“And is there any gold?” Laddie asked.

“I never found any, if there is,” was the answer.  “But then I never had much time to dig for it.  You may, if you like.  But now are you all ready?”

“All ready, I think,” said Mother Bunker.  “Don’t pick up any more stray dogs or cats, Margy, my dear.”

“This one came to me,” said the little girl.  “I loved him, I did, but now he is gone.”

However there was so much new to see and talk about down at the seashore that Margy soon forgot about her little troubles.  There were some carriages and automobiles at the station, and, dividing themselves between two of these, the Bunkers and Cousin Tom and his wife were soon driving down toward the ocean, for Cousin Tom lived on a street not far from the beach.  He was the son of Mr. Ralph Bunker, who had been dead some years, and Mr. Ralph Bunker was Daddy Bunker’s brother.  So the children’s father was Cousin Tom’s uncle, you see.

“Did you have a nice trip?” asked Cousin Ruth, of Mrs. Bunker, as she rode beside her in the automobile.

“Yes, very.  Laddie thought a search-light was a thunderstorm, when we were coming down on the Fall River boat, Margy crawled under a fruit stand in New York to get a stray kitten, and Mun Bun got mixed up with another little boy.  But we are used to such things happening, and we don’t mind.  I hope you will not be driven wild by the children.”

“Oh, no, I love them!” said Cousin Ruth with a smile, as she looked over at the six little Bunkers.

“That’s good,” said their mother with a smile.  “Of course they get into mischief once in a while, but they are usually pretty good and don’t give much trouble.  They play very nicely together.”

“I’m sure they must.  I shall love them all—­every one!  I wonder if they are hungry.”

“They generally are ready to eat,” said Mrs. Bunker.  “But don’t fuss too much over them.  They can wait until meal time.”

But the six little Bunkers did not have to do this, for when they reached the bungalow, not far from the beach, where Cousin Tom and his wife lived, there was plenty of bread and jam for the hungry children—­and hungry they were, you would have believed, if you could have seen them eat.  Cousin Ruth seemed to think it was fun.

“Welcome to Seaview!” cried Cousin Tom, when the children were eating and Mr. and Mrs. Bunker had laid aside their things and the baggage had been carried to the different rooms.  “Now I want you all to have a good time while you’re here.  Make yourselves right at home.”

“They seem to be doing that,” said Daddy Bunker, for the children just then finished their bread and butter and jam, and began to run all around the house.

Cousin Tom’s bungalow was about a block from the ocean, and on a new street in Seaview, so there were no other houses very near it.  Not far away was what is called an “inlet.”  That is, the waters of the ocean came into the land for quite a distance, making a place where boats could get in and out without going through the surf, or heavy waves.  This inlet was called Clam River, for toward the upper end, a mile or so from the sea, it was shallow and sandy, and many clams were found there.