Chapter II: Part 2

“Early to bed, early to rise, and you can catch the first train in the morning,” said Mr. Merrill as they came in from a little stroll through the gayly lighted park that same evening. “And I really think that you folks better forget about me for a few days and go on with your sightseeing by yourselves. The first train for St. Augustine leaves at nine in the morning and you can have lots more fun there than here where everything is more citified.”

“But, Dadah,” said Mary Jane, “will there be flowers there and warm weather and everything just the same?”

“Not a thing the same,” replied Mr. Merrill teasingly; “there’ll be more flowers and more warm weather and more palm trees and more fun for girls and lots more chance to play.”

“Then let’s go and you come as soon as you get through your business, Dadah,” said Mary Jane.

So after an early breakfast and a brisk walk through the interesting markets, Mrs. Merrill, Alice and Mary Jane got aboard the fine “Special” train that went down the east coast.

The very first stop, some two hours later, was their station, and the minute Mary Jane got off she felt a pang of disappointment. All there was to see was a row of funny busses, a narrow parkway of flowers and palms and then fields--just plains, fields or vacant lots and not an interesting thing anywhere. But a ride of a mile in one of the busses made a change. They came to the little town of St. Augustine (“It doesn’t grow near the railroad, this town doesn’t,” Mary Jane afterwards explained to her father, “because railroads are so very now-a-days!”) and that was quaint and pretty enough to delight any little girl.

After they had taken their bags to their big, sunny room, changed their traveling clothes for cool, summer dresses, low shoes and parasols, they went down to inspect their new home. It seemed like moving into fairyland--living in that hotel did--and Mary Jane had to pinch herself three or four times to make sure that she, really truly _she_ was to live in that beautiful place for several days. There were gardens, oh, beautiful gardens full of gay flowers, and brooks and bridges right in the garden--inside the house! And on the bridge in the center of the garden, stood a little girl just about Mary Jane’s age--a little girl who looked all the world as though she would like a playmate.

“May I go and talk to her now?” asked Mary Jane.

“Perhaps we’d better have lunch first,” suggested Mrs. Merrill, glancing at her watch. “Who’d have guessed it was nearly one o’clock!”

“I could have guessed that as easy as pie,” said Alice, “because I’m starved.”

“You won’t be long,” said Mrs. Merrill, laughingly, “because you’ll find lots to eat here.” And they went toward the dining room.

“Now where would you like to sit?” asked the pompous head waiter as he escorted Mary Jane, who happened to be leading her family, to a seat.

“If you’d just as soon,” replied Mary Jane politely, “I’d like to sit at the table where there’s the most to eat. And Alice would like to sit there too, ’cause she’s always just as hungry as I am. And mother’ll have to sit there if we do ’cause she belongs to us.”

“Then this is the very place for you,” said the head waiter, as with twinkling eyes he pulled out three chairs at a cosy window table. “These little girls,” he added to their waiter, “are to have all they can eat whether it’s early or late.”

“I think we’re going to like this place, Mother,” said Mary Jane happily, as she unfolded her napkin, while the waiter went to get their menu cards, “’cause they seem to like _us_.”

They had a royal luncheon, ending with two kinds of ice cream and a promise from the waiter of another still different sort for evening dinner.

After luncheon they took a little walk through the “square,” enjoying the gay shops and the curious houses and trees.

“Isn’t this the place where the ‘Fountain of Youth’ is?” said Alice as she looked up from a window full of pictures. “That looks like the picture of it in my geography.”

“Oh, I know all about the Fountain of Youth!” exclaimed Mary Jane happily. “Miss Lynn told us about it in kindergarten. Is _this_ it?”

“Not right here,” replied Mrs. Merrill, “but only a mile or two outside the city. Suppose we hail one of those pretty little surreys and ride out there. I know you girls will like that and I love riding in those little fringed surreys--they make me feel so gay.”

A few steps farther on they came across an empty surrey, driven by a man who was plainly of Spanish descent and who seemed very glad to have passengers who would like to hear his stories of the founding of the little town.

Before they drove out to the “Fountain of Youth,” he took them through a few of the little streets of the town and told them stories about the houses and stores they passed. Then they turned northward and drove past the city gates, the forts and the old cemetery toward the spring the girls were so anxious to see.

“But, Mother!” exclaimed Alice, as they drew up in front of a rather dilapidated, low building, “_this_ isn’t it! I know what it looks like from the picture and it’s nothing like this.”

“This is the ‘Fountain of Youth’ all the same,” answered Mrs. Merrill. “Those pictures that are used so much were taken years ago when there was an open pavilion over the spring. In recent years it has been housed in as you see it now. You won’t be disappointed with the inside though--it’s as curious and interesting as ever. Come in and get a drink.”

Mary Jane and Alice followed her down three narrow steps, through a low doorway and into a dim room. At first they couldn’t see anything interesting but as they looked about longer they changed their minds. Bubbling out of the ground, almost at their feet, was a little spring--the very same spring that the Spaniard, Ponce de Leon, had discovered over three hundred years ago.

“But, Mother,” objected Mary Jane, “couldn’t he see that this was just a common, every-day spring and that it was just so ordinary this way?”

