“Marian, me got my spade and pail, but me can’t find baby’s,” called Esther.
“His little pail is here,” answered Marian, “but I don’t know where his spade is. Let him take the big dig-spoon instead.” A dig-spoon, be it known, is a spoon so old and dilapidated that mother does not mind if the children use it to dig in the dirt with. The big dig-spoon of the Hadley children was a huge iron affair about a yard in length that had doubtless been originally intended to stir soup in a hotel kitchen.
As they started down the hill on the way to the pier, Bobbie’s mother ran out to her gate. “Marian,” she called, “are you taking plenty of wraps with you? You know it gets cold toward evening.”
Marian held up a couple of light shoulder shawls. “Delbert has his coat,” she said, “and Esther and I never want anything around us anyway. There are always a couple of blankets on the launch seats.”
“Oh, you foolish child,” declared the lady; “you wait.” She ran back into the house, and in a moment came back with a very large heavy circular cape, “There, you take this,” she said. “It will cover you and Esther and the baby too. Jennie will need both those flimsy shawls. You know it won’t do to let her get chilled.”
Marian thanked her laughingly and accepted the cape.
Mr. Cunningham was down on the pier. He was a dapper young man, pleasant and good-looking and well liked by everybody at the Port, and he held the most lucrative and responsible position of all the Americans there.
MARIAN LAUGHINGLY ACCEPTED THE CAPE
He smiled as the Hadley party trailed down the hill and out on the pier, the sturdy baby well in the lead.