en one is at the
sea-shore. You never knew such times as we are having all day long. I
must tell you, first of all, of an adventure that befell me
yesterday--not _me_ exactly, either; it _most_ befell Lucille, the
beautiful Paris doll that Fanny Bell was so proud of; and well she might
be, for a handsomer creature never walked. You remember her, of course;
the lovely Mademoiselle Lucille, as she was called, that being the
French for Miss, for it would never do to call her plain Lucille, such a
fine young lady as she was, just from France, with all the airs and
graces that belong to Paris, the politest city in the world. It's no
great wonder she was proud--Lucille, I mean--for I'm afraid most of us
would be if we looked like her. Such hair as she had, all natural curls
down below her waist; and such a _nelegant_ wardrobe, or "trooso," as
Fanny calls it. Perhaps I haven't spelled trooso right, but please
excuse it; indeed, _you_ wouldn't know whether it was right or wrong,
you are such a poor little ignorant thing. I'm ashamed of myself for
neglecting your education as I have done, when I see the dolls here, and
realize how much they know. Just as soon as I get home, we'll begin with
regular lessons every day. It isn't _your_ fault, you sweet lamb, that
you don't know anything. _I_ am the only one to blame, and I'll try to
make up for lost time when I come home.

But, dear me, how I do run on, without telling you a word of the
adventure. The "sad sea waves" put all sorts of ideas into my mind, and
I get terribly confused. I heard a lady sing last night about the "sad
sea waves," and I think it sounds prettier than "the ocean"--don't you?
Well, to begin at the beginning: Yesterday morning Fanny Bell, Dora
Mason, and I went down to the beach as usual, Mademoiselle Lucille
walking along by her mamma, just like a real live beautiful child. We
scooped holes in the warm sand, and made caves, and then we built the
Pyramids. _They_ are in Egypt, you know, curiosities that people go to
see; but we make them of sand, so they look just exactly like the
pictures, "Sfinks" and all. Perhaps you don't know what the "Sfinks" is,
but I will tell you some day, when I begin your education, my poor
Clytemnestra.

Well, at last we wanted to go round the point to pick some wild
morning-glories, so we sat Lucille up on a kind of throne behind the
Pyramids, and left her. We were only gone a little bit of a while, but
what do you think? when we