versal of type, Suzanna was the patient one, Maizie the impatient.
Suzanna would sit in the boat next to Mr. Bartlett, holding her line,
and breathlessly wait for hours if need be, statue-like, till she felt
the thrilling nibble. Maizie would grow tired immediately, and to
Peter's disgust, she would wriggle her feet or move restlessly about,
quite spoiling for him the day's outing. Maizie at last begged to be let
off from the fishing expeditions.

"I'd rather just lie in the sand and paddle in the water, or watch the
big white ships," she said.

"You're to do exactly as you please," said Mr. Bartlett, and so they
did, each and every one.

Many hours they all spent on one of the large piers running out a great
distance into the ocean, where always there were gaiety and music, and
here one afternoon Suzanna, Peter, Graham, and Mr. Bartlett, all seated
at the end of the pier saw a huge shark darting about the water. The few
daring swimmers in his vicinity quickly moved away.

"A real shark," cried Suzanna. "When I go to bed tonight I'll just think
I dreamed it."

Said Mr. Bartlett: "Suppose, Suzanna, I buy you a book filled with blank
pages, and having a little padlock with a small key, for your very own,
so that every night you may write the happenings of the day and the
impressions made upon you."

"Oh, I'd like to do that," cried Suzanna, her eyes shining, "and then
surely I won't forget any single little thing to tell daddy and mother."

"I'll write for the book," Mr. Bartlett promised, "when we return to the
cottage."

After a time they left the pier and walked down the street, running
along with the sands. The street was lined with little stores of all
kinds; one where fresh fish were sold, another where French fried
potatoes and vinegar were offered to a hungry multitude; a place in
which handmade laces were made and sold. A florist booth kept by a
dark-faced Greek was neighbor to a shop built with turrets like a
castle. Here a happy-faced Italian women exhibited trays of uncut
stones, semi-precious ones, explained Mr. Bartlett, and strings of
beads, coral, pearl, flat turquoise, topaz, and amethysts. There were
bits of old porcelain, crystal cups, and oriental embroideries, and
little carved gods on ebony pedestals. The place reminded Suzanna of
Drusilla's historic old pawn shop and she stood entranced.

Soon they were at the place of Graham and Peter's delight, a shooting
gallery, where if one were very