“Would she be carried out to sea, like Mun Bun and Margy ’most was?” the little girl wanted to know.

“She might, if the tide current was strong enough,” said Cousin Tom.  “What kind of doll was she?”

“China,” answered Vi.  “She was hollow, ’cause she made a hollow sound when you tapped her.  And she had a hole in her back, and sometimes I used to pour milk in there, and make believe feed her.”

“Well, if your doll was hollow, and had a hole in her back, she probably filled with water when she sank,” said Cousin Tom.

“Oh, dear!” sighed Violet.

That evening, when the tide was low, so there was not so much water in the inlet, Cousin Tom and Daddy Bunker, taking Russ with them to show where his boat had upset, rowed out to the middle of Clam River.  It took them a little while to find the place where Russ had last seen his toy boat, but finally they found it.  Then, looking down into the water, they peered about for a sight of the white sail.

“There it is!” suddenly cried Russ, as he leaned over the side of the boat.  “I see something white.”

“Yes, I see it, too,” said Daddy Bunker.  “Perhaps that is the sail of the sunken toy boat, and perhaps the doll is near here.”

But when Cousin Tom put down the long-handled crab net and scooped up the white object, it was found to be a bit of paper.

“Oh, dear!” sighed Russ.  “I wish it was Vi’s doll!” He felt bad about the sorrow he had caused his little sister.

“We’ll try again,” said his father, and, after rowing about a bit and peering down into the water, they saw something else white, and this time it really was Russ’s boat.  Cousin Tom scooped it up in his crab net, and when the stones which were tied on deck, were loosed, the boat floated as well as ever, and the wind and sun soon dried the wet sail.

But, though they scooped with crab nets all about the place where they had found the boat, they could not bring up Vi’s doll.

“Oh, didn’t you find her?” asked the little girl, when her father, Cousin Tom, and Russ came back in the rowboat.

“No, dear, we couldn’t find her,” said Daddy Bunker.

“Oh, dear!” and Vi cried very hard.

“Never mind, I’ll get you another doll,” said her mother.

“They won’t ever a doll be as nice as she was,” sobbed Vi.  “I—­I just lo-lo-loved her!”

They all felt sorry for Violet, and Russ said she could have his new knife, if she wanted it.  But she said she didn’t; all she wanted was her doll.

“Never mind,” said Rose, trying to comfort her sister.  “Maybe when I find my gold locket, if I ever do, you’ll find your lost doll.  We’ve got two things to hunt for now—­your doll and my locket.”

“But your locket is lost on land, and, maybe, if you dig in the sand enough, you can find it,” sobbed Violet.  “But you can’t dig in the water!”

“Maybe she’ll be washed up on the beach with the tide, same as the driftwood and the shells and the seaweed are washed up,” put in Russ.  “I’ll look along the beach every day, Vi, and maybe I’ll find your doll for you.”