they had never been to the seaside before, so you can imagine how pleased they were when mr. merryweather said, “i think we will go to the sea this summer, it will do the children good.”

they all began to jump about and get very excited, all except john. john had heard about the sea, but he didn’t quite believe it. so he said to his father:

“when you go to the theathide, do you weally thee the thea?”

all the other children laughed, and mary the eldest, who knew everything, said, “silly, of course you do!”

john kept his eyes on his father, and said, “do you weally?” and his father said, “yes, old boy, you do.” then john gave a great sigh of happiness and said, “i fort perhaps you did.” and he walked round and round the garden, singing, “i’m going to thee the thea!{44}”

mary went off with her mother to talk about what sort of clothes they would all want. mary was ten; and when you are ten and the eldest, almost everything depends upon you. john was three and the youngest, and sometimes mary was not quite sure whether she was john’s mother or not. if you could have two mothers, then she was one of them.

“the great question,” said mr. merryweather next day, “is, where shall we go?”

john looked at him as if he could hardly believe. “i fort we were going to the thea,” he said, almost crying.

“silly, of course we are,” said mary. “but there are lots of places by the sea. let’s go to a place where there are heaps of lovely shells.”

“and sand,” said margaret.

“and rocks,” said joan. “and pools.”

“shells—sand—rocks—pools,{45}” wrote mr. merryweather on his cuff. “anything else?”

john tried to speak once or twice, but nothing happened.

“yes, darling?” said his mother.

“thea,” said john faintly.

“and sea,” wrote mr. merryweather. “and what do you want, stephen?”

stephen was four. he thought a good deal, but never said anything, so if it hadn’t been for joan, nobody would ever have known what he wanted.

“stephen wants the same as me, don’t you, stephen?” said joan quickly.

stephen nodded. he was thinking of something else.

on the monday they all went off. as soon as they got out at the station, mr. merryweather said, “i can smell the sea,” and mary said, “so can i,” but she couldn’t really. john very nearly cried again, because{46} he thought the sea was something you saw, not just something you smelt, but mary told him that to-morrow after breakfast he would really see it, wouldn’t he, mother? and mrs. merryweather said, yes, it was too late now; better wait till to-morrow.

so they waited till to-morrow. as soon as they had finished breakfast, and they were all too excited to eat much (except stephen, who could think just as well, whether he was eating or whether he wasn’t), mary took them out. mr. merryweather stayed behind to read his paper, and mrs. merryweather stayed behind to see about dinner, because they knew they could trust mary. joan and stephen walked in front, joan chattering to stephen, and stephen thinking; then came margaret, talking eagerly over her shoulder to mary; and then came mary holding john’s hand, and saying, “we’re nearly there, dear.{47}”

suddenly they turned the corner, and there they were.

mary said proudly: “there, darling, there’s the sea.”

margaret said: “isn’t it lovely?”

joan said: “oh, look, stephen!”

stephen said nothing, of course.

and john opened his mouth to say something, turned very red, and burst into tears.

they were all very sorry for john—except stephen, who was thinking of something else. the worst of it was that none of them knew what was the matter with him. had he had too much breakfast? or too little? was he tired? would he like margaret to take him back? john couldn’t tell them. he didn’t know.

“what would you like to do, darling?” said mary. “shall we pick some lovely shells?”

john sniffed and nodded.{48}

they went on to the beach. there were many other children there, but they were much too happy to take any notice of the merryweather family.

“now,” said mary, “let’s see who can find the prettiest shell. oh, look at this one!”

“oh, and this one, mary!” said margaret.

“well put them in my bag,” said mary. “would you like to hold the bag, darling?”

“yeth,” said john meekly. afraid to look at it again, he stood with his back to the sea, and dropped the shells into the bag as they were given to him. why had the sea made him cry like that? he didn’t know. perhaps stephen....

he looked at stephen.

no, it was no good asking stephen.