“Oh, it didn’t look ordinary to him, you may be sure,” said Mrs. Merrill. “You must remember that he had landed after a long, long sea voyage and fresh water, bubbling from the ground, looked more than usually good. Then all this place where we are standing was a forest of bloom--thousands of flowers he had never before seen were here and it must have looked very lovely and magical to him.”

“Yes, that would make a difference,” admitted Alice.

“Then, too,” continued Mrs. Merrill, “even before he came here, the Indians had a legend that this was a magic well and he who drank thereof would never die. That, I think, is because it is a mineral spring and the water tastes different from most spring water. Try it yourselves and see.” And then as the girls filled their cups she added, “So you can hardly blame the stranger if he thought he had found the spring of youth he had set out to locate, can you?”

The girls made faces over the water--they didn’t like the taste a bit. “I know why he called it the ‘Fountain of Youth,’” laughed Alice as she tried to finish her cupful. “He had to call it something interesting or folks would never drink it!”

“What are those stone paths?” asked Mary Jane as she set her cup down.

“Those aren’t paths, little girls,” said the guide who had stood near by. “Those stones make a cross--but such a big cross you hardly notice it at first. See! There are fifteen stones for one part and thirteen for the other. We are told that Ponce de Leon himself laid those here to mark the year he discovered the spring; that was in fifteen-thirteen.”

As they went out from the dimness of the spring house into the warm sunshine, who should they see coming toward them but the little girl Mary Jane had seen that morning on the bridge in the hotel gardens. Mary Jane hung back a minute to speak to her.

“I’m Mary Jane and you live in my house,” she said by way of introduction.

“No,” replied the little girl half shyly; “you live in mine because I lived here first. I’m Ellen. Are you tired?”

“No-o!” answered Mary Jane positively; “what is there to be tired about?”

“It’s such a long way out here,” said Ellen.

Ellen’s mother came up just then and seeing her little girl speaking to the newcomers she added, “We tried to walk out here and I should have known better because it’s much too far for Ellen. But she’ll have to be a brave girl because there’s no other way to get back.”

“There is if you don’t mind being crowded a bit,” suggested Mrs. Merrill hospitably. “We three can sit on the back seat and you and Ellen can sit in front with the driver. We’re just ready to start back now.”

On the way back the two ladies chatted and found they had many mutual friends, and the little girls planned to play together as soon as they got home. At the suggestion of Ellen’s mother, Mrs. Berry, they stopped at an orange orchard and saw the funny little stoves that are set among the trees to keep the orchard warmer in a cold spell. Mary Jane thought those little stoves the queerest things she’d seen yet.

“You tell me when I leave the door open at home, Mother,” she said, “that I must be trying to warm the whole out of doors and here they really do it!” “So they do,” agreed Mrs. Merrill; “only you see we haven’t an orchard to use the heat up our way!”

The owner of the orchard gave each girl an orange and was so nice to them, showing them around and letting the girls pick fruit and take pictures, that they could hardly bear to leave.

“I think,” said Mary Jane as they climbed into the little surrey, “that when I’m big I’ll have me an orange orchard and let little girls come to see me and give ’em fruit-- I think that’s an awfully nice business, I do.”

It was almost dinner time when they got back to the hotel; no time for play then. But after dinner Mary Jane took down her Marie Georgannamore and Ellen brought her best doll, Fifi, and the two little girls sat out on the terrace in great big comfy chairs and played together till after eight o’clock. Then Mrs. Merrill came out to take Mary Jane upstairs.

“You’ll have to go to sleep as quickly as ever you can,” she said, “because I know an awfully jolly surprise that’s coming to-morrow. Coming if a certain little girl I’m acquainted with gets to sleep.”

“Is it something to play?” guessed Mary Jane.

“No guesses--not even one,” answered Mrs. Merrill, “and I’ll tell you only this much. It’s very jolly; and you’ve often wanted to do it; and you’ve never done it before in all your life.”

“WHOA! PLEASE WHOA!”

“Now do we do it?” asked Mary Jane’s eager little voice; “this is to-day!”

“Sure enough it is,” said Mrs. Merrill, sleepily. She looked over to Mary Jane’s bed and saw that a certain young person was wide awake and was sitting up straight and tall in her bed which stood right in the path of the sunshine.

“Yes it is, Mother,” added Mary Jane, fearful that her mother wasn’t really waked up yet; “see the sun? And you know this is the day when the surprise comes. Do we have it now?”

“Dear me, no,” said Mrs. Merrill, “how could we? See, Alice is sound asleep and none of us are dressed and the surprise is for three folks--three folks who are in this room.”

“Don’t worry about Alice,” said Mary Jane gayly; “I’ll get her up!” And with that threat she jumped out of bed and pulled the light covers off her sister. “Come on, Alice,” she cried; “you can sleep at home! Let’s get up and do the surprise.”

“Will I like it, Mother?” asked Alice and, luckily, she was too interested in the surprise to mind that the covers had been pulled off.

“Will you?” exclaimed Mrs. Merrill. “You just wait and see! You’ve been wanting to do this very thing for years and years and years.”

“Then let’s get dressed quick,” said Alice; “who’s going to tub first, Mary Jane?”

“Not too fast there, my dears,” said Mrs. Merrill; “the surprise doesn’t come till eleven o’clock.”

“MOTHER!” exclaimed both girls as though in one breath. And Mary Jane added, “Do we have to wait _all that time_?”

