Part 7

They ran out to the sand-pile, looked at the pretty shells, took a slide or two and a few swings in the big swing and made friends with the two children, a boy and a girl from Springfield, Massachusetts, who were playing there, and, in a very short while it seemed, the gong sounded and they went in to supper.

It was a different sort of a supper from any Mary Jane had ever eaten away at a hotel--though as a matter of fact the Willow Tree Cottage wasn't really a hotel at all; it was an old New England farmhouse enlarged a bit and opened to some twenty-five selected boarders through the summer season. And this meal truly was not a dinner such as Mary Jane was used to eating in the evening; it was a real supper, delicious and old fashioned as one could hope to find. There was coffee cake, fresh baked and luscious with great "wells" of sugar and butter running through in streaks of sweetness; baked beans in brown pots; cold ham, coldslaw with a sour cream sauce, and hot potatoes with cream gravy. And then, after each table full of guests were seated and the meal began, Mrs. Bryan herself (she would trust this task to no one else) appeared with a great platter of lobsters, red and shining and smelling oh, so good!

Mary Jane helped herself very daintily but Mrs. Bryan said, "Here, honey, that's no way to eat at my house! You take a big helping and then pass up! There's three more platterfuls like this out on the kitchen table!" The girls needed no second urging; they liked lobster, but as they polished off claw after claw, they agreed that never _never_ had they eaten lobster before--not really truly lobster as this luscious food proved to be.

As the maid appeared to ask what dessert they wanted, Mrs. Merrill said, "Do you want any dessert, girls? You've had such a good supper already."

"Why mother!" exclaimed Mary Jane, "we _were hungry_!" And then as the maid said, "Huckleberry shortcake and apple pie" (meaning of course that Mary Jane should take her choice), Mary Jane, not understanding, replied blissfully, "I like 'em both, thank you!"

"Bless her heart!" laughed Mrs. Bryan, "she shall have 'em both, Ann. You bring the girls each a helping of pie and shortcake--it's not too rich, it won't hurt 'em for once," she added as she saw Mrs. Merrill starting to object, "remember how you used to eat two helpings of dessert and how _you_ made your dear father so ashamed!" Mrs. Merrill and the good lady laughed in recollection--and the girls had their double dessert.

In the long twilight the Merrills took a leisurely walk through the pine tree grove off toward the south of the cottage and home along the rocks by the ocean. By the time they turned toward home the sun had set in rosy glory and through the gathering shadows could be seen the gleam of lights in lighthouses near and far. 'Way down the coast on some jutting rocks, still farther down on an out-reaching promontory, straight off to the northeast on the Isle of Shoals and away toward the north was the Portsmouth Light. Some lights burned steadily, red or white; some flashed on and off as though making a signal. Mrs. Merrill explained that each different location had its own light and method of burning it, so that a pilot, out in the ocean when he saw a light burning red, white, red white, could look on the chart and see just where that light belonged; and then, when he saw one burning white, white, red, he could look again and see where that one was.

The girls loved to watch the lights and to listen to the pound of the waves on the rocks near by. They would have liked to stay and watch a long time, but Mrs. Merrill led them back toward the cottage by dark and, to tell the truth, beds didn't feel so very bad after such a big day and, soon after the stars peeped out, two tired travelers were sound asleep.

Sunday morning the girls slept late and almost missed breakfast; then after a short walk to the beach they slipped on fresh frocks and went with Mrs. Merrill to a quaint little church about a mile away. The walk there was charming, past the biggest hotel they had seen the night before, along the beach, through a wood and to the edge of a meadow where the little church, all vine-covered and rose-laden, came to view.

After dinner at noon, the girls sat on the beach a long time, watching the tide and talking over the good times they had had and were going to have. They persuaded their mother that because the water was too cold for bathing that day, they ought to stay over till afternoon of Monday so that they might have a chance to bathe in the ocean.

"We'll do better than that," decided Mrs. Merrill, when she saw how the girls were enjoying the sea air and the quiet, "I'll wire Hal and we'll stay till afternoon Tuesday. That will give him time to finish his visit leisurely and we will still have all of Wednesday in Boston and you may go in bathing twice--if the water isn't too terribly cold."

