[Illustration: "My dear child! Where were you? We’ve hunted and hunted!"] "Why I was right there," answered Mary Jane, much surprised that they should have been anxious. "I stood up to shake off the sand and I saw some wild flowers back there—see ’em?" she added, pointing to the end of the bath-houses where some sand flowers bloomed on a low lying sand hill back of the beach. "And I thought, ’now I’ll just get some of those and see if Alice wants ’em for her collection.’ So I ran up there and there were so _many_—see how many kinds? And—that’s all! I just picked ’em and then here I am!" Mrs. Merrill thanked all the kind people who had helped hunt for Mary Jane and made a firm resolve (which she likely as not wouldn’t keep) that next time Mary Jane was "lost" she would sit still and wait for the child to come back by herself. For an hour Mary Jane played on the sand. They dug ditches, they "buried" each other and their mother, and finally they shook off the sand and ran to the beach for a final plunge before leaving. After they were dressed, Mary Jane led them up to the sand hill where she had found the flowers, and Alice picked a bloom or two of each kind to press and add to her collection. Dinner never did taste so good as it did that day—surf bathing certainly makes girls hungry and they both enjoyed every bite of the good food Mrs. Bryan set before them. "Now I think we’ll all take a rest for an hour," suggested Mrs. Merrill, "and then, with some folks I met before you girlies woke up this morning, we’ll drive to Portsmouth so you can see the harbor and the beautiful drive along the shore." Promptly at three o’clock they set out, and Mary Jane thought it would take a whole book to tell all the beautiful and wonderful things they saw on that drive. The pine woods that smelled so sweet and good, the rolling golf links here and there, the glimpses of the Isle of Shoals that seemed no distance away, so clear was the air in the afternoon sunshine. "I ’most could reach out and touch ’em!" exclaimed Mary Jane once, and it was hard to believe that the picturesque group of islands were miles away, out in the ocean. The river at Portsmouth, dotted with boats, big and little, the view across into the state of Maine, and the beautiful grounds of a great hotel set high on the bluff overlooking the ocean, all seemed very wonderful. Everywhere were lovely gardens brilliant with bloom and grass so green and fresh, Mary Jane declared it made her want to get out and feel it, for it looked like soft velvet. At Portsmouth they stopped at an old curiosity shop and bought an old-fashioned "knocker" for a souvenir of the drive. "We’ll put it on the door to your room," said Mrs. Merrill, "and then, when you shut the door, folks can knock before they come in. And every time you look at it, you will think of your trip to Rye Beach and to Portsmouth."