“Well,” said Mrs. Merrill practically, as she glanced at her watch, “I wouldn’t call that such a hopelessly long time if I were you. It’s after seven now and nobody’s even started to dress. Of course you don’t want any breakfast,” she added teasingly, “but--”

“Of course we _do_, you mean, Mother,” laughed Alice; “I hope the surprise won’t interfere with eating--I wouldn’t like that.”

“Well then,” continued Mrs. Merrill, “if we have to dress and eat and maybe take a little walk to look at the shops and maybe do something else I know we _could_ do--and it’s nice, too--I think it’s a pretty good thing the surprise doesn’t come till eleven.”

When the girls sat down to the breakfast table a half an hour later they were glad they had plenty of leisure to enjoy their meal for such fruit, such fish and such delicious Southern biscuit they never had eaten before.

“I just wish there was two of me, one named Mary and one named Jane,” said Mary Jane, as she eyed the plate of biscuits and the honey regretfully, “’cause then one of me could eat some more. But seeing I’m just one all together, I can’t!”

“I think it’s time for a walk anyway,” said Mrs. Merrill. “You know we didn’t have a chance to look at all those nice little shops yesterday and that’s sure to be fun.”

And it was. The girls and their mother too, enjoyed poking about in the little sidewalk shops that lined the main street and they saw many pretty things they thought of taking home to Grandmother Hodges or some friend.

“Mother!” exclaimed Alice suddenly, “see that clock? It’s only quarter before ten and the surprise doesn’t come till eleven. _How_ are we going to wait all that time?”

“We’re not,” said Mrs. Merrill, as she made a sudden plan; “we’re going swimming.”

“Swimming!” exclaimed Mary Jane; “where’s the lake?”

“Wait and see,” replied Mrs. Merrill and she led the way back to their hotel. Mary Jane supposed they must be going back for bathing suits but not so. They didn’t go to their room; they went down a long hallway and up some stairs and along another hall. And by that time, Mary Jane heard noises that sounded exactly like the sounds folks make when they are in swimming and having a jolly time.

“Why, Mother!” she said in amazement, “do they keep the swim in the house down here?”

“Sounds like it, doesn’t it?” answered Mrs. Merrill and she stopped at a window long enough to buy three tickets, one pink and two blue. “Sounds exactly like it--let’s look.” And she led them through a doorway.

Such a sight as the girls saw then, they never had imagined! In a great room, surrounded with balconies on which folks walked and danced and played, was a large tank of beautifully clear water. And in this tank some fifty or more folks were swimming and playing. At one end the children played and swam and at the other end the big folks who evidently could swim better or walk in deeper water were enjoying themselves.

Mary Jane took a long breath as she looked in amazement about her, then she said, “Come on, Mother! Let’s do it too!”

“Oh, may we?” exclaimed Alice rapturously; “will they let us?”

“That’s what our tickets are for,” explained Mrs. Merrill. “And we dress right down in these nice dressing rooms at this end.”

Five minutes later the two girls, with their mother close behind, were gingerly stepping into the water as it lapped on the marble steps at the end of the pool. Mary Jane anxiously watched the first touch of the water, then a happy expression came over her face and she exclaimed, “It isn’t cold and it isn’t hot, Mother. It’s just like I am.”

Of course Mary Jane didn’t know how to swim but both Alice and Mrs. Merrill could swim a little and they took turns holding Mary Jane’s chin and showing her how it was done. Mary Jane had no trouble getting her feet up--she got them up so far out of the water that her swimming was more splashing than swimming but it was fun for them all just the same. Nobody thought a bit about time till suddenly Alice looked at the great clock that was at one end of the pool.

“Mother!” she cried, “it’s quarter to eleven!”

“Goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Merrill; “we’ll have to fly for they’ll be out in front promptly at eleven.”

“Who’ll be?” asked Mary Jane.

“Wait and see,” teased Mrs. Merrill as she drippingly made her way up the steps and toward the dressing rooms.

Nobody took long to primp that time and at five minutes to eleven they were leaving the Casino.

“That’s plenty of time,” said Alice comfortably.

“Well, none too much,” said Mrs. Merrill doubtfully, “because I have to go up to the room and change my skirt.”

“Why, Mother,” said Alice, “that’s a nice one you have on.”

“Just so,” laughed Mrs. Merrill, “too nice. Let’s see, have you both your gingham bloomers on this morning--I forgot to notice. Yes, you have. Then you don’t need to change. You may wait for me here.” And she hurried off toward the elevator.

Soon she was back, wearing an old denim skirt that the girls didn’t remember ever seeing. They thought it an awfully queer looking thing but had no time to ask questions because she hurried them right out through the garden.

Through the garden, past the hedges and there--right by the leafy gate--all saddled and bridled and ready to go, stood three of the prettiest little ponies the girls had ever seen!

“Oh! I know! I know! I know!” shouted Alice; “we’re going to take a pony ride.”

“Goody! Goody! Goody! I’m glad I’m me!” cried Mary Jane and she danced up and down and clapped her hands so hard that the man who was holding the ponies laughed and laughed.

“So you really think it will be fun?” asked Mrs. Merrill, happily, as both girls, with never a thought that they were on the street, nearly smothered her with a great bear hug; “well, I think so too. So let’s be off. See, the ponies are pawing to go.”

