ve just been dreaming."

They plunged again in the water, and side by side swam far out from the
shore, circled gracefully and returned.

Hours they spent snuggling in the warm sand. Not a sound of the world
beyond the bay broke the stillness. The music of the water's soft
sighing came on their ears in sweet, endless cadence. The wind was
gentle and brushed their cheeks with the softest caress. Far out at sea,
white-winged sails were spread--so far away they seemed to stand in one
spot forever. The deep cry of an ocean steamer broke the stillness at
last.

"We must dress for dinner, Jim!" she sighed.

"Why, Kiddo?"

"We must eat, you know."

"But why dress? I like that style on you. It's too much trouble to
dress."

"All right!" she cried gayly. "We'll have a little informal dinner this
evening. I love to feel the sand under my feet."

He gathered the wood from the dry drifts above the waterline and kindled
a fire. The salt-soaked sticks burned fiercely, and the dinner was
cooked in a jiffy--a fresh chicken he had bought, sweet potatoes, and
delicious buttered toast.

They sat in their bathing suits on camp-stools beside the folding table
and ate by moonlight.

The dinner finished, Mary cleared the wooden dishes while Jim brought
heaps of the dry, spongy sea grass and made a bed in the tent. He piled
it two feet high, packed it down to a foot, and then spread the sheets
and blankets.

"All ready for a stroll down the avenue, Kiddo?" he called from the
door.

"Fifth Avenue or Broadway?" she laughed.

"Oh, the Great White Way--you couldn't miss it! Just look at the shimmer
of the moon on the sands! Ain't it great?"

Hand in hand, they strolled on the beach and bathed in the silent flood
of the moonlit night--no prying eyes near save the stars of the friendly
southern skies.

"The moon seems different down here, Jim!" she whispered.

"It is different," he answered with boyish enthusiasm. "It's all so
still and white!"

"Could we stay here forever?"

He shook his head emphatically.

"Not on your life. This little boy has to work, you know. Old man John
D. Rockefeller might, but it's early for a young financier to retire."

"A whole week, then?"

"Sure! For a week we'll forget New York."

They sat down on the sand-dune behind the tent and watched the waters
flash in the silvery light, the world and its fevered life forgotten.

"You're the only thing real tonight, Jim!" she sighed.

"And you'