, besides, think 
 how much easier it is to learn to write with your 
 left hand than with your toes." 
 
 " With your toes, grandma," came in a united 
 chorus. 
 
 " Yes, with your toes. I knew of a man, 
 once, who was born without any arms, and 
 
 " No arms at all ? Not one ? "
 
 AFTER THE SACRIFICE. 347 
 
 "Not one," answered grandma, smiling on 
 her eager questioner. " He was the son of a 
 very poor woman here in the village. They 
 lived in that little red cottage on the Bain- 
 bridge road, where you turn by the four 
 oaks." 
 
 " Without any arms ! Did he have shoulders ? " 
 asked Cricket. 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed. I saw them often when 
 he was a baby bare, I mean. The shoulder 
 ended smoothly where the arms should be. He 
 grew up a very bright little fellow. Running 
 barefoot all the time, as he did, I suppose he 
 learned to pick up things with his toes very 
 naturally. At any rate, when he was eight 
 years old he could even handle his knife and 
 fork with his toes." 
 
 " Ugh ! " shuddered Eunice, "Did he sit on the 
 table?" 
 
 " No, not quite so bad as that. He sat on a 
 little low stool, and his plate was put on the floor 
 in front of him. He would pick up his knife 
 and fork, cut up his meat, and feed himself as 
 deftly as possible. It was very funny." 
 
 "Think of washing his feet before dinner, 
 instead of his hands ! " giggled Cricket.
 
 348 CEICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " Could he get his feet right up to his mouth ? " 
 asked Eunice. 
 
 " Yes, easily. He was very limber." 
 
 Zaidee instantly sat down on the piazza floor 
 and attempted the performance. 
 
 " It most cracks my back," she said, getting 
 up and trying to reach around behind herself to 
 rub it. 
 
 "7 could do it," said supple Cricket, who 
 could sit on the floor and put her legs around 
 her neck. 
 
 "He went to the district school," went on 
 grandma, " and learned to read very quickly, 
 and his mental arithmetic was really wonderful. 
 Long examples that the others did on their 
 slates, he did. almost as quickly in his head. 
 One year, they had a very good, patient 
 teacher, who, noticing how deftly he picked up 
 all sorts of things with his toes, had the bright 
 idea of teaching him to write by holding his pen 
 between his toes. Now his toes, by constant 
 using, had grown longer and slenderer than 
 most people's, and in a very short time he could 
 guide a pencil sufficiently to make very legible 
 letters. Quite as much so as your first attempts 
 with your left hand, just now, Jean."
 
 AFTER THE SACRIFICE. 349 
 
 "Think of it!" exclaimed Cricket. "I'm 
 going to try it to-night when we go to bed, 
 Eunice." 
 
 " It was a funny sight to see him get ready 
 for his school work. When he arrived at school 
 his brother washed and dried his feet carefully, 
 and put on him an old pair of loose slippers to 
 keep them clean. His slate or paper would be 
 put on the floor before him, and he would slip 
 his foot out of his slipper, grasp his pencil, and 
 begin. By the end of a year, he really wrote 
 wonderfully well." 
 
 " Oh-h ! " sighed Zaidee. " Helen and I prac- 
 tised lots, last winter, with mamma, and we 
 can't write much now. We writed every day, 
 too." 
 
 " Where is the man now ? " asked Eunice. 
 " What became of him?" 
 
 " When he was a boy of fourteen or so, a 
 travelling circus manager heard of him, and 
 offered him a large salary to go with him to be 
 exhibited," answered grandma. " He got a 
 large salary, and after that helped support his 
 family. He learned to do many other things 
 with his toes, later, people said. For instance, 
 he drew beautifully, and could even hold a knife
 
 350 CEICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 and whittle a stick. The family soon left here, 
 and I never knew anything more about him. 
 So, my little Jean, are n't you encouraged to prac- 
 tise writing with your left hand, with good hope 
 of success ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, grandma," answered Cricket, 
 taking her pencil, and going to work again, 
 awkwardly but energetically. And I may just 
 say, in passing, that she worked to such good 
 effect, that in ten days' time her left-handed 
 writing, though it slanted backward, was firm 
 and legible. 
 
