A disappointed look came over the face of Rose, but it changed to one of joy when her father took out another doll and gave it to her.  Then Mun Bun set up a cry: 

“I want one!”

“So do I!” echoed Margy.

“There is one for each of you,” laughed Cousin Tom, as he took out two more dolls.

“And two left over!” added Russ.

“Oh, where did you get them?” asked Rose.  “Oh, I just love mine!” and she hugged it to her closely.

“My doll’s wet!” exclaimed Mun Bun, as he saw the damp dress on his plaything.

“Mine is, too,” said Violet.  “But all dolls have to be wet when they come out of the ocean, don’t they, Daddy?”

“Yes, I suppose so.  And that is where these dolls came from—­right out of the ocean.”

Then the children were told how the queer box had been found again floating near the beach and how Cousin Tom had waded out in his high rubber boots and brought it to shore.

Mother Bunker and Cousin Ruth came out to see the find and they, too, thought the dolls were wonderful.

“And we saw a fish that could walk,” added Laddie when the dolls had been looked at again and again.

Then he and Russ told about the queer-looking skate.

The doll with the wig of black hair that had been soaked off was laid aside to be mended, as was the one the dress of which was badly stained by sea water.  But the other dolls were almost as good as new.  And, in fact, Rose and Violet would rather have had them than new dolls right out of the store, because there was such a queer story connected with them.

“I wonder if they came right from Japan,” mused Rose as she made believe put her doll to sleep.

“We can pretend so, anyhow,” said Violet.  “I’m not going to cry about my other doll that was drowned now, ’cause I got this one.  She’s the nicest one I ever had.”

“Mine, too,” added Rose.

I might say that the six little Bunkers never found out where the dolls came from.  But most likely they had fallen off some ship and the oiled silk and other wrappings kept them in good shape until the box was washed up on the beach the second time.

“Well, if the seashore is a bad place to lose things on account of so much sand it is also a good place to find things,” said Mother Bunker that night when the six little Bunkers had been put to bed and the dolls were also “asleep.”

“I’m glad you like it here,” said Cousin Ruth.  “But I am sorry that Rose lost her locket.”

“Well, it couldn’t be helped,” said the little girl’s mother.  “I did have hopes that we would find it soon after she lost it.  But now I have given up.”

“Yes,” agreed her husband.  “The locket is gone forever.”

But I have still a secret to tell you about that.

A few days after the finding of the dolls all six of the little Bunkers were playing down on the beach.  Four of them had the Japanese dolls, but Russ and Laddie did not.