le sister. "She's 'gaged to
Willy Prentiss. And she's got a 'gagement wing; only, she turns the
stone round inside, so's to make people b'lieve it's a plain gold wing
and she's mallied already. Isn't that cheating? It's just as bad as
telling a weal story."

"No, it isn't either!" cried the other, twirling a small gilt ring
round on a brown finger, and revealing a gem made, apparently, of
second-rate sealing-wax, and about the color of a lobster's claw. "No,
it isn't cheating, not one bit; 'cause sometimes the wing gets turned
round all by itself, and then people can see that it isn't plain gold.
And Nelly's 'gaged, too, just as much as I am, only she hasn't got any
wing, because Harry Sin--"

"Now, Lotty!" screamed Nelly, flinging herself upon her, "you mustn't
tell the name."

"So your name is Lotty, is it?" said Eyebright, who had abandoned
Genevieve to the embraces of Jenny, and was digging in the sand with
the rest.

"No, it isn't. My really name is Charlotte P., only Mamma calls me
Lotty. I don't like it much. It's such a short name, just Lotty. Look
here, you didn't ever see me till to-day, so it can't make much
difference to you, so won't you please call me Charlotte P.? I'd like
it so much if you would."

Eyebright hastened to assure Charlotte P. of her willingness to grant
this slight favor.

"Are these little boys your brothers, Lot--Charlotte P., I mean?" she
asked.

"Oh, no!" cried Nelly. "Our bwother is lots and lots bigger than they
are. That's Sinclair and Fweddy. They ain't no 'lation at all, 'cept
that they live next door."

"Their mamma's a widow," interposed Charlotte P. "She plays on the
piano, and a real handsome gentleman comes to see her 'most every day.
That's what being a widow means."

"Look here what I've found!" shouted Sinclair, who had gone farther
down the beach. "I guess it's a shrimp. And if I had a match I'd make
a fire and cook it, for I read in a book once that shrimps are
delicious."

"Let me see him! Let me see him!" clamored the little ones. Then, in a
tone of disgust: "Oh, my! ain't he horrid-looking and little. He isn't
any bigger than the head of a pin."

"That's not true," asserted Sinclair: "he's bigger than the head of my
mamma's shawl-pin, and that's ever so big."

"I don't believe he's good a bit," declared Lotty.

"Then you shan't have any of him when he's cooked," said Sinclair.
"I've got a jelly-fish, too. He's in a hole with a little water in it,
bu