At last Pauline reeled in her line with a petulant motion.
“Supposing we give up fishing, and go around Bird Rocks to hunt for abalones.”
“A good idea,” said Paul. “The tide is low, and maybe we can find abalones enough for a soup to-morrow.”
“A soup, indeed! Will you hear the boy?” cried lively Pauline. “Paul thinks only of soup, and not at all of the beauty of the shells.”
“I’d rather have one large abalone shell than forty herrings,” said Molly, escorting Harry to the mainland.
“Especially than forty herrings that won’t be caught,” added Kirke, dropping his tackle into the basket. “Perhaps we shall have better luck after the tide begins to come in.”
“I shouldn’t wonder. We’ll try again later,” said Pauline, lingering at the end of the wharf while Kirke concealed the basket beneath it.
Then the two hastened forward to overtake Paul and Molly, who had set out for the rocky cave beyond Bird Rocks. Weezy and Harry lagged behind the others, Harry’s short fat legs being already weary of ploughing through the sand.
Weezy was very polite to her little guest, and very proud to show him the wonders of Santa Luzia, which she seemed to regard as the especial property of herself and her family.
“This is one of our owl shells,” said she presently, bringing Harry a limpet shell about as large as the palm of her hand.