e again where they could pay frequent visits to libraries and stores,
go to church, and now and then attend a concert or lecture.

And there was a good deal of quiet pleasure to be found in rambles
about the streets and queer byways and lanes of the quaint old town,
looking at its odd houses and gardens, and perhaps catching a glimpse of
the life going on within.

They gained an entrance to some; one day it was to the home of an old
sea captain who had given up his former occupation and now wove baskets
of various sizes and shapes, all very neat, strong and substantial.

There was always something pleasant to do; sometimes it was to take the
cars on the little three-mile railroad to Surfside and pass an hour or
two there; again to visit the Athenaeum and examine its stores of
curiosities and treasures, mostly of the sea; or to select a book from
its library; or to spend an hour among the old china and antique
furniture offered for sale to summer visitors.

They were admitted to see the cast of the dauphin and bought photographs
of it, as well as of many of the scenes in and about the town, with
which to refresh their memories of the delightful old place when far
away, or to show to friends who had never had the pleasure of a visit to
its shores.

Violet spent many an enjoyable hour in sketching, finding no lack of
subjects worthy of her pencil; and those of the party who liked botany
found curious and interesting specimens among the flora of the island.

They had very delightful weather most of the time, but there was an
occasional rainy day when their employments and amusements must be such
as could be found within doors.

But even these days, with the aid of fancy-work, and drawing materials,
newspapers, magazines and books, conversation and games, were very far
from dull and wearisome; often one read aloud while the others listened.

One day Elsie brought out a story in manuscript.

"I have been thinking," she said, "that this might interest you all as
being a tale of actual occurrences during the time of the French
Revolution; as we have been thinking and talking so much of that in
connection with the story of the poor little dauphin."

"What is it? and who is the author?" asked her father.

"It is an historical story written by Betty's sister Molly," she
answered. "For the benefit of the children I will make a few preparatory
remarks," she added, lightly, and with a pleasant smile.

* *