They ran out to the sand-pile, looked at the pretty shells, took a slide or two and a few swings in the big swing and made friends with the two children, a boy and a girl from Springfield, Massachusetts, who were playing there, and, in a very short while it seemed, the gong sounded and they went in to supper.
It was a different sort of a supper from any Mary Jane had ever eaten away at a hotel—though as a matter of fact the Willow Tree Cottage wasn't really a hotel at all; it was an old New England farmhouse enlarged a bit and opened to some twenty-five selected boarders through the summer season. And this meal truly was not a dinner such as Mary Jane was used to eating in the evening; it was a real supper, delicious and old fashioned as one could hope to find. There was coffee cake, fresh baked and luscious with great "wells" of sugar and butter running through in streaks of sweetness; baked beans in brown pots; cold ham, coldslaw with a sour cream sauce, and hot potatoes with cream gravy. And then, after each table full of guests were seated and the meal began, Mrs. Bryan herself (she would trust this task to no one else) appeared with a great platter of lobsters, red and shining and smelling oh, so good!
Mary Jane helped herself very daintily but Mrs. Bryan said, "Here, honey, that's no way to eat at my house! You take a big helping and then pass up! There's three more platterfuls like this out on the kitchen table!" The girls needed no second urging; they liked lobster, but as they polished off claw after claw, they agreed that never never had they eaten lobster before—not really truly lobster as this luscious food proved to be.
As the maid appeared to ask what dessert they wanted, Mrs. Merrill said, "Do you want any dessert, girls? You've had such a good supper already."
"Why mother!" exclaimed Mary Jane, "we were hungry!" And then as the maid said, "Huckleberry shortcake and apple pie" (meaning of course that Mary Jane should take her choice), Mary Jane, not understanding, replied blissfully, "I like 'em both, thank you!"
"Bless her heart!" laughed Mrs. Bryan, "she shall have 'em both, Ann. You bring the girls each a helping of pie and shortcake—it's not too rich, it won't hurt 'em for once," she added as she saw Mrs. Merrill starting to object, "remember how you used to eat two helpings of dessert and how you made your dear father so ashamed!" Mrs. Merrill and the good lady laughed in recollection—and the girls had their double dessert.
In the long twilight the Merrills took a leisurely walk through the pine tree grove off toward the south of the cottage and home along the rocks by the ocean. By the time they turned toward home the sun had set in rosy glory and through the gathering shadows could be seen the gleam of lights in lighthouses near and far. 'Way down the coast on some jutting rocks, still farther down on an out-reaching promontory, straight off to the northeast on the Isle of Shoals and away toward the north was the Portsmouth Light. Some lights burned steadily, red or white; some flashed on and off as though making a signal. Mrs. Merrill explained that each different location had its own light and method of burning it, so that a pilot, out in the ocean when he saw a light burning red, white, red white, could look on the chart and see just where that light belonged; and then, when he saw one burning white, white, red, he could look again and see where that one was.
The girls loved to watch the lights and to listen to the pound of the waves on the rocks near by. They would have liked to stay and watch a long time, but Mrs. Merrill led them back toward the cottage by dark and, to tell the truth, beds didn't feel so very bad after such a big day and, soon after the stars peeped out, two tired travelers were sound asleep.
Sunday morning the girls slept late and almost missed breakfast; then after a short walk to the beach they slipped on fresh frocks and went with Mrs. Merrill to a quaint little church about a mile away. The walk there was charming, past the biggest hotel they had seen the night before, along the beach, through a wood and to the edge of a meadow where the little church, all vine-covered and rose-laden, came to view.
After dinner at noon, the girls sat on the beach a long time, watching the tide and talking over the good times they had had and were going to have. They persuaded their mother that because the water was too cold for bathing that day, they ought to stay over till afternoon of Monday so that they might have a chance to bathe in the ocean.