See what he has, Cricket, and tell him he
mustn't have it," said Eunice.

"Bring it to Cricket, baby," said that young lady, holding out her hand.

"Dess what I dot," repeated the baby, edging off a little.

Just then Zaidee appeared from the house. Kenneth immediately trotted
off up the beach at the sight of her. She ran after him.

"Do away!" he cried, holding his possession, whatever it was, more
tightly. "You tan't have it, Zaidee. I dot it."

"What's the matter, Zaidee?" called Eunice. "Where's Eliza?"

"She's dressing Helen. Eunice, Kenneth has auntie's gold watch. She
left it on the little table where she keeps her God-books"--for so the
twins always called the Bible and Prayer-book--"and he's run off with
it. I guess auntie forgot it. Ought he to have it, Eunice?"

"Of course not," said Eunice, springing up. "Edna, auntie told us to put
it away, and we forgot it. Dear me! I hope he won't drop it. Baby, come
here and give the watch to Eunice." She went slowly towards him, holding
out her hand.

But baby hugged his treasure. "I dot tick-tick!" he announced,
triumphantly. "Tennet likes it. Oo tan't have it," and off he started as
fast as two little legs could carry him, over the soft sand till he
reached the firmer beach, which the receding tide had left hard.

Eunice sprang after him. The baby looked back over his shoulder, greatly
enjoying the race, tripped over a bit of stone, and fell headlong, the
watch shooting on ahead. He gave a frightened cry as he fell, but the
next instant, when Eunice reached him, he lay motionless. Hurriedly she
raised him up. A stream of blood poured from an ugly gash in his poor
little forehead, cut on a piece of glass that was half imbedded in the
sand. As she raised him his golden head fell back heavily, and his eyes
were closed.

"Oh, girls, girls!" shrieked Eunice. "Kenneth is dead! he's killed! he's
killed!"

Cricket and Edna were already by her side.

"Run, Zaidee--Edna--run for Eliza. Get some water, Cricket. Oh, baby,
speak to me," poor frightened Eunice cried, half beside herself at the
gruesome sight of the baby's white, still face, and that dreadful blood
welling up so fast, and staining everything with its vivid red. Cricket
flew to the edge of the beach, dipping water up in the crown of her
sailor hat. She tore off her soft Windsor tie to use for a handkerchief
(which, of course, she didn't have), to wipe off the streaming blood.
The little face looked ghas