"I'm a-going in to-morrow even if it's freezing!" said Mary Jane.

"So'm I," agreed Alice, "we're not afraid of cold and it's such fun to jump in those big waves!" But they little guessed what was really going to happen when they went in bathing in that heavy surf!

The next morning, promptly at eleven, the whistle on the bathhouse blew 5-8.

"Fifty-eight," said Mrs. Merrill thoughtfully, "that's pretty cold, girlies."

"Oh, we don't mind," Alice assured her. "The sun's good and hot and if the water seems cold we don't need to stay in long--we can come out and sit in the hot sand."

So they took their suits and walked down to the bathhouse.

The tide was high that morning and the beach was narrow because the great waves washed up, higher and higher. Heavy posts driven into the bed of the ocean supported great ropes stretched where folks would want to stand in the waves, and if one watched and went out between waves and then held tightly to the rope while a wave broke over, there wasn't a fraction as much real danger as there appeared to be from the noise and foam. Mrs. Merrill, grasping a hand of each girl, made a quick dash for the nearest rope and warned them to hold fast when the big wave came. Alice could manage herself very well, as she had a good strong grip and people were round about near to lend a hand if a wave should make her lose her footing for a second, but Mrs. Merrill held tightly to Mary Jane and together they jumped through the waves as the foamy crests of cold water broke just over them.

"Burr, it _is_ cold, isn't it!" said Mary Jane gayly as she shook the salt water out of her eyes.

"Plenty cold and you're getting blue," replied Mrs. Merrill with a keen look at her little girl. "Let's go up and sit in the warm sand for a while. Alice, you come up the line, here, nearer to shore, and then as soon as I get Mary Jane settled in the sand snug and warm, I'll come back and take you out farther."

Left by herself a few minutes later, Mary Jane dug herself into the sand and buried her feet, her legs, and tossed the sand over her chest. Then, tiring of that amusement, she shook herself free of the sand, stood up and looked around and--but--after that nobody seemed to know just what Mary Jane did do.

Ten minutes after she left her so comfortably settled with her play, Mrs. Merrill and Alice, flushed and laughing with their fun in the waves, ran up the beach to where Mary Jane had been playing. But no Mary Jane was there to greet them!

Quickly Mrs. Merrill looked over the many bathers along the edge of the waves--there was no little girl with bobbed brown hair. Hurriedly she ran and questioned the life-guard; no, he hadn't seen any little girl in a blue and white suit.

The word passed along from one person to another but not a soul could tell where the little girl was. Several had seen her playing and watching her mother and sister but no one had seen her get up and go away.

There was lost, one Mary Jane; and a distracted mother and sister together with a beach full of interested people started on a hunt for the missing child.

*TEA ON THE TERRACE*

Questions and answers flew thick and fast as, one after another, the many bathers at Rye Beach learned that a little girl was lost.

"Are you sure she didn't follow you and go into the water?" asked one.

"Awful undertow," whispered another, "if she lost her footing even near the shore--" but Mrs. Merrill turned away so as not to hear any more.

"Maybe she went up the beach a way," suggested another.

"We looked up there first thing," was the reply.

"I don't know what to think," cried Mrs. Merrill in distraction as the police officer questioned her. "Mary Jane never ran away and I feel sure she wouldn't now. I don't think she would disobey me and go into the water--and yet, where is she?"

Alice, poor child, forgot about being wet, and ran up and down the beach, hunting and calling her sister.

At last, when there seemed nothing else to do, the officer said, "I am sorry to say, madam, that it looks very much as though--" but he never finished his sentence. For at that minute Mary Jane's voice close by her mother said, "Look, Mother, what I got for you! And there are a lot more too so Alice can pick some."

There stood Mary Jane, rosy and dry from the warm sun, her hand full of wild flowers she had picked--somewhere.

