"Oh, her Uncle John would tell her," said Sprite.
"He _didn't_" declared Rose, then; "_did_ you, Uncle John?" she cried.
"I certainly did not tell Rose," he said, "and after another half hour
has passed, you three little friends must commence to look about you,
and see if you see anything that looks at all familiar."
"Tell us when the half hour is up," said Polly, "and we'll begin
looking."
They were soon running along country roads, where men were busy in the
fields, and where early fall wild flowers bordered the roads.
Then in a brief space, they began to miss the wild flowers, and to
notice bold bits of ledge, the roads became more sandy, and as they
swung around a bend, they caught a glimpse of the sea.
"Cliffmore! Oh, it's Cliffmore!" cried Sprite her hands tightly clasped,
and her eyes bright as stars.
"_Isn't_ it Cliffmore, Mr. Atherton?" she asked, her little hand patting
his shoulder nervously, as she waited his reply.
He stopped the car, and turned to gaze up into the lovely, eager face.
Sprite, standing, her long golden hair blowing back from her face,
looked for all the world like a sea fairy.
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