“I think the seashore is every bit as nice as the mountains. There are ever so many things to do, and I know you’ll like Plum Beach, where we’re going. It’s the dandiest place—”
“It couldn’t be as nice as this, Dolly.”
“Oh, that seems funny to me, Bessie. I’ve always loved the seashore, ever since I can remember. And, of course, since I’ve learned to swim, I’ve enjoyed it even more than I used to.”
“You can’t swim much in the sea, can you? Isn’t the surf too heavy?”
“The surf’s good fun, even if you don’t do any swimming in it, Bessie. It picks you up and throws you around, and it’s splendid sport. But down at Plum Beach you can have either still water or surf. You see, there’s a beach and a big cove—and on that beach the water is perfectly calm, unless there’s a tremendous storm, and we’re not likely to run into one of those.”
“How is that, Dolly? I thought there was always surf at the seashore.”
“There’s a sand bar outside the cove, and it’s grown so that it really makes another beach, outside. And on that there is real surf. So we can have whichever sort of bathing we like best, or both kinds on the same day, if we want.”
“Maybe I’ll like it better when I see it, then. Because I do love to swim, and I don’t believe I’d enjoy just letting the surf bang me around.”
“Why, Bessie, you say you may like it better when you see it? Haven’t you ever been to the seashore?”
“I certainly never have, Dolly! You seem to forget that I’ve spent all the time I can remember in Hedgeville.”