rows around the supper table. You could tell them apart on this
occasion, because they all had their faces washed. And this is the
time to count them: there are twelve little Wilners at table.

I managed to retain my identity in this multitude somehow, and while I
was very much impressed with their numbers, I even dared to pick and
choose my friends among the Wilners. One or two of the smaller boys I
liked best of all, for a game of hide-and-seek or a frolic on the
beach. We played in the water like ducks, never taking the trouble to
get dry. One day I waded out with one of the boys, to see which of us
dared go farthest. The tide was extremely low, and we had not wet our
knees when we began to look back to see if familiar objects were still
in sight. I thought we had been wading for hours, and still the water
was so shallow and quiet. My companion was marching straight ahead, so
I did the same. Suddenly a swell lifted us almost off our feet, and we
clutched at each other simultaneously. There was a lesser swell, and
little waves began to run, and a sigh went up from the sea. The tide
was turning--perhaps a storm was on the way--and we were miles,
dreadful miles from dry land.

Boy and girl turned without a word, four determined bare legs
ploughing through the water, four scared eyes straining toward the
land. Through an eternity of toil and fear they kept dumbly on, death
at their heels, pride still in their hearts. At last they reach
high-water mark--six hours before full tide.

Each has seen the other afraid, and each rejoices in the knowledge.
But only the boy is sure of his tongue.

"You was scared, warn't you?" he taunts.

The girl understands so much, and is able to reply:--

"You can schwimmen, I not."

"Betcher life I can schwimmen," the other mocks.

And the girl walks off, angry and hurt.

"An' I can walk on my hands," the tormentor calls after her. "Say, you
greenhorn, why don'tcher look?"

The girl keeps straight on, vowing that she would never walk with that
rude boy again, neither by land nor sea, not even though the waters
should part at his bidding.

I am forgetting the more serious business which had brought us to
Crescent Beach. While we children disported ourselves like mermaids
and mermen in the surf, our respective fathers dispensed cold
lemonade, hot peanuts, and pink popcorn, and piled up our respective
fortunes, nickel by nickel, penny by penny. I was very proud of my
connection wi