Mrs. Merrill gathered her up in her arms and hugged her so tight Mary Jane thought she never would get her breath again, then, when she could talk, she asked, "My dear child! Where _were_ you? We've hunted and hunted!"

"Why I was right there," answered Mary Jane, much surprised that they should have been anxious. "I stood up to shake off the sand and I saw some wild flowers back there--see 'em?" she added, pointing to the end of the bath-houses where some sand flowers bloomed on a low lying sand hill back of the beach. "And I thought, 'now I'll just get some of those and see if Alice wants 'em for her collection.' So I ran up there and there were so _many_--see how many kinds? And--that's all! I just picked 'em and then here I am!"

Mrs. Merrill thanked all the kind people who had helped hunt for Mary Jane and made a firm resolve (which she likely as not wouldn't keep) that next time Mary Jane was "lost" she would sit still and wait for the child to come back by herself.

For an hour Mary Jane played on the sand. They dug ditches, they "buried" each other and their mother, and finally they shook off the sand and ran to the beach for a final plunge before leaving. After they were dressed, Mary Jane led them up to the sand hill where she had found the flowers, and Alice picked a bloom or two of each kind to press and add to her collection.

Dinner never did taste so good as it did that day--surf bathing certainly makes girls hungry and they both enjoyed every bite of the good food Mrs. Bryan set before them.

"Now I think we'll all take a rest for an hour," suggested Mrs. Merrill, "and then, with some folks I met before you girlies woke up this morning, we'll drive to Portsmouth so you can see the harbor and the beautiful drive along the shore."

Promptly at three o'clock they set out, and Mary Jane thought it would take a whole book to tell all the beautiful and wonderful things they saw on that drive. The pine woods that smelled so sweet and good, the rolling golf links here and there, the glimpses of the Isle of Shoals that seemed no distance away, so clear was the air in the afternoon sunshine.

"I 'most could reach out and touch 'em!" exclaimed Mary Jane once, and it was hard to believe that the picturesque group of islands were miles away, out in the ocean.

The river at Portsmouth, dotted with boats, big and little, the view across into the state of Maine, and the beautiful grounds of a great hotel set high on the bluff overlooking the ocean, all seemed very wonderful. Everywhere were lovely gardens brilliant with bloom and grass so green and fresh, Mary Jane declared it made her want to get out and feel it, for it looked like soft velvet.

At Portsmouth they stopped at an old curiosity shop and bought an old-fashioned "knocker" for a souvenir of the drive.

"We'll put it on the door to your room," said Mrs. Merrill, "and then, when you shut the door, folks can knock before they come in. And every time you look at it, you will think of your trip to Rye Beach and to Portsmouth."

The next morning the Merrills took their ocean dip early, as they had decided to get to Boston in the afternoon instead of evening. The water was "freezing" cold, but the sun was good and warm and the dip was most refreshing as well as lots of fun.

It wasn't easy to leave Rye Beach. There was so much to do that would be fun, and so many nice people to meet and such good things to eat, that Mary Jane had to think hard about her father off home alone to make herself willing to leave so soon. But once away, she was quite happy, especially when she found that they could have their luncheon in a diner--Mary Jane would go anywhere--almost--to eat on a train!

Uncle Hal met them at the station in Boston and his smiling face assured them a surprise was in store.

"Too tired riding to do a little more?" he asked, as they walked out of the great station.

"Well," asked Mary Jane determined not to be tricked into anything, "is it a nice thing we would do, if we weren't too tired to do it?"

"_Very_ nice, I'd say, my young lady," replied Uncle Hal.

"Then I'm not a bit tired," Mary Jane assured him.

It was a good thing that was her answer, for the surprise was ready and waiting at the station door.

"This is my sister and her two daughters, Miss Burn," said Hal as he stepped up to a waiting car, "and they say they will enjoy the ride you so kindly planned for them." Miss Burn was a charming young lady with whom Mary Jane and Alice promptly made friends, and her car was a beautiful big touring car in which the Merrills were whisked away before they quite realized what had happened to them.