First they decided which pony Mary Jane should ride. The groom put her on one, but he seemed most too big so she was changed to another. Then Alice was lifted up onto hers.

“Don’t bother about me,” said Mrs. Merrill, “I can manage very well with this stone. Please start off with the girls.” So the groom trotted after the girls whose ponies were walking briskly toward the market place.

When Mrs. Merrill caught up with them, she suggested that they turn south, down the quiet, narrow street at the right, as the main street seemed too crowded for even safe ponies when they were ridden by folks who had never been pony-back before. So they rode a few blocks past quaint old Spanish houses and gardens--which the girls didn’t even glance at!--then east past the old barracks and south to the open country. By the time they had ridden a couple of miles the girls were getting “on to” the knack of sitting straight and of holding their reins and guiding their steeds, so the groom suggested that they go west, around the village and ride around the old fort at the north.

“Can you canter, Miss?” he asked Alice, who was riding very well for a novice.

The pony must have caught the word for he hurried off and Alice answered over her shoulder, “I-I-I did-d-n’t-t know-ow it b-b-but I-I-I c-c-can!”

Mary Jane’s pony, seeing his mate start off so gayly, thought he must be left behind so he started cantering too--much to Mary Jane’s dismay.

“Whoa! Please whoa!” shouted Mary Jane with more politeness than success. The pony paid no attention to her! He cantered along rapidly a half a block and then, spying a bit of choice green in a vacant lot, turned suddenly in and began to eat.

“Hold on, dear!” called Mrs. Merrill reassuringly, as she hurried up behind her little girl; “hold on and you’ll be all right.”

“I’m a-holdin’,” replied Mary Jane breathlessly; “when I go riding I don’t let him leave me, ’deed I don’t!” and she clutched at the lines with all her might. But evidently the pony had had no thought of running away. He liked his eating so much that it took a hard pull on the lines by the groom to make him raise his head and start on again.

For a little while the groom rode close by Mary Jane and held on to the lines and Mrs. Merrill rode ahead with Alice. But the pony behaved so very well that soon Mary Jane held her own reins again and proudly rode all around the fort and back to the hotel.

“Oh, that was fun!” exclaimed Alice with a sigh of pure joy and satisfaction as she was lifted off her pony.

“I think I’d like to ride every day,” said Mary Jane; “I like a pony that runs and eats and takes me riding. Do they have ponies other places?” And then, as Mrs. Merrill paid the groom and led the girls back to the hotel, Mary Jane added, “Now what do we do next?”

LUNCHEON BY THE OLD WELL

But by the time she had had her luncheon, Mary Jane began to realize that a long swim, or trying at swimming, and a pony ride of an hour was almost enough for a little girl to do in one day. And when, as they came from the dining room, she saw Ellen running toward her with her French doll in her arms, Mary Jane was willing to promise to “play dolls” in the courtyard garden all afternoon. Alice wanted to take a few pictures in the gardens and write letters and send postals to her friends at home, and Mrs. Merrill had letters and a bit of mending, so the afternoon spent in the sunshine of the inner garden passed very quickly.

Next morning, as they were coming out from the dining room after breakfast, Mrs. Merrill stopped a few minutes to talk with the steward and the girls knew immediately that something nice was coming.

“What do you think,” she asked as she joined them a minute later, “of having a picnic luncheon to-day? Remember that pretty street we rode south on yesterday? All those old Spanish houses were built years and years ago. The queer one, that has no garden in front, is supposed to be the oldest house in America. When I was here before the kind lady who takes care of the place sometimes let folks eat their luncheon in the garden by the old well. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Of course it would be jolly and both Alice and Mary Jane were eager to be off.

“Let’s go down that same street we rode on, Mother,” suggested Alice, “because when we were riding we didn’t see a thing but the ponies and the road and I’d like to see everything--every single thing, in this nice old town.”

“Very well,” agreed Mrs. Merrill, “that’s what we’ll do. Our luncheon will be ready in a very little while. Let’s get our mail and tell Ellen that Mary Jane can’t play this morning and I expect by that time it will be waiting for us.”

Sure enough! By the time all necessary errands were finished the steward came to the lobby with the luncheon all neatly packed in a nice box.

“And if that isn’t enough,” he said, with a glance in Mary Jane’s direction, “maybe I can get the little ladies some ice cream when they come back this afternoon.”

Mrs. Merrill and Mary Jane agreed to carry the lunch box between them--a block a-piece--because Alice had her camera to look after. They stopped just long enough to buy a new roll of films at the nearest shop and then they set off down the pretty, narrow, old street.

The many palm trees, which Mary Jane insisted on calling “trees with trimming on the top,” the gay poinsettias which bloomed everywhere and the crimson and yellow blossoms on the vines which covered porches and hedges made the street look very beautiful. Mary Jane had to pinch herself two or three times again to make sure that she really was awake! She simply couldn’t realize that up at home her playmates were making snow forts and going to school.

“I think it’s funny,” said Alice thoughtfully, “why folks stay up north at all in the winter. Why doesn’t everybody move south when it gets cold and then go back home in the spring?”

