We stowed away our baskets and then gave ourselves up to the enjoyment of the lovely Highland scenery, and to watching the various kinds of craft that we were constantly passing. Winnie and Bobsey had been placed under bonds for good behavior, and were given to understand that they must exercise the grace of keeping moderately still. The sail down the river and bay was a long, grateful rest to us older people, and I saw with pleasure that my wife was enjoying every moment, and that the fresh salt breeze was fanning color into her cheeks. Plump Mrs. Jones dozed and smiled, and wondered at the objects we passed, for she had never been much of a traveller; while her husband’s shrewd eyes took in everything, and he often made us laugh by his quaint remarks. Junior and Merton were as alert as hawks. They early made the acquaintance of deckhands who good-naturedly answered their numerous questions. I took the younger children on occasional exploring expeditions, but never allowed them to go beyond my reach, for I soon learned that Bobsey’s promises sat lightly on his conscience.
At last we reached the great Iron Pier at Coney Island, which we all traversed with wondering eyes.
We established ourselves in a large pavilion, fitted up for just such picnic parties as ours. Beneath us stretched the sandy beach. We elderly people were glad enough to sit down and rest, but the children forgot even the lunch baskets, so eager were they to run upon the sand in search of shells.
All went well until an unusually high wave came rolling in. The children scrambled out of its way, with the exception of Bobsey, who was caught and tumbled over, and lay kicking in the white foam. In a moment I sprang down the steps, picked him up, and bore him to his mother.
He was wet through; and now what was to be done?
After inquiry and consultation, I found that I could procure for him a little bathing dress which would answer during the heat of the day, and an old colored woman promised to have his clothing dry in an hour. So the one cloud on our pleasure proved to have a very bright lining, for Bobsey, since he was no longer afraid of the water, could roll in the sand and the gentle surf to his heart’s content.
Having devoured a few sandwiches to keep up our courage, we all procured bathing dresses, even Mrs. Jones having been laughingly compelled by her husband to follow the general example. When we all gathered in the passageway leading to the water, we were convulsed with laughter at our ridiculous appearance; but there were so many others in like plight that we were scarcely noticed. Mrs. Jones’s dress was a trifle small, and her husband’s immensely large. He remarked that if we could now take a stroll through Maizeville, there wouldn’t be a crow left in town.
Mrs. Jones could not be induced to go beyond a point where the water was a foot or two deep, and the waves rolled her around like an amiable porpoise. Merton and Junior were soon swimming fearlessly, the latter wondering, meanwhile, at the buoyant quality of the salt water. My wife, Mousie, and Winnie allowed me to take them beyond the breakers, and soon grew confident. In fifteen minutes I sounded recall, and we all emerged, lank Mr. Jones now making, in very truth, an ideal scarecrow. Bobsey’s dry garments were brought, and half an hour later we were all clothed, and, as Mr. Jones remarked, “For a wonder, in our right minds.”
The onslaught then made on the lunch baskets was never surpassed, even at that place of hungry excursionists. In due time we reached home, tired, sleepy, yet content with the fact that we had filled one day with enjoyment and added to our stock of health.
The next morning proved that Bagley had kept his word. Everything was in order, and the amount of work accomplished in the garden showed that he had been on his mettle. Hungry as we had been, we had not emptied our lunch baskets, and my wife made up a nice little present from what remained, to which was added a package of candy, and all was carried to the Bagley cottage.
Juvenile experiences had not exactly taught the Bagley children that “the way of the transgressor is hard,”—they had not gone far enough for that—and it certainly was our duty to add such flowers as we could to the paths of virtue.
The month of August was now well advanced. We had been steadily digging the potatoes in the field and selling them in their unripened condition, until half the acre had been cleared. The vines in the lower half of the patch were now growing very yellow, and I decided to leave them, until the tubers should thoroughly ripen, for winter use. By the 20th of the month we had all the space that had been cleared, that is, half an acre, filled with Duchess and Wilson strawberries; and the plants first set were green and vigorous, with renewed running tendencies. But the runners were promptly cut off, so that the plants might grow strong enough to give a good
