gulls," said Win. "Salt Lake City, ever so far inland. A fearful
plague of grasshoppers ate everything green and turned the place
into a desert. They came the second summer, but something else
came too. Over the Rocky Mountains, away from the Pacific Ocean,
flew a great flock of gulls and ate the grasshoppers. Their coming
seemed so like a miracle that the city erected a beautiful
monument to them."

"Did they ever come again?" asked Edith, greatly impressed.

"No," said Win. "Just that once."

"Without doubt it was a miracle," said Edith so reverently that
the three looked at her.

Roger gave a little snort, started to say something, looked again
at Edith's rapt face and changed his mind. "Boston ought to put up
a monument, too," he remarked at length. "Miracles happen every
summer in Boston. The city swelters with the mercury out of sight
and then along steps the east wind. In ten minutes, everybody puts
on coats and stops drinking ice-water. Some tidy miracle-worker,
our east wind."

"Especially in winter," said Win laughing. "I'm afraid a monument
to the east wind wouldn't be popular along in January. Shall we
come on? Let's go up this street. I've a map, but things look
rather crooked, so we'd better keep together."

The quartette started, Roger and Win leading the way. St. Helier's
streets are indeed crooked, and paved with cobble stones of