“Sounds sensible,” laughed Mrs. Merrill, “and really very bird-like. But just think of all you’d miss! Snow at Christmas time, skating, you know how you love to skate, and coasting and fireside fun--oh, you’d miss a lot!”

“I guess I would,” admitted Alice, “but I do love the flowers! Wait a minute, Mother,” she added; “I want to get a picture of that vine. See how it covers the house?” Mary Jane had gone on a few steps ahead, but Mrs. Merrill, feeling sure the little girl was safe on that quiet street, waited till Alice took the picture. But when they walked on Mary Jane was not to be seen. Had she turned the corner? No, for Mrs. Merrill hurried to look and no girl was in sight. Had she gone into one of the gardens? Surely not, for Mary Jane would never think of going into any one’s yard without an invitation. Alice shut up her camera and hurriedly began to help hunt. Mrs. Merrill was just beginning to feel a little anxious when she heard Mary Jane’s voice, close by, just inside the hedge, say, “But please, first I have to tell my mother.” Mrs. Merrill dashed into the yard, Alice close behind her, and both stood as though petrified with amazement.

At the foot of the steps leading from the house stood a woman dressed in the gorgeous long robes worn in Spain long years ago. By her side stood a Spanish courtier of olden days, apparently just about to kneel and kiss her hand. And, most astonishing of all, just back of the lady stood Mary Jane, her eyes round with excitement and delight.

“Mary Jane!” cried Mrs. Merrill, “what are you doing? Where are you? How did you come in here?”

“Through the gate just like you did, Mother,” replied Mary Jane, answering the last question first, “and I came because he asked me to, he did.” And she pointed her finger at a man who stood at Mrs. Merrill’s left.

“The little girl is right,” said the man as he stepped up to Mrs. Merrill, “and I must ask your pardon for the fright we seem to have caused you. But I do beg of you to let us borrow your daughter for about five minutes more--we have such need of her.”

Mrs. Merrill looked around the yard and saw what she had been too excited before to notice. In the front of the yard, close by the hedge, was a moving picture camera, and by it two men working under the director who was speaking to her.

“Let me explain,” continued the man. “We are making a picture supposably taken in Spain--not a hard thing to imagine with all these Spanish houses and gardens around here,--and this lady is supposed to be a queen. But at the last minute, just as we were ready to run the picture through, the lady” (and he pointed to the courtly dressed woman by the steps) “wanted some ladies or children-in-waiting to carry her train. We have the robes but not the people here and I have to get the picture done to-day. That explains why, when I looked out of the garden and saw your daughter I ventured to borrow her a minute. If we may use her long enough to throw a robe over her and get the picture of the queen so attended walking down the walk, I’ll be very glad.”

Mrs. Merrill was just about to refuse for she had no desire to have Mary Jane in a movie, when Alice nudged her and whispered, “Mother! Couldn’t I be in it too?”

The director noticed the whisper and guessed what she was saying. “We’d like to have this little girl too,” he said; “we have plenty of clothes for two and I’m sure if one train bearer is good, two will be better--isn’t that so, Miss Arlson?”

The pretty lady in the queen’s robe nodded and smiled and said she must have two maids, so the director hurried away to get the costumes. In a jiffy he was back and with two or three deft touches he tossed a robe over each girl, covered Mary Jane’s bobbed hair and Alice’s braids with lace head-dresses and showed them where to stand behind the queen.

Then with a hurried “click, click, click, click, click, click!” the picture was taken and every one began to move about and talk. The girls almost hated to give up their pretty costumes and Mary Jane remarked as the director took hers off, “Those would make awfully nice ‘dress-up clothes’ I think!”

“Do you like to play dress-up?” asked the man.

“’Deed we do!” exclaimed Mary Jane heartily; “we like it most the best of anything!”

“Then you take these head-dresses you wore and keep them with my compliments,” he said, and that is how it happened that two fine and interesting bits of Spanish lace were taken home from the southern trip.

“Mother!” exclaimed Alice when they were out on the street again, “did you ever hear of such fun? And to think it happened to _us_!”

“Being in a movie!” cried Mary Jane, “and riding a pony and swimming in a house--why just everything’s happening to us! If Dadah doesn’t come with us pretty soon there won’t be anything left in the world to do.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” laughed Mrs. Merrill; “I know two or three things left in the world to do. And it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if you’d do them some day. But the thing we’re doing right now, is seeing the oldest house in the United States. Alice, will you pound the knocker?”

They stopped short and there, sure enough, they had come to the queer, old house they had set out to see. Alice stepped up on the doorsill and awesomely pounded at the brass knocker. A pleasant faced old lady opened the door and peered out at them.

“Why, don’t I know you?” she asked as she spied Mrs. Merrill.

“I hoped you’d remember,” replied Mrs. Merrill, “though I don’t see how you do when you see so many folks every year. And I hoped you’d let my girls and me eat lunch by the old well as I did years ago.”

“Indeed I will that,” said the old lady cordially, “and they may pick flowers in my garden, too, though that’s something very few folks are allowed to do. But first they want to see the house.”

She took them all over the house, up stairs and down, and such a lot of quaint, queer old things the girls had never seen. Candle sticks hundreds of years old, cradles, dishes, andirons, pitchers, dresses, chairs, sewing baskets, spinning wheels, looms, knitting racks, tables, rugs--everything that one could think of as interesting and old seemed to be crowded into that one small house. Mary Jane looked and looked and looked till everything she saw seemed a confusion of queer old things.

