“Ruth, what’s a chambered nautilus?” Polly picked up a round shell, white and fragile, with little raised dots on it like lace work.
“That is not,” laughed Ruth. “That’s a sea urchin, I think. You can find the nautilus only in the tropics. They call them Argonauts too, did you know it? I think it’s pretty, for they say they can rise to the surface of the sea and spread a little sail.”
Polly leaned back her head, her hands clasped behind it, and repeated softly:
“This is the ship of pearl, which poets feign
Sails the unshadowed main.
The venturous bark that flings
On the sweet summer winds its purple wings,
In gulfs enchanted where the siren sings,
And coral reefs lie bare,
And the cold sea maids rise to sun their streaming hair.”