 " There ! " exclaimed Cricket, with a long 
 sigh, after her first half -hour was over, as she 
 rose to stretch her arm above her head, " I 've 
 written so long that I'm so tired that I can 
 hardly put one foot before the other." 
 
 " That would be a more appropriate senti- 
 ment if you were my no-armed man," said 
 grandma, smiling. 
 
 " I 'm just wild with keeping still, grandma ! 
 Resting makes me so tired. I want to go row- 
 ing or riding or walking. I 'd like to jump over 
 the moon, as far as my feelings go, but it makes 
 my arm ache if I move round much." 
 
 " Read aloud to us," suggested grandma, " and
 
 AFTER THE SACRIFICE. 351 
 
 perhaps Eunice will hold the wool for me while 
 you do." 
 
 Cricket liked to read aloud, and she got a 
 book very willingly. 
 
 " Here 's a lovely story," she said, " all about 
 battles and fighting, and exciting things. ' How 
 Captain Jack Won His Epauplets.' " 
 
 " Won his what ? " asked grandma, holding 
 her ball suspended. 
 
 " His epauplets. He was just a plain, every- 
 day soldier, you know, to start with." 
 
 " Oh ! won his epaulets, you mean," said 
 grandma, gravely. 
 
 " Won his oh, of course ! how stupid of 
 me ! " looking more closely at the word. " Now 
 I 've always thought that word was epauplets, 
 grandma, truly I did." 
 
 " Go on and begin," said Eunice ; " how did 
 he win them ? " 
 
 The reading proceeded quietly for a time. 
 Eunice held the wool, grandma wound it off, 
 and Zaidee and Helen played tonka on the 
 piazza steps. Tonka was a little Japanese game 
 on the order of jackstones, only, instead of hard, 
 nobby stones, that spoil the dimpled knuckles, 
 tiny bags of soft, gay silk, half full of rice, are
 
 352 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 used. Six little bags are made with the ends 
 gathered, and one more, the tonka, is made flat 
 and square of some different coloured silk, to 
 distinguish it, as the gay little bags fly up and 
 down. It was a very favourite amusement with 
 all the children. Eliza was with Kenneth, and 
 auntie was lying down, for the poor baby had 
 been wakeful and in much pain the night before, 
 and auntie had had little sleep. 
 
 Nearly an hour slipped by, when suddenly 
 grandma stopped Cricket. 
 
 " How quiet the children are. Are they there 
 still ? " turning to see. Eunice looked up also. 
 
 " Dear me, I have n't thought of them for a 
 long time. They 've slipped off. I suppose 
 I ought to go and see what Zaidee's doing, and 
 tell her she must n't," and Eunice lay down her 
 work. She had had to have much care of the 
 younger ones these last few days. 
 
 " I '11 go, too," said Cricket, getting up gladly. 
 " 'Scuse us, please, grandma, for leaving you all 
 alone." 
 
 Cricket had scarcely ever been ill a day in her 
 life, not even with children's diseases, which she 
 had always escaped, and, in all her adventures, 
 she was very rarely hurt. Therefore, pain was
 
 AFTER THE SACRIFICE. 353 
 
 a very dreadful thing to her. She bore it 
 bravely, but it was strange to see her looking 
 so pale and heavy-eyed. But these few days of 
 suffering were teaching her many things. 
 
 Eunice and Cricket heard the sound of the 
 children's voices as they turned the corner of 
 the house. 
 
 " Oh, they 're all right," said Eunice, relieved. 
 
