Wearied by the journey, and the fun of it, Marjorie fell at once into a deep, quiet sleep. Kitty's sleep was deep, too, but not quiet. The child tossed around and waved her arms, muttering about a geranium sea, and a little boat on it.

Nurse Nannie puttered about the room for some time, picking up things, and laying out the girls' clothes for the next day. Then she put out the lights and went away to her own room.

It was, perhaps, ten o'clock when Kitty threw back the bedclothing, and slowly got out of bed. She was sound asleep, and she walked across the room with a wavering, uncertain motion, but went straight to the French window, which was still part way open.

Kitty had sometimes walked in her sleep before, but it was not really a habit with her, and the family had never thought it necessary to safeguard her.

It was a still, warm night, and when she stepped out on the balcony, there was no breeze or waft of cool air to awaken her.

She paused at the low rail of the little balcony, and murmured, "Oh, the lovely soft red flowers! I will lie down on them!" and over the railing she went, plump down into the geranium bed!

As is well known, a fall is not apt to hurt a somnambulist, for the reason that in sleep the muscles are entirely relaxed; but the jar woke Kitty, and she found herself, clad only in her little white nightgown, lying in the midst of the red blossoms.

She did not scream; on the contrary, she felt a strange sense of delight in the odorous flowers and the scent of the warm, soft earth.

But in a moment she realized what had happened, and scrambled up into a sitting posture.

"My gracious! it's Kit!" exclaimed a voice, and from among the group of people on the veranda Cousin Jack ran down to her. The others followed, and in a moment Kitty was surrounded by her own people. She flew to her mother's arms, and Cousin Ethel quickly drew off her own evening wrap and put it around Kitty.

"How did you happen to fall?" asked her father, who soon saw she was not hurt, or even badly jarred.

"I was asleep, I guess," Kitty returned; "anyway I dreamed that I wanted to jump in the red geranium sea,—so I jumped."

"You jumped! out of the window?"

"Yes,—that is, off of the little balcony. You see, I was asleep until I landed. Then I found out where I was."

Kitty was quite calm about it, and cuddled into the folds of Cousin Ethel's satin cloak, while she told her story.

"Of course, I shouldn't have jumped if I had been awake," she said; "but you can't help what you do in your sleep, can you?"

"No," said Uncle Steve; "you weren't a bit to blame, Kitsie, and I'm thankful you came down so safely. But I think that window must be fastened before you go to sleep again. One such escapade is enough for one night."

The other guests on the veranda looked curiously at the group, but Kitty was protected from view by her own people, and, too, the big cloak hid all deficiencies of costume.

"Well, we have to get used to these unexpected performances," said Mr. Maynard, "but I do believe my children are more ingenious than others in trumping up new games."

"We are," said Kitty, "but usually it's Midget who does the crazy things. King and I don't cut up jinks much."

"That's so," agreed Uncle Steve. "Last summer Miss Mischief kept us all in hot water. But this year, Kitsie has been a model of propriety. She never walks out of second-story windows when she's at our house. I guess I'd better take her back there."

"Not to-morrow," said Kitty. "Wait till next day, won't you, Uncle Steve?"

"All right; day after to-morrow, then. But we mustn't stay away from Grandma longer than that."

"And now I think our adventurous little explorer must go back to her dreams," said Mrs. Maynard. "Who wants to carry her upstairs?"

As Uncle Steve was the biggest and strongest of the three men, he picked up the young sleepwalker, and started off with her. Mrs. Maynard followed, and they soon had Kitty safely in bed again, with the French window securely fastened against any further expeditions.

The mother sat by the little girl until she went to sleep, and this time her slumber was untroubled by dreams of geranium seas with fairy boats on them.

Next morning, Marjorie was greatly interested in Kitty's story.

"Oh, Kit," she exclaimed, "I wish I had seen you step off! Though, of course, if I had seen you, you wouldn't have done it! For I should have waked you up. Well, it's a wonder you didn't smash yourself. Come on, let's hurry down and look at that flower bed."

But by the time the girls got down there, the hotel gardener had remade the flower bed, and it now looked as if no one had ever set foot on it.

"Pshaw!" said Marjorie, "they've fixed it all up, and we can't even see where you landed. Did it make a big hole, Kit?"

"I don't know, Mops. About as big as I am, I suppose. Can't you imagine it?"

Marjorie laughed. "Yes, I can imagine you landing there, in your nightgown and bare feet! How you must have looked!"

"I s'pose I did. But, somehow, Mops, when I found myself there, it didn't seem queer at all. I just wanted to float on the red flowers."

"Kit, I do believe you're half luny," observed King; "you have the craziest ideas. But I'm jolly glad you didn't get hurt, you old sleep-trotter!" and the boy pulled his sister's curls to express his deep affection and gratitude for her safety.

