f.

Suddenly, however, Mr. Putchett's opinion of shells underwent a radical
change, for the child, straightening herself and taking something from
her pocket, exclaimed:

"Oh, dear, somebody's picked up all the pretty ones. I thought, may be,
there mightn't be any here, so I brought you one; just see what pretty
pink and yellow spots there are on it."

Mr. Putchett looked, and there came into his face the first flush of
color that had been there--except in anger--for years. He had
occasionally received presents from business acquaintances, but he had
correctly looked at them as having been forwarded as investments, so
they awakened feelings of suspicion rather than of pleasure.

But at little Alice's shell he looked long and earnestly, and when he
put it into his pocket he looked for two or three moments far away, and
yet at nothing in particular.

"Do you have a nice boarding-house?" asked Alice, as they sauntered
along the beach, stopping occasionally to pick up pebbles and to dig
wells.

"Not very," said Mr. Putchett, the sanded barroom and his own rather
dismal chamber coming to his mind.

"You ought to board where we do," said Alice, enthusiastically. "We have
_heaps_ of fun. Have you got a barn?"

Mr. Putchett confessed that he did not know.

"Oh, we've got a splendid one!" exclaimed the child. "There's stalls,
and a granary, and a carriage-house and _two_ lofts in it. We put out
hay to the horses, and they eat it right out of our hands--aren't afraid
a bit. Then we get into the granary, and bury ourselves all up in the
oats, so only our heads stick out. The lofts are just _lovely_: one's
full of hay and the other's full of wheat, and we chew the wheat, and
make gum of it. The hay-stalks are real nice and sweet to chew, too.
They only cut the hay last week, and we all rode in on the wagon--one,
two, three, four--seven of us. Then we've got two croquet sets, and the
boys make us whistles and squalks."

"Squalks?" interrogated the broker.

"Yes; they're split quills, and you blow in them. They don't make very
pretty music, but it's ever so funny. We've got two big swings and a
hammock, too."

"Is the house very full?" asked Mr. Putchett.

"Not so very," replied the child. "If you come there to board, I'll make
Frank teach you how to make whistles."

That afternoon Mr. Putchett took the train for New York, from which city
he returned the next morning with quite a well-filled trunk. It was
afterward