“I Guess I’m lost! I’m lost in school!”

Mary Jane’s frightened little whisper sounded like a shout and the doors and walls and hallways seemed to echo back, “Lost! Little girl lost!” in a most desolate fashion. Mary Jane was so frightened that she stood perfectly still—just as still as though her shoes were fastened to the floor. And she looked straight ahead as though she was trying to see through the wall at which she was staring. To tell the truth, Mary Jane wasn’t trying to see through the wall. She didn’t even know a wall was in front of her. She couldn’t see a single thing, not even a big wall, because a mist of tears was in her eyes and a great lump was growing in her throat.

Now Mary Jane wasn’t a baby. And she never cried—or any way, she hardly ever cried because she was going on six and girls who are going on six don’t cry. But to be lost in a strange school and in a strange city and—everything; well, it’s not much wonder that Mary Jane felt pretty queer.

But before the tears had time to fall, there was a heavy footstep behind her and Mary Jane whirled around to see—the kindly face of Tom the janitor smiling at her.

“Aren’t you pretty late getting to your room?” he asked.

Mary Jane couldn’t answer. She was so relieved to have someone around that for a minute she just couldn’t get the lump out of her throat enough to talk.

Tom must have been used to little girls—maybe he had one of his own—because he didn’t pay any attention to Mary Jane’s silence. He took hold of her hand and said pleasantly, “Now don’t you worry a minute. You just show me which your room is and I’ll go with you.”

“I’m looking for it too,” said Mary Jane, finding her voice again, “but I don’t know where it is.”

“Don’t know where your room is?” asked Tom in surprise.

“No,” replied Mary Jane with a decided shake of her head, “I don’t.” And then, for talking was now getting comfortable and easy, she added, “you see, it isn’t really my room. It’s Betty’s. And I’m just a-visiting her. I’m just moved to Chicago and they haven’t any chair for me only just to visit in when somebody’s absent.”

“That sounds like the kindergarten,” said Tom.

“It is,” agreed Mary Jane with a laugh of relief, “I’m kindergarten, I am.”

“Then here we go, right down this way,” said Tom, and off they started in just the opposite direction.

Before they got clear up to the kindergarten, though, they met Miss Gilbert, who was coming in search of the little visitor. “Betty missed her,” she explained, “but I thought you’d find her, Tom.” With a thank you to her janitor friend, Mary Jane took tight hold of the teacher’s hand and they went into the kindergarten room together.

After that, the morning went very quickly and happily and Mary Jane could hardly believe her ears when the big whistles began to blow for twelve o’clock and Miss Gilbert told them to put away their scissors and cut-out papers and get ready to go home. Mary Jane had cut out two beautiful tulips and she was very happy when she was told they might be taken home as a souvenir of her visit.

On the way home they met Frances and Alice and Ed so they had plenty of company.

“What you doing Saturday?” asked Ed as they neared their own corner.

“I don’t know,” replied Alice, “is there anything nice to do—special?”

“Well,” answered Frances, “we were afraid you might all be busy—but—well you see, we were going to have a beach party and we thought maybe you folks would like to go along. All of you.”

Now Alice and Mary hadn’t the slightest idea what a beach party was, only of course they knew it must be something about the lake. But there wasn’t time for questions and talk just then for Frances discovered that they had walked so slowly that they must rush on home to lunch.

“We’ll get mother to tell you,” she promised, “and do say you’ll come ’cause it’s a fire and cooking and marshmallows and piles of fun.”

“And we’ve plenty of wires,” added Betty, “and they’re plenty long so you won’t burn your fingers.”

It sounded amazingly puzzling to Alice and Mary Jane, who couldn’t in the least understand what a fire and wires and all that had to do with a beach. But they were to find out before so very long. For that same afternoon, while Alice was still in school, Mrs. Holden and Betty came over to call on Mrs. Merrill and Mary Jane and then the beach party was all explained.

“We go over to the lake very often,” said Mrs. Holden. “And on the sandy beach, close by the water, the children build a big fire. Then, when the coals are good, we toast sandwiches and roast ‘weenies’ and toast marshmallows. The children are so anxious to show your girls just how it is done,” she added, “and as the weather promises to be warm and sunny I think we should have an extra fine time.”

So it was settled. And a person would have thought from the excitement and fun of preparation that the party was to be that same day instead of twenty-four hours away. For as soon as Alice and the older Holden children came home from school, they all set to work planning the menu and getting out baskets and cleaning the wires on which, so the Merrill girls learned, marshmallows were held over the coals to be toasted.

But when everything that could be done the day before, was finished, there was still some time for play, so the children went down into the Holden yard and the boys, Ed and John, showed the girls how to run a track meet—how to jump and vault and race in proper track style. Alice and Mary Jane thought the boys wonderfully skilled and the boys, thrilled by such warm admiration, broke all their previous records and had a beautiful time.

