Barzilla Ball came ashore in a dory from his _Snatch It_ that lay at her moorings in the well protected harbour--almost the last double-ender to be built at the island and still in commission. As her description implied, she was as sharp at one end as she was at the other. Barzilla halted to speak to Carolyn and Prince, and thereby became acquainted with Mrs. Cameron. He was a pleasant young man with more than ordinary intelligence. "You'll be coming over to the West Side to see us, you and the little girl, now your friends are with my sister," the fisherman said. "We'll be proud to have you come." "Thank you, Mr. Ball. I shall find some means of getting to your house, I have no doubt. Carolyn considers it quite the nicest house she has ever seen, and wants to live in one situated just like it--right over the ocean." "Yes. Great-gran'ther Ball built it so's he'd be sure to hear the surf and know when the wind changed at night. I wonder if he wasn't hard o' hearing?" said Barzilla, smiling. "Sometimes the sea cuts up so we can't hear ourselves think." "But, dear me!" said Carolyn May, "how handy it is to go bathing. All you have to do, I guess, Mamma, is to jump out of the window in your bathing suit, and there you are!" "There you would be, or thereabout," chuckled the fisherman. "So, your daddy is coming on the _Shinnecock_ today, is he?" The gaze of Carolyn's eyes scarcely left the steamboat that was now coming through the breach. She nodded joyfully. "Oh, yes!" she said. "He is coming. And he will bring us things. And we'll go walking. And he'll buy picture post-cards. Why, there's just loads and _loads_ of folks I want to send them to." There were a number of summer people gathered at the dock when the boat made her landing. The hotel vehicles came racing over from the Old Harbour where the Newport boat had already landed her passengers. Mr. Cameron had been waving to Carolyn and her mother, and to Prince, from the upper deck with his paper, and he was now one of the first ashore. He carried a good-sized hamper, as well as his bag. And how glad Carolyn was to see him! "Dear me, Papa Cameron," she declared, "it seems almost as though I'd grown up since I saw you. Don't I _look_ different?" "I would scarcely have known you, Snuggy, if you had not been with mamma and Prince," he told her with gravity. "And my! you look almost like a red Indian. Are you sure, mamma, that you haven't changed our Carolyn May for an Indian papoose?" "'Papoose!' How very ridiculous!" laughed the little girl. "Why, a papoose is an Indian baby, and they keep them strapped to a board and carry them on their backs like soldiers do knapsacks. And they never cry." "Who never cry? The knapsacks or the soldiers?" demanded her father, looking very much surprised. "The papooses never cry. You know soldiers don't cry, Papa Cameron," admonished Carolyn May.