"All right," agreed Marjorie, and in their usual impetuous fashion, the two raced through the house from attic to cellar, though there really wasn't any attic, except a sort of low-ceiled loft. However, they climbed up into this, and then down through the various bedrooms on the second floor, and back to the first floor, which contained the large living-room, a spacious hall, and the dining-room and kitchen.
"It's all right," said King, nodding his head in approval. "Now outside, Midget."
Outside they flew, and took stock of their surroundings. Almost an acre of ground was theirs, and though as yet empty of special interest, King could see its possibilities.
"Room for a tennis court," he said; "then I guess we'll have a big swing, and a hammock, and a tent, and——"
"And a merry-go-round," supplemented Mr. Maynard, overhearing King's plans.
"No, not that, Father," said Marjorie, "but we can have swings and things, can't we?"
"I 'spect so, Mopsy. But with the ocean and the beach, I doubt if you'll stay in this yard much."
"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."