 Just back of the house, in a tiny little shed, 
 built especially for it, stood a big barrel of kero- 
 sene. It was kept outside, because grandma was 
 very much afraid of the possibility of fire. Once, 
 in an unlucky moment, the waitress, Delia, in 
 drawing the oil into a small can to be carried 
 into the house, had yielded to Zaidee's entreaty, 
 and had let her turn that fascinating little 
 spigot. After that the twins made several 
 private expeditions to the barrel, but as the spigot 
 was kept locked, of course they could not turn 
 it. It chanced that this morning Delia had 
 drawn the oil in a hurry, and had forgotten to 
 turn the catch in the spigot that locked it. 
 
 Zaidee and Helen, prowling around for some- 
 thing to do, chanced to come past the barrel, 
 and Zaidee tried the faucet. To their rapture 
 a spurting stream of oil instantly poured out.
 
 354 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 An old dipper, lying near by, was immediately 
 seized upon, as something to fill, and all the 
 flower beds that were near by were well watered 
 with kerosene. Next, they spied a small churn, 
 which Bridget, the cook, had just put out in the 
 sun to dry. This was an opportunity not to be 
 neglected, and the next dipperful of kerosene 
 went splash into Bridget's clean, white churn. 
 Up and down went the dasher, worked by these 
 eager hands, while, behind them, the kerosene 
 still poured from the barrel. 
 
 " Yes, they 're all right," repeated Eunice. 
 " They 're only working the churn - dasher up 
 and down. Probably Bridget left some water 
 in it to soak." 
 
 " Come over here," called Zaidee, hospitably. 
 
 " We 're making butter, Eunice." 
 
 Eunice drew a little nearer, then, suddenly, 
 she stopped, sniffed, and darted forward. 
 
 " Children, what have you there ? " 
 
 "Caroseme," responded Zaidee, promptly. 
 " We drawed it from the pretty little fountain in 
 the barrel." 
 
 Eunice turned hastily towards the " caroseme " 
 barrel, then flew towards it. As the barrel had 
 been lately filled there was plenty in it, still, and
 
 AFTER THE SACRIFICE. 355 
 
 it was flowing merrily, while a pool of kerosene 
 lay over the board floor. 
 
 " Goodness gracious me ! How shall I ever 
 get in there to turn it off ? " cried Eunice. I 
 can't step in it ? " 
 
 " Let Zaidee do it. She 's soaking already 
 with it. Zaidee, come here, directly, and turn 
 this kerosene off." 
 
 Zaidee came up cheerfully, and waded in, re- 
 gardless of her shoes. 
 
 " It 's too bad to turn it off, when it looks so 
 pretty," she said, regretfully. 
 
 " You are naughty children," said Eunice, 
 severely, arraying the guilty twins before her, 
 when this was done. " Whatever shall I do with 
 you? I can't take you, all dripping like that, 
 into the house to Eliza, because she 's with Ken- 
 neth, and auntie's lying down, and I don't 
 suppose Delia would know what to do with 
 you." 
 
 " Hang them both up over the clothes-line to 
 dry," suggested Cricket, darkly eying the chief 
 culprit. " Dear me ! how you do smell ! " 
 
 " I don't like it pretty well," admitted Zaidee, 
 sniffing at her hands. " I want to go in and get 
 us washed off now."
 
 356 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 " No, stop," commanded Eunice, as Zaidee was 
 starting off. " You would ruin everything you 
 touched, I suppose. You 're reeking wet. You 
 can't go into the nursery, for you must n't dis- 
 turb Kenneth. Auntie said particularly that we 
 must n't even make any noise around, so he can 
 sleep. What shall I do with you ? " 
 
 " I '11 tell you," suggested Cricket, the ever- 
 ready. " Take them down to the Cove and put 
 them in the water just as they are, and wash off 
 the worst of it. Then you can take off their 
 clothes and leave them down there in the bathing- 
 house, for 'Liza to look after when she can." 
 
 " Perhaps that might do. I could put on my 
 own bathing-suit and take them in, and wash off 
 the outside, anyway." 
 
