Aunt Crete gasped with joy. The thought of the ocean, the real ocean, was wonderful. She had dreamed of it many times, but never had seen it, because she was always the one who could just as well stay at home as not. She never got run down or nervous or cross, and was ordered to go away for her health; and she never insisted upon going when the rest went. Her heart was bounding as it had not bounded since the morning of the last Sunday-school picnic she had attended when she was a girl.
“Indeed, dear boy, I do want to go with all my heart if I really ought. I have always wanted to see the ocean, and I can’t imagine any place I’d rather go than the Traymore, Luella’s talked so much about it.”
“All right. Then it’s settled that we go. How soon can we get ready? We’ll go shopping to-morrow morning bright and early, and get a trunkful of new clothes. It’s always nice to have new things when you go off; you feel like another person, and don’t have to be sewing on buttons all the time,” laughed Donald, as if he was enjoying the whole thing as much as his aunt. “I meant to have a good time getting presents for the whole family; but, as they aren’t here, I’m going to get them all for you. You’re not to say a word. Have you got a trunk?”
“Trunk? No, child. I haven’t ever had any need for a trunk. The time I went to Uncle Hiram’s funeral I took Carrie’s old haircloth one, but I don’t know’s that’s fit to travel again. Carrie’s got her flannels packed away in camphor in it now, and I shouldn’t like to disturb it.”
“Then we’ll get a trunk.”
“O, no,” protested Aunt Crete; “that would be a foolish expense. There’s some pasteboard boxes up-stairs. I can make out with them in a shawl-strap. I sha’n’t need much for a few days.”
“Enlarge your scale of things, Aunt Crete. You’re going to stay more than a few days. You’re going to stay till you’re tired, and just want to come back. As we’re going to a ‘swell’ hotel,”—Donald reflected that Aunt Crete could not understand his reference to Luella’s description of the Traymore,—“we can’t think of shawl-straps and boxes. You shall have a good big trunk. I saw an advertisement of one that has drawers and a hat-box in it, like a bureau. We’ll see if we can find one to suit.”
“It sounds just like the fairy tales I used to read to Luella when she was a little girl,” beamed Aunt Crete. “It doesn’t seem as if it was I. I can’t make it true.”
“Now let’s write down a list of things you need,” said the eager planner; “we’ll have to hurry up things, and get off this week if possible. I’ve been reading the paper, and they say there’s coming a hot wave. I need to get you to the shore before it arrives, if possible. Come; what shall I put down first? What have you always thought you’d like, Aunt Crete? Don’t you need some silk dresses?”