“I think I’d better stop looking, Mother,” she said finally, “’cause the looks get all mixed up in my head.”

“You’re right, Mary Jane,” said Mrs. Merrill sympathetically, “I’m getting tired looking myself. Let’s go out into the garden and eat our luncheon.”

Nobody, looking at the outside of the house, would have even guessed of the lovely garden behind the wall. There was an old well with its windlass and sweep, several gnarled old trees and shrubs and bushes and flowers in every corner. The little old lady was persuaded to come out into the sunshine and share the luncheon with them and she told them, while they ate, tales of the many famous folks who had visited this very same garden and picnicked by this very same well.

Then, after they had finished eating, she showed Mary Jane how folks, years ago, used to draw water from that same old well.

“I think it’s lots more fun to get water out of a well this way than to turn on a faucet,” said Mary Jane as she tried the windlass herself and drew up a brimming bucket.

“But what would you think,” asked Mrs. Merrill, “of getting up early in the morning and coming out to draw the water for your bath?”

“Well,” said Mary Jane doubtfully, “I’d think that would be different.”

“I guess it would be,” laughed Alice, “I know I’d think so!”

“Now I must get back to my work,” said the little lady. “But make yourselves at home here. And remember, the girls may pick flowers if they wish.” And she went back into the house.

Alice was happy at the chance to pick a few flowers as she had wanted to make a collection of pressed flowers that would include every variety they saw on their trip. And in this one garden she found a sample of every single sort she had seen thus far and two or three new kinds besides. She took pictures of the garden and of Mary Jane at the well and then it was time to go.

As they walked back under the palm trees to the hotel Mary Jane said, “I think I’d like to live in this place all winter.”

“I’d like that myself,” said Mrs. Merrill, “but we can’t. To-morrow morning, bright and early, we’ll be going on. And if you ask me, I’ll tell you that there’s even more fun at the next place we go to--think of that!”

A DAY ON THE BEACH

It was with great reluctance that Alice and Mary Jane accompanied their mother into the bus that was to drive them to the station the next morning. They had had so much fun in the three full days they had spent at dear old St. Augustine that it simply didn’t seem possible there _could_ be as good a time waiting any place else. It was a comfort though, to know that they might stop a day or two more at the old Spanish city on their way home. Mrs. Merrill was trying to plan it that way in the hope that Mr. Merrill could meet them there and have some of the fun with them. And that was the reason why they had saved the old fort till the next visit; Mrs. Merrill felt sure that Mr. Merrill could show the girls the wonders and traditions of the old place better than she could.

As the train sped southward through forests and fields Mary Jane forgot all about being sorry to leave St. Augustine and began to make plans for the new visit.

“What’s the name of the place we’re going to next, Mother,” she asked as they settled themselves cosily on the big observation platform, “and what we going to do when we get there?”

“We’re going to Daytona now, dear,” replied Mrs. Merrill, “and if this fine weather keeps up you’ll have a chance to swim in the really truly ocean to-morrow.”

“Couldn’t we do it to-day?” asked Alice who loved swimming.

“Not very well,” answered her mother. “You see, Daytona isn’t on the ocean. It’s on a river that runs in from the ocean--I call it a river though it really is more of a long, slim bay. The beach where you’ll go swimming is a long way from the hotel where we will stop and to-day I think we’d better get a bit acquainted with Daytona. You’ll like it I know.”

And Mary Jane did like it very much. She liked it from the first minute she stepped from the train into the bus that was waiting to take them to the small hotel where rooms were reserved for them. She loved the broad, modern streets--so different from the narrow foreign looking ones that had charmed them at St. Augustine, she loved the many, many beautiful flower beds and the great trees that made the streets look like huge caves of green.

The bus was a bit crowded so the girls sat up on the driver’s seat which they thought was a real lark. This driver was a nice northern boy of eighteen who by some chance had obtained the job of driving the bus for the winter. He told the girls that he had two sisters at home just their ages and that he wished they would ride on the bus with him that afternoon because he got so homesick for his sisters.

After they had their luncheon Alice asked her mother if they could ride. She explained all about what the boy had told them, of course, and said that he had promised they could see the whole of Daytona--every bit--if they went with him that afternoon, because his errands were so scattered. Mrs. Merrill talked with friends who had been some days at the hotel and all spoke so well of the driver that Mrs. Merrill gave her consent. And a very proud and gay pair of little girls perched up on the front seat and drove away about two o’clock.

“Be very careful, girlies,” said Mrs. Merrill, as the engine began to hum; “you know I’ll be right here if you want anything. And Mary Jane, you must do what Alice says for she’s always so good to you. Have a fine time!”

Tom surely did take them all over the town. They went down south first, out into the edge of the country, where they got a man who was to take a two-thirty train. Then they went north to take some folks who came on the same train that took the man away. Then they went east across one of the long bridges and then north and home over another one. Mary Jane liked those bridges. They were so nice and low and long. But that wasn’t all. They were toll bridges and each time an auto went across the driver had to stop at the toll office and pay for the privilege of driving across. Mary Jane had never heard of such a thing before and she thought it awfully funny to pay to ride across a bridge.

