"I suppose so," said Polly, with a sigh.
When they left the tram-car at the beginning of the village of Scheveningen they set off on a walk down to the Curhaus and the beach. Old Mr. King, as young as any one, started out on the promenade on the undulating terrace at the top of the Dunes, followed by the rest of his party.
Down below ran a level road. "There is the Boulevard," said Grandpapa. "See, child," pointing to it; but Phronsie had no eyes for anything but the hundreds and hundreds of Bath chairs dotting the sands.
"Oh, Grandpapa, what are they?" she cried, pulling his hand and pointing to them.
"Those are chairs," answered Mr. King, "and by and by we will go down and get into some of them."
"They look just like the big sunbonnets that Grandma Bascom always wore when she went out to feed her hens, don't they, Jasper?"
"Precisely," he said, bursting into a laugh. "How you always do see funny things, Polly."
"And see what queer patches there are all up and down the sides of some of them," cried Polly. "Whatever can they be, Jasper?"
"Oh, those are the advertisements," said Jasper. "You'll find that everything is plastered up in that way abroad."
"Just as the omnibuses in London are all covered over with posters," said Polly; "weren't they funny, Jasper?"