 " Yes, let 's," cried Zaidee, scampering off in 
 high feather at the delightful possibility of going 
 into the water all dressed, " just like a dog." 
 
 " Grandma would n't care, would she ? " 
 
 " There 's nothing else to do. You go on and 
 I '11 tell her. My arm aches so that I can't walk 
 over there," said Cricket, turning away, very dole- 
 fully. She did n't like to miss the fun of ducking 
 those naughty children. She watched them out 
 of sight.
 
 AFTER THE SACRIFICE. 357 
 
 " But it is n't really a bit worse of Zaidee to 
 turn that spigot, and play with the oil, than it 
 was for me to play with the fire," she said, hon- 
 estly, to herself, as she walked slowly back to 
 grandma. " I can't say much. But it is funny 
 how much badder things seem in other people, 
 when they 're really just as worse in our- 
 selves." 
 
 And with this not very lucid statement of an 
 undeniable fact, Cricket walked up the piazza 
 steps and informed grandma of the state of 
 affairs. 
 
 Half an hour later Eunice appeared, driving 
 a pair of depressed looking children before her, 
 clad only in their little blue bathing-suits. 
 
 She was hot and flushed, Zaidee cross and re- 
 bellious, and Helen tearful and subdued. Eunice 
 had found that the plan of washing oily children, 
 with all their clothes on, was much easier in 
 theory than in practice. And such a task as it 
 had been to get their dripping clothes off ! Wet 
 buttonholes refused to open, shoestrings knotted 
 hopelessly, and everything stuck flabbily together. 
 
 Auntie Jean was with little Kenneth again, so 
 Eliza was at liberty to take the children in hand, 
 but before they went off, grandma said, very
 
 358 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 gravely, to them, that they were to go directly to 
 bed for two whole hours, so that they might have 
 a quiet time to think over the mischief they had 
 done.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE END OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 Two weeks later everything was running again 
 as usual. Kenneth, quite recovered, was as 
 lively as possible, though he was a funny look- 
 ing little object, with his lovely golden curls, to 
 everybody's great grief, cropped as close to his 
 head as a prize-fighter's. 
 
 " If it only will grow out a little, before 
 mamma gets home," mourned Cricket. "He 
 looks so ridiculous. He looks just like the 
 sheep, after Gustus John has sheared them. 
 Even the little lambs don't know their own 
 mothers, sometimes, auntie, after they 're 
 clipped. Oh ! " clasping her hands in horror at 
 a new thought. "Do you suppose mamma 
 won't even know Kenneth ? " 
 
 " He does n't look much like himself, cer- 
 tainly, but I don't fancy that there 's the least 
 danger that his mother won't know him instantly," 
 said auntie, comfortingly. 
 
 " I 'm so glad," said Cricket, with a sigh of
 
 360 CKICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 relief, " if you really think so. But, anyway, 
 he 's the sheepiest-looking child." 
 
 But, fortunately, his burns had healed beauti- 
 fully, and the doctor assured them that he would 
 even outgrow every scar. Cricket was entirely 
 herself again, with only one deep scar across 
 her right wrist to remind her of that unlucky 
 sacrifice to the Jabberwock. 
 
 Edna was at home, also, delighted to be back 
 with her beloved Eunice. She proudly flourished, 
 actually, two stories for the " Echo," as the re- 
 sult of her " banishment," as she insisted on 
 calling her visit. She was so proud of them 
 that she wanted to carry them about with her 
 all the time, and was all impatience for the next 
 number of the paper to be ready. Eunice had 
 been working at it, during Edna's absence, and 
 it was all ready, excepting to print Edna's story, 
 for which space had been left. 
 
 It was getting well into September now, and 
 the children were looking eagerly forward to the 
 return of the travellers, who were to sail early 
 in October. Letters said that mamma was im- 
 proving so delightfully that she was quite as 
 strong as ever, and that she was looking for- 
 ward with quite as much impatience to seeing
 
 THE END OF THE SUMMER. 361 
 
 the children again as they could have to see her. 
 The children did n't quite believe this, though. 
 