By half past four, when Tom brought the girls back, they were old friends; they’d told him all about their trip so far and about their plans for swimming to-morrow. And they really felt very well acquainted with Daytona they had ridden around so much of it.

Bright and early the next morning the Merrills three were up and making ready for the trip to the beach. Mrs. Merrill planned to get their luncheon at the Casino by the bathing beach so there was little to attend to after breakfast. Bathing suits were tucked into a rubber bag and then, as soon as the postman had come with the morning mail, they set out for the beach. The girls were sure they could walk to the beach; it was only about two miles and they wanted to show their mother some of the sights they had seen the day before. And really, with seeing the great palm trees along the river and looking in the shop windows along Main Street and counting the planks on the bridge--Mary Jane was determined to count every board--the walk seemed no distance at all.

It was just about eleven when they reached the bath house and the crowd was already assembling. Such a jolly crowd it was too, very happy, and gay, and full of fun. There were no high waves that day; just nice low ones, actually made for girls who were not used to the big ocean, and Mary Jane and Alice could hardly wait till they got into the water. It wasn’t cold at all--of course it wouldn’t be in that fine, warm sun, and they could safely wade and swim and play on the sand for an hour or more.

After the girls and Mrs. Merrill had been in the water till they were a bit tired, they sat down on the beach, near the water’s edge, to rest awhile. Suddenly Mary Jane screamed. “Ugh! Mother! Look! See that funny bug!”

“Pooh!” exclaimed Alice laughingly, “it isn’t a bug! It’s a crawdad!”

“But look,” cried Mary Jane; “he’s gone!”

To be sure! Even as Mary Jane was watching him, the queer little crawdad had quickly dug himself a hole in the ground and hidden down in it.

“It’s like magic!” cried Mary Jane; “look! There goes another one!”

“Mary Jane, I’ll tell you what let’s us do!” exclaimed Alice, “let’s find crawdads on the beach and then watch ’em dig in.”

“What’ll we put ’em in when we find ’em?” asked Mary Jane excitedly.

“Oh,” Alice hesitated and looked around, “I know. Put them in here.” She whisked off her rubber bathing cap and made it into a bag shape and ran down nearer the water to find the tiny crabs.

It wasn’t hard to do. Each wave that rolled upon the beach left two or three of the queer little creatures, but one had to grab very quickly for the instant the water receded and left them stranded on the sand, they began to dig themselves in. Mary Jane grabbed at the sand and as fast as she caught a crab she dropped it into Alice’s cap.

“Don’t they make your hands feel funny?” she asked as she held one a second more than she needed to. “I don’t know if I like them and I don’t know if I don’t.”

“Ugh!” exclaimed Alice. “I know I don’t like to hold them but I do like to watch them dig. Come on, sis, we’ve a lot. Let’s go back to mother and let ’em hide.”

They raced back to where Mrs. Merrill had been sitting and dumped their trophies on the sand one at a time. And it really was funny to see those wiggling little crawdads squirm themselves out of sight in the sand in such a jiffy! Just a wiggle, wiggle, wiggle and they were gone--the sand closed up over them as though they had never been there. Mary Jane tried to poke her finger down into the sand and dig them up; but the crawdads were too smart for her and not a one did she find!

“Why don’t you collect some shells to take home,” suggested Mrs. Merrill after awhile; “there are many pretty kinds here.”

“I know it, Mother,” answered Alice, “and I was just going to ask you if we could take any home when Mary Jane found these crawdads. Let’s start now.”

But just at that minute the whistle on the bath house blew for one o’clock--the girls hadn’t guessed it was nearly that late and of course the minute they knew the time they were starving hungry.

“Then let’s take one more dip to get the sand off,” suggested Mrs. Merrill, “before we dress and have lunch. And while our suits dry, you may collect all the shells you are willing to carry.”

Down into the water they ran and just in time too for when they heard a noise they looked up from the water and there, coming quickly to the earth, was a great aeroplane that landed right at the very spot where they had been sitting.

“I do think this is the excitingest beach,” said Mary Jane in an awestruck voice; “first there’s the ocean and then there’s crawdads and then an airship. What do you suppose they’ll have next?”

“Lunch, I hope,” said Alice laughingly, “and I’ll beat you to the bath house to dress for it.”

Later when they had had their good luncheon and were sitting on the veranda of the Casino where they could watch the airship take on a passenger and sail away toward the north for a long flight, Mary Jane remembered about the shells.

“Of course we want to get some,” said Alice; “let’s go now.”

“You girls start while I see about the bath locker,” suggested Mrs. Merrill. “Maybe we can arrange to leave our things here till we come again; then we could carry more shells.”

When she got down to the beach a little later she found that the girls had already collected a great pile of shells from the many there were to be found on the beach.

“You wouldn’t want to take any but perfect ones home, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Merrill; “suppose we spread every shell out where it can be seen. Then we’ll throw all the ones that are not perfect back into the ocean. The others we’ll take home.”

Alice and Mary Jane set to work examining the shells and they found that in their eagerness for collecting they had picked up a good many that were not worth carrying home. So it was quite a respectable sized pile they finally decided they wanted to take.

“There,” said Mary Jane with a sigh of content, when the sorting was finished, “there they are and if it wasn’t ten miles home, I’d be glad we had them.”

