The servants were already installed, and the open doors seemed to invite the family to come in and make themselves at home.

“Let’s go straight bang through the whole house,” said King, “and then outdoors afterward.”

“All right,” agreed Marjorie, and in their usual impetuous fashion, the two raced through the house from attic to cellar, though there really wasn’t any attic, except a sort of low-ceiled loft.  However, they climbed up into this, and then down through the various bedrooms on the second floor, and back to the first floor, which contained the large living-room, a spacious hall, and the dining-room and kitchen.

“It’s all right,” said King, nodding his head in approval.  “Now outside, Midget.”

Outside they flew, and took stock of their surroundings.  Almost an acre of ground was theirs, and though as yet empty of special interest, King could see its possibilities.

“Room for a tennis court,” he said; “then I guess we’ll have a big swing, and a hammock, and a tent, and——­”

“And a merry-go-round,” supplemented Mr. Maynard, overhearing King’s plans.

“No, not that, Father,” said Marjorie, “but we can have swings and things, can’t we?”

“I ’spect so, Mopsy.  But with the ocean and the beach, I doubt if you’ll stay in this yard much.”

“Oh, that’s so; I forgot the ocean!  Come on, Father, let’s go and look at it.”

So the three went down to the beach, and Marjorie, who hadn’t been to the seashore since she was a small child, plumped herself down on the sand, and just gazed out at the tumbling waves.

“I don’t care for the swings and things,” she said.  “I just want to stay here all the time, and dig and dig and dig.”

As she spoke she was digging her heels into the fine white sand, and poking her hands in, and burying her arms up to her dimpled elbows.

“Oh, Father, isn’t it gee-lorious!  Sit down, won’t you, and let us bury you in sand, all but your nose!”

“Not now,” said Mr. Maynard, laughing.  “Some day you may, when I’m in a bathing suit.  But I don’t care for pockets full of sand.  Now, I’m going back to home and Mother.  You two may stay down here till luncheon time if you like.”

Mr. Maynard went back to the house, and King and Marjorie continued their explorations.  The beach was flat and smooth, and its white sand was full of shells, and here and there a few bits of seaweed, and farther on some driftwood, and in the distance a pier, built out far into the ocean.

“Did you ever see such a place?” cried Marjorie, in sheer delight.

“Well, I was at the seashore last year,” said King, “while you were at Grandma’s.”

“But it wasn’t as nice as this, was it?  Say it wasn’t!”

“No; the sand was browner.  This is the nicest sand I ever saw.  Say, Mops, let’s build a fire.”

“What for?  It isn’t cold.”