“Oh dear!  Only a week more, and then we must go back.  Don’t you hate the thoughts of it?” said Jack, as he was giving Jill her early walk on the beach one August morning.

“Yes, it will be dreadful to leave Gerty and Mamie and all the nice people.  But I’m so much better I won’t have to be shut up again, even if I don’t go to school.  How I long to see Merry and Molly.  Dear things, if it wasn’t for them I should hate going home more than you do,” answered Jill, stepping along quite briskly, and finding it very hard to resist breaking into a skip or a run, she felt so well and gay.

“Wish they could be here to-day to see the fun,” said Jack, for it was the anniversary of the founding of the place, and the people celebrated it by all sorts of festivity.

“I did want to ask Molly, but your mother is so good to me I couldn’t find courage to do it.  Mammy told me not to ask for a thing, and I’m sure I don’t get a chance.  I feel just as if I was your truly born sister, Jack.”

“That’s all right, I’m glad you do,” answered Jack, comfortably, though his mind seemed a little absent and his eyes twinkled when she spoke of Molly.  “Now, you sit in the cubby-house, and keep quiet till the boat comes in.  Then the fun will begin, and you must be fresh and ready to enjoy it.  Don’t run off, now, I shall want to know where to find you by and by.”

“No more running off, thank you.  I’ll stay here till you come, and finish this box for Molly; she has a birthday this week, and I’ve written to ask what day, so I can send it right up and surprise her.”

Jack’s eyes twinkled more than ever as he helped Jill settle herself in the boat, and then with a whoop he tore over the beach, as if practising for the race which was to come off in the afternoon.

Jill was so busy with her work that time went quickly, and the early boat came in just as the last pink shell was stuck in its place.  Putting the box in the sun to dry, she leaned out of her nook to watch the gay parties land, and go streaming up the pier along the road that went behind the bank that sheltered her.  Flocks of children were running about on the sand, and presently strangers appeared, eager to see and enjoy all the delights of this gala-day.

“There’s a fat little boy who looks ever so much like Boo,” said Jill to herself, watching the people and hoping they would not come and find her, since she had promised to stay till Jack returned.

The fat little boy was staring about him in a blissful sort of maze, holding a wooden shovel in one hand and the skirts of a young girl with the other.  Her back was turned to Jill, but something in the long brown braid with a fly-away blue bow hanging down her back looked very familiar to Jill.  So did the gray suit and the Japanese umbrella; but the hat was strange, and while she was thinking how natural the boots looked, the girl turned round.

“Why, how much she looks like Molly!  It can’t be—­yes, it might, I do believe it is!” cried Jill, starting up and hardly daring to trust her own eyes.