Wecanicut. When you're standing on the very end you might think you
really were on a deserted island, because you can look straight out
to sea.

We cut back cross-country through the bay-bushes and the dry, tickly
grass to our usual part of Wecanicut, where the grown-ups were just
beginning to collect the baskets and things and to look at their
watches. We posted the letter on the way home, and Greg jiggled the
flap of the letter-box twice to make sure that it wasn't stuck.

It was that week that Jerry sprained his ankle jumping off the
porch-roof and had to sit in the big wicker chair with his foot on a
pillow for days. He hated it, but he didn't make any fuss at all,
which was decent of him considering that the weather was the best
we'd had all summer. We played chess, which he likes because he can
always beat me, and also "Pounce," which pulls your eyes out after a
little while and burns holes in your brain. It's that frightful card
game where you try to get rid of thirteen cards before any one else,
and snatch at aces in the middle, on top of everybody. Jerry is
horribly clever at it and shouts "Pounce!" first almost every time.
Greg always has at least twelve of his thirteen cards left and
explains to you very carefully how he had it all planned very far
ahead and would have won if Jerry hadn't said "Pounce" so soon.

Also, Father let Jerry play the 'cello, and he made heavenly hideous
sounds which he said were exactly like what the Sea Monster's voice
would be if it had one. Just when we were all rather despairing,
because Dr. Topham said that Jerry mustn't walk for two days more,
the very thing happened which we'd been hoping for. Greg came up all
the porch steps at once with one bounce, brandishing a square