dn't find Aunt Jo's house. She found the right street
for me. I know her--her name's Mary!"

The cashier turned to look at Violet.

"Oh, now I remember you!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I did see you crying on
the street in the Back Bay section of Boston one day. I remember now. I
could tell where you lived because my mother used to sew in that
neighborhood, and I had seen the big dog at your aunt's house. So you
got home all right, did you?"

"Yes, she came just as I was starting out to look for her," said Daddy
Bunker. "We often wondered who had been so kind as to show Violet the
right way, but all she could tell was that it was a girl named 'Mary'. I
often thought I'd like to see her, and thank her for being so kind to
our little girl, but, only knowing your first name----"

"My name is Mary Turner," said the girl. "I live in Boston, though not
at Back Bay, but I come over here every day on the boat to work."

"Do you like it?" asked Aunt Jo.

"Yes, it is very pleasant, and not too hard. I like the smell of the
salt water. I'd be near the ocean all the while if I could. But we can't
have all we want," and she smiled. "Shall I get you some more cold
water?" she asked Margy.

"Yes, please," answered the little girl. "I feel a lot better now."

"That's good," said Mary Turner, as she went to the water-cooler.

"Wasn't it funny I should see her again?" said Violet. "She was awful
nice to me when I was lost."

"She seems like a very nice girl," said Mrs. Bunker, "and she is
certainly very kind to us. I'm glad we met her."

Mary came back with more water for Margy, who was now able to walk
around, the feeling of illness having passed.

"I want to go down and play in the sand," she said.

"Better not go out in the hot sun right away," advised Aunt Jo. "Stay
in the shade a bit, Margy."

"Yes," urged Mary Turner. "Come and see my queer little office, where I
sit all day and hand out tickets and take in gold watches and diamond
rings and things like that."

"Do you keep 'em?" asked Russ.

"Oh, no! The people who go in bathing leave them with me for safety. I
have to give them back when they hand me the check I give them. I keep
each person's things separately in little pigeonholes, and there is a
man on guard there, too,--a sort of policeman."

"Are there any pigeons in the pigeonholes?" asked Vi.

"Oh, no!" laughed Mary. "They just call them pigeonholes because they
are like the openings that pigeons go in and