er, she was never willing to join in any game unless it
was very exciting.

Several games were suggested by Rose and Polly, but to all Gwen shook
her head, and refused to play either one of them.

One she thought too stupid, another she declared that she had never
liked, and, yet another was "awfully dull" she said.

At last Rose lost patience.

"What _will_ you play?" she asked sharply, her cheeks flushing.

"Oh, I don't know," Gwen replied carelessly. "I guess I won't play at
all, anyway not with you two. I'll run back and find Max Deland. He's
good fun, and he'll surely be able to think of something I'll like to
play. He most always does, and I like him because he is wide awake.
Good-bye!" and she was off like a flash down the beach.

CHAPTER VIII

AUNT ROSE CALLS

There had been many sunny days with blue skies, and never a cloud in
sight, when one day, to the surprise of everyone, the sky appeared to
be a solid mass of dark, leaden clouds, and the sea that for such a
long time had been glistening and sparkling, now showed only a dark
sullen surface, with here and there a whitecap to break its monotony.

Rose and Polly had decided to remain indoors, and all the afternoon
they had been busy sorting the shells that they had been collecting.

"I wish I had more of these," said Polly, pointing to a little heap of
oddly shaped shells, white in color, with here and there markings of
soft brown.

"I wish so too," Rose said. "We've less of that kind than we have of
any of the others. I wonder how it happened that we didn't get more of
those?"

"I don't know, but if it is pleasant to-morrow, let's hunt for some,"
said Polly.

Mrs. Sherwood called, and Polly putting the tray full of shells upon
the table, went out across the hall to reply.

Rose hurried down stairs to the hall, out onto the piazza, along the
flower bordered path to the gate, then out and off down the beach.

Polly never liked to be out when the sky was cloudy and the wind raw,
but Rose cared not a bit, and she had gone out thinking to give Polly
a surprise.

She meant to find some of the coveted shells, and run home with them
before Polly should have missed her.

She looked back at the Sherwood cottage. How pretty it was, and quite
like a country house with its well kept lawn, its flowers in the
gardens, and even at the gate, a rose vine clambering over.

Swiftly she ran along the beach to a spot where usually they had found
the