Now you cannot bounce a ball on sharp pointed rocks, and Sally and Andy and Alice, each holding a ball in his arms, were making ready to scramble back to the mainland to try their new treasures, when there was a loud shout from the water that made every one turn round to see what it could mean.
A small motor boat was chuf-chuf-chuffing straight toward the point where they stood. And a man was standing in the bow of the boat waving his hat in the air and shouting at the top of his voice,
‘My balls! My balls! They are my balls! My balls!’
As Sally and Andy and Alice each held a ball, and even the merry boy bather had an extra ball in his hand that had just come bouncing gayly in on the waves, it was plain that the man was talking to them.
So Father called back—he could do nothing else—‘If they are your balls, come and get them.’
When Sally and Andy and Alice heard these words, they clutched their balls very tightly as if they would never let them go.
But now Father was speaking again, for the man in the boat was quite near.
‘How did your balls get in the water?’ called Father.
And the man shouted back, ‘The box they were in fell overboard and the cover came off. I bought them for my shop over in Rockport, and I was carrying them home when they fell overboard. I nearly lost a box of tin horns, too.’
‘If you have a shop, perhaps you will sell these balls to me,’ suggested Father. ‘Would you like that ball you have?’ he asked the boy bather.