"Oh, that's so; I forgot the ocean! Come on, Father, let's go and look
at it."

So the three went down to the beach, and Marjorie, who hadn't been to
the seashore since she was a small child, plumped herself down on the
sand, and just gazed out at the tumbling waves.

"I don't care for the swings and things," she said. "I just want to stay
here all the time, and dig and dig and dig."

As she spoke she was digging her heels into the fine white sand, and
poking her hands in, and burying her arms up to her dimpled elbows.

"Oh, Father, isn't it gee-lorious! Sit down, won't you, and let us bury
you in sand, all but your nose!"

"Not now," said Mr. Maynard, laughing. "Some day you may, when I'm in a
bathing suit. But I don't care for pockets full of sand. Now, I'm going
back to home and Mother. You two may stay down here till luncheon time
if you like."

Mr. Maynard went back to the house, and King and Marjorie continued
their explorations. The beach was flat and smooth, and its white sand
was full of shells, and here and there a few bits of seaweed, and
farther on some driftwood, and in the distance a pier, built out far
into the ocean.

"Did you ever _see_ such a place?" cried Marjorie, in sheer delight.