enty yards of pebble covered hardly at high water; and on
one side of this pebble isthmus was the full surf of the sea, and on
the other the quiet ripple of the waters of the bay. But such an
island! All their own to colonize and govern, and separated from home
by just a breadth of danger.

All good children have some pirate blood; and I doubt if Mercedes
enjoyed it more than Ann and Jane and even haughty Dolly did. And to
the right was the wide Massachusetts Bay, and beyond it far blue
mountains, hazy in the southern sun. Then there were bath-houses, and
little swimming-suits ready for each, into which the other children
quickly got, Mercedes following their example; and they waded on the
quiet side; Mercedes rather timidly, the other children, who could
swim a little, boldly. Old Mr. Bowdoin (who was looking on from above)
shouted to them to know "if they had captured the island."

"Grapes grow on the island," said Ann and Jane.

Dolly was silent; Mercedes would have believed any fairy tale by now.
And they started for it, Harley leading; but the tide was too high,
and at the farther end of the little pebble isthmus the higher
breakers actually came across and poured their foam into the clear
stillness. Ann and Jane were afraid; even Dolly hesitated; as for
Harley, he was stopped by discovering a beautiful new peg-top which
had been cast up by the sea and was rolling around upon the outer
beach.

"Discoverers must be brave!" shouted Mr. Bowdoin from above. And
Mercedes shut her eyes and made a dash through the yard of deeper
water as the breaker on the other side receded. She grasped the rock
by the seaweed and pulled herself up to where it was hot in the sun,
and sat to look about her. There were numerous lovely little pink
shells; and in the crevices above, some beautiful rock crystals, pink
or white. Mercedes touched one, and found it came off easily. She put
it to her lips.

"Why, it's rock candy!" she exclaimed.

There was an explosive chuckle from the old gentleman across the
chasm, and the others swarmed across like Cabot and Pizarro after
Columbus.

"Remember, children, she's queen of the island to-day,--she got there
first!" shouted Mr. Bowdoin, and went back to his spy-glass and his
armchair.

So that day Mercedes was queen; and her realm a real island, bounded
by the real Atlantic, and Harley, at least, was her faithful subject.
At the water's edge was great kelp, and barnacles, and jellyfish, al