es came up all over the lawn. We go in bathing
every day that the ocean is smooth enough, all but Aunt Daisy. She is
afraid of the big waves, but papa says she wouldn't be if she would only
make up her mind to go in once. On the other side of the house is the
Shrewsbury River, and that is very nice too. All the Rossiters came up
to spend the day last Saturday, and papa took us crabbing. I caught
three, and we had them for luncheon. There is an old boat fastened to
our dock. It hasn't any oars, or rudder, or anything, but it's splendid
to play shipwreck in.

"I see the Randalls almost every day. The house where they are boarding
is only a little way from our cottage. Jack looks ever so much better
than when he came, and papa says the sea air is making him stronger
every day. He can stand all by himself now, and walk a little with his
crutches. Papa thinks by the autumn he will be able to walk as well as
anybody. Mamma has given him a go-cart, and Betty and I push him about
in it. We all go down to the beach, and when we have made a nice seat in
the sand for Jack, he gets out of the go-cart and sits there. I like
Betty and Jack ever so much, and mamma likes to have me play with them.

"Mrs. Randall has a good many pupils already, and mamma thinks she will
have more by and by, when all the summer people get here. Aunt Daisy is
taking music lessons from her, and says she is the best teacher she ever
had. She plays beautifully too. Mamma had her come over and play for
some people the other day, and they all enjoyed it very much.

"I am having a lovely time, but I do miss you very much. Can't you
really come and make me a visit? Mamma and Aunt Daisy would love to have
you, and there are two beds in my room. I should be so very, very happy
if you would only come.

"My hand is getting tired, so I shall have to stop.

"Betty and Jack send their love, and say they would love it if you would
come. Please answer this letter right away, and believe me, with lots of
love and kisses,

"Your true friend,
"Louise M. Bell."

"That's a lovely letter," said Winifred in a tone of profound
admiration. "Lulu writes beautifully, don't you think so, mother?"

"She certainly expresses herself very well," said Mrs. Hamilton,
smiling.

"She writes stories too," Winifred went on, putting her letter carefully
back into the envelope; "she intends to be an authoress when she grows
up. She did think once that she would be a missionar