Mr. Horton laughed.
“It’s six o’clock,” he answered. “The sun has been up a long time. Some morning you and I must struggle up to see a sunrise, Sunny Boy. Ah, there’s the sea. Doesn’t it sparkle this morning?”
The little waves were running up and down, just as Sunny Boy had seen them yesterday. He wondered if they had done that all night, and then he knew they had. The last thing he had heard the night before was the dull roar of the waves as they broke on the sand, and he had heard it that morning, too. The sea, he thought, never rested.
“There’s a little girl, Daddy.” Sunny’s quick eyes had spied a small figure farther down the beach. “What’s she got in her box?”
“You ask her,” suggested Mr. Horton. “She probably lives in one of the cottages, and you’ll want to be friends. Ask her what she is doing.”
They walked down toward the little girl, and when she heard their feet in the sand she turned. She was a pretty child, with big brown eyes and short, curly, brown hair. She smiled at Sunny Boy and her smile showed that several front teeth were missing. This made her lisp when she talked.
“’Lo!” she said pleasantly. “Are you hunting thells?”
“Is that what you’ve got in your box?” asked Sunny Boy. “Let me see?”
The little girl held up her box; it was half full of odd shells.
“Ellen! Ellen! Breakfast!” called some one clearly.