Elizabeth Weston Timlow

Cricket at the Seashore Elizabeth Weston Timlow

"Eunice, what do you think I am going to do to-day? and I'm going to do it every day till I succeed." "Don't know, I'm sure," said Eunice, sleepily. "Don't tumble round so. It isn't time to get up." "Oh, you're such a lazybones," sighed Cricket, whose light, active frame required less sleep than Eunice's heavier build. "It's six o'clock, for the clock just struck. Now I'll tell you what I want to do. Let's dig in the sand-banks every day, and see if we can't find mamma's money-bag, that she and auntie buried there so long ago." "All right, and let's search in the cove for the little turquoise ring you lost two years ago, in bathing," answered Eunice, still sleepily, but with much sarcasm. "Now, Eunice, you needn't come out with any of your sarcastic sinuates," said Cricket, tossing her curly head. "I'm going to do it anyway, and I'm going to find it. I feel it in my bones, as 'Liza says, and I'm going to begin straight after breakfast, if we don't do anything else. Don't tell any one, for I want to surprise everybody." "I think you're safe to do it, if you want to. I won't tell. Wonder if they've sailed yet," with a thought of the travellers.