Through the parks of Boston they went, out the boulevards along the north shore where the roadway borders the ocean for miles and miles. Beautiful homes flashed passed them, parks, suburbs, playgrounds, amusement places--all like a wonderful living moving picture show. Mary Jane was interested in the great shoe factories they passed in Lynn and she tried to peek into the windows and see which factory made shoes for little girls her age. Rows and rows of red brick buildings--all shoe factories Uncle Hal told her--seemed enough to make shoes for everybody in the whole country!

On they went till they could see the houses on Marblehead and the famous Marblehead lighthouse that can be seen from such a distance at night, then, back they went, mostly over a different route, toward Boston.

"Couldn't you stop at our house for a cup of tea?" invited Miss Burn, "mother would love to meet you but she didn't feel up to a ride to-day."

Mrs. Merrill said they had nothing to hurry them, so Miss Burn drove them to her pretty home on one of the tree-covered streets in Winchester.

"We'll go through the house," said Miss Burn as they left the car, "but I want you two girls to go to the garden. You'll like to see my pet goldfishes."

"Pet goldfishes!" exclaimed Mary Jane, "do you keep 'em in a bowl?"

"Wait a minute, and I'll show you where I keep them," replied Miss Burn, and she led them through the hallway of her beautiful home and out, through French doors, into the loveliest garden the girls had ever seen. It was in the middle of the house--almost--for the house went around three sides. French doors opened from the hallway, on the north, from the dining-room on the east, and from a long, low library living-room on the west, while on the south side a rose covered pergola connected the ends of the house making the garden appear to be surrounded with the house. The edge of the garden, near the house, was filled with bay trees, privet and vining roses, next, on a lower terrace, were flowers with brilliant bloom, hollyhocks, delphiniums and marigolds, while around the fountain in the center was a great bed of gorgeous roses making a mass of fragrant bloom.

"Oh!" cried Alice, "think of living here!"

"It's like a palace!" echoed Mary Jane.

"I thought you'd like it," said Miss Burn, much pleased with their frank enjoyment, "we love it. I do a lot of the work in the garden myself. I love the flowers so, and mother and I would rather be out here than anywhere else in the world."

She led them over dainty gravel paths to the center of the garden where, peering into the white fountain, the girls saw dozens of goldfish swimming about in the sunshine.

"See?" said Miss Burn, pointing into the water, "I have one silver fish--that's for luck they say," she added laughingly. "Don't you think it's better to have fish here than in a bowl on a table?"

"I think everything's better here--if you have a 'here' like this," agreed Alice. "I suppose Mary Jane feels like a princess again, now. She always feels that way when she sees something wonderful."

"'Deed I do," admitted Mary Jane who had been too busy looking around and pretending that all this was her own private palace, to talk with mere folks! "I love it here!"

"Let's go over and meet mother," suggested Miss Burn, "and see if tea is ready. Then you may walk around the garden all you like and pick as many flowers as you want to."

They found Mrs. Burn waiting for them under the rose-covered terrace, and tea was all ready but the hot water which came in a few minutes. Mary Jane was very glad that the grown folks were too busy talking to count the number of lobster salad sandwiches she ate--they were so good--even better than the nut sandwiches which were usually her favorites. After tea, the girls wandered up and down the little paths in the garden and picked a few flowers; not many, for the flowers looked so lovely there that it seemed a shame to take them away.

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Mary Jane later as she saw her mother rise to go, "now it's going to be late and we'll have to go and--and I'd just love to stay in this garden forever and ever! I would!"

"I wish you could, dear," said Mrs. Burn, "because I like to have little girls around me--especially little girls who love flowers as you two do. But I'll tell you," she added comfortingly, "you've found the way out here now and the next time you come to Boston, which will be some time soon, let's hope, you come and see me the very first day and stay as long as ever you can."

Mary Jane promised and then she took a last glimpse at the fountain of goldfish before Miss Burn took them back to Boston and their hotel.

"When I have a house," she said as she dropped off to sleep that evening, "I'm going to have a garden just like Miss Burn's with goldfish and one silver fish and tea and lobster salad sandwiches and everything!"