 " She could n't be glad as I am," said Cricket, 
 positively. " If she were she would just simply 
 burst. Of course we 're gladder to see her than 
 she could be to see us, because she 's mamma, 
 and we 're only just the children ! I 'm chock 
 full of gladness ! " and Cricket gave an ecstatic 
 caper as she waved the letter that definitely set 
 the date of the travellers' return. 
 
 " Look out, Cricket," said Eunice, hastily, 
 " that 's the second time you 've nearly knocked 
 my ink over," rescuing, as she spoke, the 
 fresh, fair copy of the " Echo," to which she was 
 giving the finishing touches, for the afternoon's 
 reading. 
 
 " Please excuse me, but I 'm so happy ! Oh, 
 auntie, it's worth while to have mamma and 
 papa go to Europe and miss them so, when you 
 are so gladder than glad when they come back." 
 
 " Now, I really flattered myself that you had 
 been tolerably contented here, this summer," 
 said Auntie Jean, pretending to look aggrieved. 
 " I 'm very sorry that you 've been so wretched." 
 
 " Wretched ! I have n't" said Cricket, giving 
 auntie a rapturous hug, and, at the same time,
 
 362 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 sending her heels kicking out behind, like a 
 little wild pony. " I 've had an awfully good 
 time." 
 
 " Cricket ! " shrieked Eunice, " you knocked 
 over the ink at last ! " She snatched up the 
 " Echo " just in time to save it from an inky bath. 
 "Hand me that blotter, Edna. Never mind, 
 auntie, for it's mostly on the newspapers. 
 Cricket, you are the ink - spillingest girl ! " 
 scolded Eunice, scrubbing and cleaning as she 
 talked. " Yesterday you knocked it out of the 
 window, and only the other day you had it all 
 over the piazza-floor." 
 
 Cricket looked much depressed, as she helped 
 Eunice repair damages. 
 
 " I rather guess you '11 be too relieved for any- 
 thing to see the last of me, grandma," she said, 
 mournfully. " I never saw anybody like me. 
 I never mean to do things, and then I go and do 
 them. I don't see how you 've stood it all sum- 
 mer, anyway, with such racketting children 
 around, I truly don't." 
 
 "You've been a pretty obedient set," said 
 grandma, patting the hand that stole around her 
 neck. "And when children are obedient and 
 truthful, one can excuse a great deal else. In-
 
 THE END OF THE SUMMER. 363 
 
 deed, I shall miss my flock exceedingly, I assure 
 you, in spite of your ink-spilling tendencies." 
 
 " Even if I did sprain your ankle ? " whispered 
 Cricket, very softly, "and burn up Kenneth's 
 hair ? and break through the plaster in your 
 ceiling, and lots of other things ? " 
 
 " Yes, in spite of it all," whispered grandma, 
 back again, just as softly. " Because I never 
 knew you to do anything I told you not to do, 
 and whatever you tell me, I know is exactly 
 true." 
 
 " You 're such a beautiful grandma ! " said 
 Cricket, with a hug, and then she pranced off. 
 
 Zaidee and Helen came toiling up from the 
 beach, with their arms full of dolls. Zaidee 
 dropped down on the top piazza-step. 
 
 " Auntie Jean, I 'm all in such a pusferation," 
 she sighed. " It 's so much work to take care of 
 such a lot of children as I have. I wish I had 
 a little live nurse to help me. Could n't I ? " 
 
 " Take Cricket," suggested Auntie Jean. " She 
 wants something to do." 
 
 " No, I thank you," said that young woman, 
 decidedly. "I'm glad / don't have to follow 
 Zaidee up all day." 
 
 "And I wouldn't have you," returned Zaidee,
 
 364 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 with equal decision. " You tooked up my Bea- 
 trice by the neck, and it hurted her. She told 
 me so. I don't want you for my dollie's nurse, 
 or for my nurse, either." 
 