“You’ll be glad anyway, dear,” said Mrs. Merrill, “because we’re going to ride home. I ordered a taxi when I was up at the bath house. Here it comes now.”

And sure enough! There it was coming right down by the water to meet them. Mary Jane was sure the wheels would get stuck in the sand; but they didn’t; they didn’t even sink in. They just acted as though that beach was a regular road--which it wasn’t.

It seemed fine to spin home over the beach, across the bridge and down the river street, and by the time home was reached Mary Jane was rested enough to play again. That was a good thing for who should she see on the hotel porch but Ellen, her little friend from St. Augustine.

“Why, Ellen!” she exclaimed as she ran from the taxi to greet her; “how did you get here?”

“On the train and the bus,” said Ellen happily. “And mother’s here too.”

“We came down unexpectedly for two days,” explained Mrs. Berry, “because I found that a dear old friend of mine was here. Can’t we all plan a picnic for to-morrow?” she added. “The girls will like it and I know a beautiful place to go--way down the beach and back into the woods.”

“Oh, goody! Let’s!” exclaimed Mary Jane, dancing happily; “let’s have a picnic or something every day.”

“Seems to me that’s about what you are doing,” laughed Mrs. Merrill, “but I’m ready for more fun.” While the mothers planned the party, the three girls went off to find some fun of their own and to talk of what they would do at the picnic.

AT SEA IN A STORM

There seemed to be a great mystery about that picnic. Mrs. Merrill and Mrs. Berry wouldn’t let the girls help with the baskets and even kind Mrs. Trudy, the hostess at the hotel, merely smiled and put her finger to her lips when the girls asked her what was going on.

“I think we ought to see what they’re taking to eat,” said Ellen as she hung on to the porch railing out in front; “maybe we won’t like it.”

“No danger,” said Alice positively; “mother’s there and she always makes nice lunches.”

“But we ought to see it,” insisted Ellen. “I tell you what let’s do. There’s a window in Aunt Sue’s room” (Aunt Sue was Mrs. Berry’s friend) “that opens onto a roof, a low roof just by the kitchen. I know ’cause we had that room ourselves last year. Let’s climb out the window and peep down into the kitchen.”

“I don’t know if mother’d like us to peek,” replied Mary Jane doubtfully, “but we might climb out on the roof and see if we _could_ peek. And then when we saw if we could we could decide about doing it.”

“Anyway let’s go,” said Ellen, who had no particular scruples about peeking. So they ran up stairs and climbed out of Aunt Sue’s window and sure enough, they could look right down into the kitchen without half trying. They saw Mrs. Merrill standing by a table and Mrs. Berry bending over a basket on a chair, but before they really had time to see what each was doing, Tom came out the kitchen door.

“Say, girls,” he called, “want a ride? I have to go up to the store for paper napkins and your mothers say you may go along.”

“Oh, dear,” said Alice who, being the oldest felt responsible for letting the girls come out on the roof, “but we’re not down ready to go.”

“You will be in a minute,” said Tom laughingly; “watch me.” He went over to the orange tree near by, picked up the ladder that leaned against it and set the ladder up to the side of the house. “There you are, young ladies,” he said proudly; “walk right down!”

“Ugh!” cried Ellen, “I’m scared to.”

“No you’re not,” answered Alice; “it’s fun to climb ladders. Here, let me go first and then I turn around and hold your hand and you won’t be scared a bit.”

Nor was she, for Alice showed her how to go down backwards so she could look up all the time and Ellen thought it so much fun that she wanted to climb up again just for the fun of coming down.

“Not to-day,” said Tom, “for we have to be off. You help Mary Jane, Alice, while I get out the bus. They wanted us to hurry back with the napkins, you know, because they’re almost through packing the picnic basket.”

By the time they came back with the napkins the luncheon was all packed and the three ladies, hatted and ready to go, were sitting on the front porch waiting, so there was no more temptation to peek into the kitchen. In about five minutes the big seven-passenger car that was to take them on the trip, drove up and they all piled in.

“Should we take wraps?” asked Mrs. Merrill at the last minute.

“Wraps!” laughed Mrs. Berry; “look at the sun! We’ll have sunshine all day if I’m any weather guesser.”

Alice, being the oldest girl, sat on the front seat with the driver; Mary Jane and Ellen had the two folding seats in the back and the three ladies had the long back seat to themselves.

“And don’t put your feet into the lunch,” warned Alice, as she leaned back and saw that the precious basket was right between the two little girls.

“Hump!” grunted Mary Jane, “think we want stepped-on lunch? We’re just as particular about the basket as any older body, we are!”

First they drove across the bridge toward the ocean; then they turned and started down the long wide beach.

“We’ll go along here this way for miles and miles,” said the driver to Alice, “and if you watch you’ll see queer things on the beach.”

“Queer things?” questioned Alice; “what kind of things?”

Before the driver had a chance to answer he spied something he wanted the girls to see and with a skid and a whirl he brought the car to a sudden stop right down by the edge of the waves.

“There,” he said, pointing to a lump of something that lay on the sand, “that’s what I mean. I’ll get it for you.” He jumped out of the car, picked up the messy looking thing and handed it to Alice. “It’s a jelly fish,” he explained; “there are lots of them washed up on the beach here. See, this is the way it sails on the water.”