At four o’clock the next afternoon the two families set out for the beach party. And it surely was quite a procession that made its way the four or five blocks to the park. First there was John with the wagon which held all the heavy things—baskets of food and such. Next came Ed, who started out walking behind the wagon to see that nothing dropped off. He and John were to take turns pulling the load. Then the others carried bundles of kindling and the wires for marshmallows and toasting racks for meat. They had such a jolly time getting off that everybody felt sure the party was to be a success.

Mary Jane had been so busy helping get settled and all that, that she hadn’t had time for a real visit on the beach. To be sure she had had glimpses of the big blue they could see down their own street, but to really come over and see the lake and play in the sand—this was her first trip. So she skipped along very happily and thought she could hardly wait till they got there.

Fortunately they hadn’t far to go. Three blocks down and two blocks over and there was the park—such a beautiful park with tiny lakes and bridges and great trees whose buds were swelling in the warm afternoon spring sunshine. Mary Jane thought she must be in fairyland come to life, it was all so beautiful. They crossed an arched bridge; saw a lovely view off toward the south where other bridges and lagoons and trees made such a pretty picture they were tempted to stay and look longer; walked around a big circle where, so John told them, the band gave concerts in the summer time; circled a tiny little inlet lake and came out, quite suddenly, right close to the big lake—Lake Michigan. It almost took Mary Jane’s breath way, coming suddenly that way, upon the sight of so much water. It was all so blue and clear, she thought, for the minute, that surely it must be the very same ocean she had seen in Florida only a few weeks before.

But the boys didn’t give much time for sight-seeing of lakes—they had seen the good old lake many a time and they were thinking more about supper than any view, however pretty.

So they hurried their wagon across the boulevard driveway, and of course all the folks had to follow close behind, and down the beach walk a couple of hundred yards and there they settled themselves on a stretch of clean white sand.

“Now,” said big brother Linn, whom the girls hadn’t seen much of as yet, but who seemed to be master of ceremonies, “you boys gather those big logs down there, you girls fix the kindling and I’ll set these stones up so we get a good draft when we light our fire.”

Everybody set to work. The logs proved to be so big and heavy that Ed and John were very glad to have the help of their father and Mr. Merrill to roll them into place. The four girls sorted out the kindling in their basket and added to it by picking up drift wood on the beach. Frances explained that they always brought some along to be sure they had some real dry wood for a start.

With such good help and so much of it, of course it wasn’t long till a fine blaze was going and the beach party was actually begun.

“Go ahead and play now,” said Linn, when he saw the fire was started and that there was a big pile of reserve wood close by. “You know we can’t cook till we get some coals.”

“But I’m starved,” hinted Ed, with a hungry look toward the baskets his mother and Mrs. Merrill were guarding.

“Then you’ll have to stay starved, young man,” said his mother, laughing, “because not a basket is to be opened till the coals are ready for cooking.”

“Then let’s make a sand castle,” suggested Betty and she ran down to a smooth place on the beach, away from possible smoke, and began molding the white sand.

That pleased Mary Jane. She hadn’t forgotten the fun she had playing on the beach in Florida, and while this beach was different—it didn’t have any of the pretty shells or funny little crawdads she had found on the Florida beach—still it had lovely white sand and dainty little waves and was quite the nicest place for play that Mary Jane had seen.

“I’ll tell you what let’s do,” suggested Alice, as she saw that all the children were going to play in the sand, “let’s each build a castle and make it any way we like best and then when they’re all finished, have an exhibition and everybody look and see which is the best.”

“All right, let’s,” agreed the children and they set to work.

Mary Jane chose for her castle a place down close by the water. She loved the nearness of the waves and the thrill of knowing that maybe, if she didn’t watch out, a wave would come up really close and get her wet. Betty picked out a spot nearer the fire on the side away from the smoke and Alice chose a place where a few pretty pebbles would give her material with which to pave a “moat” she intended to make.

And then everybody set to work. So busy were they that Linn had to tend the fire all by himself and Ed forgot he was hungry.

Before very long that beach looked like a picture book. Towers and ditches and castles and bridges were where flat sand had been a few minutes before. The Holden children had made many a sand house and they knew just how to pack the damp sand so it would stay in place and just how to put a small board here and there to hold a second story or a tower straight and tall.

But with all their experience, Alice’s castle was as pretty as theirs, or at any rate she thought it was, and Mary Jane’s was quite wonderful. She smoothed off the “garden” in front of her palace, stuck in a few sticks for flowers, made a pebbly path down to the tiny lake she had scooped out at one side and then shouted, “Mine’s done! Look at mine!” and stepped aside so all could see her handiwork.

But Mary Jane wasn’t used to working so close to the water and she forgot entirely where she was! Instead of stepping to one side, as she should have done, she stepped backwards—straight into the big lake! And then, sliding in the wet sand, she sat right down in the lake and sent a big wave of ripples—right over her castle and garden and lake and everything and washed it all away, every bit!