 " Your nurse ! " exclaimed Cricket. " I 
 wouldn't be 'Liza for anything! I'd as soon 
 take care of a straw in a high wind, as take care 
 of you." 
 
 Auntie Jean laughed, and drew Cricket down 
 into her arms. 
 
 . " Did you ever think, honestly," she whis- 
 pered, " that Zaidee is a little, just a little, like 
 one of her older sisters?" 
 
 " Oh, she 's not so bad," responded Cricket, 
 instantly. " But because she 's like me is no 
 reason I like it any better. I like it all the 
 worse. Besides, I don't set up to be a polygon." 
 
 Hereupon Auntie Jean laughed until grandma 
 demanded to know what the joke was, and why 
 they were talking secrets. 
 
 " No secrets," answered auntie, wiping her 
 eyes. " Cricket was only telling me that she 
 did n't set up to be a paragon." 
 
 Cricket flashed a quick glance at auntie, 
 caught her eye, and nodded her thanks. 
 
 "There's George Washington," she hastily
 
 THE END OP THE SUMMER. 365 
 
 remarked, changing the subject. " Come here, 
 sir, and play a little. You 've been as sober as 
 a judge lately. I haven't seen you run after 
 Martha for perfect ages." 
 
 The September days slipped by, until the first 
 of October was just at hand. It was arranged 
 that Auntie Jean should go and get the house 
 in town in readiness for the family's return. 
 At first she expected to go alone, but the girls 
 begged to go with her, and finally she concluded 
 to take them. 
 
 Will and Archie had already gone back to 
 Philadelphia, on account of their school, so this 
 arrangement would only leave the younger ones 
 and Eliza with grandma for a few days longer. 
 
 Then, oh, joy ! that blessed Auntie Jean fur- 
 ther decided that she would take them all down 
 to New York the day before the steamer was due, 
 so that they might have the earliest possible 
 glimpse of the family. Was not all this enough 
 to fill any little girl's cup of bliss to overflowing ? 
 
 For once, reality surpassed anticipation. Such 
 excitement for the last week in packing up ; 
 such walks and rows and drives between times ; 
 such a fine number of the " Echo," to wind up 
 with ; such a funny farewell call laden with all
 
 366 CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 manner of good things to the old woman, who 
 was still overcome by the thought that she had 
 seen Miss Cricket ; then such parting hugs and 
 kisses for dear grandma and the children ; such 
 hand-shakings with old Billy, who distributed 
 peppermints like a red and white snow. 
 
 Then came the jolly three days' picnic in the 
 empty house in town. The three girls thought 
 that they rendered perfectly indispensable aid to 
 auntie and the maids, in opening the house, get- 
 ting off holland covers, and arranging everything, 
 till it was all in apple-pie order for the home- 
 comers. 
 
 Then came the last and loveliest treat, the 
 delightful trip to New York in the night boat, 
 and the vast importance of the thought of going 
 to meet their European travellers. They dis- 
 cussed them, as if they had been gone ten years, 
 at least. Eunice wondered if she would know 
 Marjorie, and if Donald's mustache would be as 
 long as papa's, while Cricket was a little afraid 
 that they might have forgotten how to talk 
 English. 
 
 The steamer was not due till late in the after- 
 noon, so that they had the day before them, and 
 a day crammed with good things it was. Al-
 
 THE END OF THE SUMMER. 367 
 
 though they had often been there before, the 
 children immediately voted for Central Park and 
 the Metropolitan Museum first. Then they 
 visited some of the great stores, and then lunched 
 at Delmonico's. In the afternoon they went for 
 a long, lovely ride up Riverside Park, and then, 
 at last, came the crowning joy of watching the 
 steamer's arrival. 
 
 " There 's mamma ! " shrieked Cricket, regard- 
 less of the crowd about her, as the great steamer 
 swung into her moorings, and in five minutes 
 more everybody was being rapturously hugged 
 by everybody else. 
 
 THE END.

 
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