*THE LAST DAY IN BOSTON--AND HOME*

The last morning in Boston! Mary Jane blinked at the bright sunshine that streamed in at the window and asked sleepily, "What are we going to do to-day, Mother?"

"_Mother!_" exclaimed Alice, suddenly wide awake, "we forgot to go to Concord! And my teacher told me surely, surely we must take that ride up through Sleepy Hollow and Concord."

"Don't you worry a minute, dear," said Mrs. Merrill, "I'm as anxious to take that ride as you are. In fact I had Hal get the seats in the automobile yesterday evening, so there would be no doubt about our being able to go this morning. I've never taken it either, you know, so we'll be seeing things together. Now everybody up and see who can beat getting dressed and ready for breakfast."

When they stepped up to the big sightseeing car, an hour and a half later, they found that Uncle Hal had bought their seats for the front row which pleased them very much. Mary Jane liked to see things without dodging the head of somebody in front, and Alice and Mrs. Merrill liked to be close to the man who tells about the historic scenes on the way, so they could ask questions and could hear everything that was said.

The car soon filled up with interested sightseers and the journey was begun.

Alice eagerly listened to all that was told and fitted it into what she knew of early American history. The old church where the lights were hung to give the signal to Paul Revere; the road he dashed across on his long journey--marked now, by a big bronze tablet which the girls got out of the car to read; the "green" where one of the early battles was fought--Alice had read all the stories and seemed to live over the scenes as she saw the famous sites.

Of course Mary Jane didn't know as much history as her sister did, but she knew something of the historical stories, as all American girls should even if they are only in first grade, and she learned more history in that two hours of riding than she would have learned in a month of reading. It didn't seem like history out of a book, it seemed like really truly--as it was.

The car turned down a long, shady road and came to a stop by a tiny wooden bridge.

"There," said the driver, "is the Concord bridge and you may get out and walk across if you like. There's no hurry."

"The Concord bridge?" exclaimed Alice, "why I thought it was a _big_ bridge--I've heard so much about it."

"Size doesn't count for everything," laughed the driver; "it's what happens that counts."

They climbed out of the automobile and walked across the tiny bridge. It was a low, wooden foot bridge, so narrow that one had to walk carefully to pass anybody coming from the other direction. On one side was a hand rail, on the other nothing but the clear water of the little creek so close below.

The girls stood in the center of the bridge and Mrs. Merrill took their picture so Alice could show it to her teacher at school, then they sat down in the shade close by and Mrs. Merrill told Mary Jane the story that made that little bridge so famous; how the brave farmers stood there waiting--right there on the spot Mary Jane could see; how the Redcoats crept up through the darkness to the very tree (no doubt it was the very tree for its wide spreading branches and great trunk told of its old age), the very tree under which they were sitting, and then there was fired the shot "for freedom," the shot which the poet said was "heard 'round the world."

Reluctantly leaving the interesting spot that charmed them so, the Merrills climbed back into the big auto and drove away; through Concord, through Sleepy Hollow and to the house where Louisa M. Alcott had lived. There Mary Jane felt at home immediately. She saw the lilac bushes, the old trees and the quaint old house she had heard about. They went through the rooms, upstairs and down, and saw the very books and dishes and kettles and clothes that the girls in Miss Alcott's story had used and worn.

"Why they were just regular girls like we are, weren't they, Mother?" she exclaimed in surprise. "And they didn't know they were going to be in a story and everybody read about them, did they?"

"To be sure," said Mrs. Merrill, "and that's what makes them so interesting. They did all the things that real folks do, and we like to hear about such things in books."

"Wouldn't it be funny if we'd get into a story book," said Mary Jane, laughing at the ridiculous idea, "and somebody'd read about how we came to see Miss Alcott's house? I'd laugh if we did!"

"Well, you never can tell what'll happen," said Alice as they wandered out through the yard. "I expect Meg and Beth never thought of being in a book either. I wonder if they picked roses from this same old bush?" she added as she looked at a rose-bush that rambled high overhead, "it looks old enough to have been here then."