"Isn't there any law here against speeding?" asked Dunham with concern. "First water mobile I ever saw. Take his number, somebody. It's a scandal."
"He's number one," said Sylvia. "We're going to get some more. I 'm going to have a cabinet."
"You are? Well, I don't think a sport like that would be a safe member of any cabinet."
"Here. I'll show you the urchin I couldn't get," said Edna. "You'll reach him for us. My arm isn't long enough. See that big dark spot down in the corner? That is Sylvia's candlestick. A beautiful, lilac, embroidered candlestick."
"Who'd have thought it!" responded Dunham, rolling up his sleeves. In a minute the dripping prize was being offered to Sylvia, who clasped her hands and drew back.
"Would you mind putting him down?" she said. "He looks so big and—whiskery."
"Oh, I'm ashamed of you, Sylvia," laughed Edna. "Now you have to find another just his size, Mr. Dunham. She has to have a pair."
"She does, eh?" returned John resignedly. "I don't know what I'll draw out of this grab bag next," and he plunged his arm in again.
"No, no, you mustn't do that!" cried Edna,—"clouding up the water like that. We have to peer. Come and peer, Sylvia." They all leaned over the side of the pool. "See that little starfish? He's lost a leg already in his short career; and those pretty anemones! Why didn't I bring a pail. I shall make an aquarium for you on the piazza, and we'll have anemones, and undistinguished urchins who will never be in a cabinet or hold candles, and starfish, and barnacles. Oh, there's a baby, John. Quick, there! Oh, I can get it myself." She reached down in a flash and drew forth a tiny urchin.
"You startled me so," said John plaintively. "You said a baby, and I couldn't see even a bulrush."