"Uncommonly jolly, _I_ should think," responded Fenton. "Dive into the surf and get a lobster, climb into a tree and fetch down a cocoanut--there's your dinner." "A very queer dinner," remarked Maggie, amid renewed merriment. "I never heard that lobsters were fished out of breakers, either," said Flora. "You seem to think it is no work to fight the breakers and climb the cocoanut trees," remarked Mr. Murray. "However, I grant you, it would not occupy a great deal of time. Is your idea of life, that it is useful only for eating purposes?" "It comes to that, pretty much," said the boy. "What do people work for, if it isn't to live! I don't care how they work." "Some people's aim is to get where they will do nothing," said Mr. Murray. "Do you see a bit of a break yonder in the lines of the shore, Miss Flora?" "Is it?--yes, it is the creek!" cried Maggie joyously. "It is the creek. Now you can see it, Flora." It opened fast upon them now as they came near, quite a wide-mouthed little creek, setting in among wooded banks which soon narrowed upon it. Just before they narrowed, an old mill stood by the side of the water, and there were some steps by which one could land. There the boat was made fast, and the little party disembarked, glad after all to feel their feet again; and baskets one after another were handed out. "What is all this cargo?" said Fenton, grumbling; "and who's going to carry it to the top of the hill? Suppose we stay down here?" "And lose all the view?" said Maggie. "And the walk? and the fun?" said Esther. "Fun!" echoed Fenton. "Just take that sack along with you, if you want fun. What ever have you got in it? cannon balls?" "Oysters." "Oysters! In the shell! Why didn't you have them taken out? What's in this basket? this is as bad." "Cups and saucers, and spoons and plates, and such things." "We could have done without them." "How?" "Eat with our fingers." "You had better go to the South Sea Islands, and done with it," said Esther. "Come--you take hold of one side of the basket and I of the other." "No, Essie," said her uncle; "that would be very unchivalrous. Do not ask Fenton such a thing. In the South Sea Islands men may make women do the work for them; but not here. Come, my boy, here are three of us and only a basket apiece; take up your burden and be thankful, and be brave."