As soon as the boat grates on the shallows, two small bare-legged
urchins rush forward to help Miss Jocelyn to land. But Bee, active and
fearless, needs no aid at all, and reaches the pebbled beach with a
light spring.

"Is tea nearly ready, Bob?" she asks, addressing the elder lad, who
grins with delight from ear to ear.

"Yes, miss."

"And has your mother got an immense lobster, and a big crab, and heaps
of prawns?"

"Yes, miss; whoppers, all of 'em."

"That's right; the sea does give us such appetites, doesn't it, Empey? I
hope the others will be here soon."

"If they don't make haste they'll find only the shell of the lobster,"
he answers, joining her on the shore. "I shall never be able to control
myself if I take one look at him!"

"Then don't look at him, greedy!" she cries, clapping her hands, and
dancing round and round him, while the fisherman's children stare at her
wonderful golden locks. "I didn't forget your weakness for lobster; Aunt
Hetty said I might arrange it all; and we shall have a splendid tea!"

He looks at her with his quiet smile, half amused, wholly loving.

"Don't be whirling like a Dervish, and making yourself too hot to eat
anything," he says, putting a stop to her evolutions. "Let's saunter
along the beach, and sit down a bit, my Queen Bee."

It is a bright, glistening beach, strewn with many-coloured pebbles and
stones, brown, yellow, purple, crimson, and snow-white; there are empty
shells in abundance, out of which charming pincushions can be
constructed by skilful fingers; and, best of all, there are little heaps
of delicate sea-weed, capable of being pressed out into tiny tree-like
forms of coral-pink. Altogether, this strip of shore is a very treasury
for children, and Bee can never come here without wanting to load her
own pockets and everybody else's with heavy spoils.

Claude, who has already been presented with seven shell pincushions, a
polished pebble, and three copy-books filled with gummed sea-weed, does
not care to add to this valuable collection of marine treasures. He
arrests the little hand that is making a grasp at a clam, and says
persuasively, "Stop till we come here again, Bee; don't pick up things
this afternoon. It's so jolly to loaf about and do nothing, you know."

She obeys, after casting one regretful glance at that fascinating
scalloped shell; and they stroll on in placid contentment. From this
part of the coast they get a wide ocean outlook, a