Kitty was none the worse for her fall. The soft loam of the newly made flower bed had received her gently, and not even a bruise had resulted.

But the elders decided that hereafter the exits from Kitty's bedroom must be properly safeguarded at night, as no one could tell when the impulse of sleep-walking might overtake her.

There was plenty to do at Lakewood. Uncle Steve took the children for a brisk walk through the town, and bought them souvenirs of all sorts. The shops displayed tempting wares, and the girls were made happy by bead necklaces and pretty little silk bags, while King rejoiced in queer Indian relics found in a curio shop. Then back to the hotel, for a game of tennis and a romp with Cousin Jack, and in the afternoon a long motor ride, with occasional stops for ice cream soda or peanuts.

And the next day Kitty and Uncle Steve went home. They concluded to take the train from Lakewood, and not return again to Seacote.

"Grandma will be getting anxious to see us," Uncle Steve declared. "I did not intend to stay as long as this when I left home."

"Good-bye, old Kitsie," said Midget; "don't walk into any more red seas, and write to me often, won't you?"

"Yes, I will, Midge; but you don't write very often, yourself."

"I know it; it's a sort of a bother to write letters. But I love to get them."

"Well, the summer will be over pretty soon," returned Kitty, "and then we'll all be back in Rockwell."

The Maynard children were philosophical, and so they parted with cheery good-byes, and the train steamed away with Uncle Steve and Kitty waving from the window.

"Now, for our own plans," said Mr. Maynard. "What shall we do next, Jack?"

"I know what I'd like," said Cousin Ethel.

"What is it, my Angel?" asked her husband. "You may most certainly have anything you want."

"Well, instead of going right back to Seacote, I'd like to go to Atlantic City."

"You would!" said Mr. Bryant. "And would you like to go around by Chicago, and stop at San Francisco on your way home?"

"No," said Cousin Ethel, laughing; "and I don't think Atlantic City is so very far. We could go there to-day, stay over to-morrow, and back to Seacote the day after. What do you think, Jack?"

"I think your plan is great! And I'm more than ready to carry it out, if these Maynards of ours agree to it."

"I'd like it," declared Marjorie. "I've never been to Atlantic City."

"But it isn't exactly a summer place, is it?" asked Mrs. Maynard.

"Neither is Lakewood," said Cousin Ethel. "But it's a cool spell just now, and I think it would be lots of fun to run down there."

"All right," said Mr. Maynard, "let's run."

And run they did. Considering they had nine people and two motors, and several suitcases to look after, they displayed admirable expedition in getting started, and just at dusk they came upon the brilliant radiance of the lights of Atlantic City.

"This was a fine idea of yours, Ethel," said Mrs. Maynard. "This place looks very attractive."

"Oh, isn't it!" cried Marjorie. "I think it's grand! Can't we stay up late to-night, Mother?"

"You may stay up till nine o'clock, Midget, and we'll go down and see the crowds on the Boardwalk."

So after dinner they went down to the gay thoroughfare known as the Boardwalk. It was crowded with merry, laughing, chattering people, and Midget danced along in an ecstasy of enjoyment.

"I never saw such a lot of people!" she exclaimed. "Where are they all going?"

"Nowhere in particular," said her father. "They're just out here to look at each other and enjoy themselves."

"See those funny chairs, on rollers," went on Midget. "Oh, can't we ride in them? Everybody else does."

"Of course we must," said her father. "It's part of the performance."

He engaged three rolling chairs, and as each chair held two people, he said, "How shall we divide up?"

"I'll take Mehitabel," said Cousin Jack, "and Hezekiah can go with my wife. Then you two elder Maynards can use the third. How's that?"

This arrangement was satisfactory and they started off, a strong man pushing each chair.

"Don't you think this is fun, Cousin Jack?" asked Marjorie, as she watched the crowds and the lights, and Old Ocean rolling big black waves up on the shore.

"Yes, Mehitabel, I think it's gay. There's a certain something at this place that you never see anywhere else."

"Yes, it's quite different from Seacote, isn't it? Everybody here seems to be in a hurry."

"That's only because it's such a big and lively crowd. Here we are at the pier. I think we'd better go in and hear the music."

So they dismissed the chairmen, and went far down the long pier to listen to a concert.

A children's dance was being held, and Marjorie sat down, enraptured at the sight.

Lots of boys and girls about her own age, in fancy costumes, were dancing and pirouetting in time with the fine music. One little girl, especially, Marjorie admired. She was a pretty child, in a white frock and blue sash, and she wore a wreath of small rosebuds on her curly, flaxen hair. She seemed to be the best of all the dancers, and twice she danced alone, doing marvellous fancy steps and receiving great applause from the audience.

"Isn't she lovely!" exclaimed Midget. "I wish I could dance like that."

"You never can, Mopsy," said King. "You're too heavy. That girl is a featherweight."

"She looks nice," said Midget. "I'd like to know her."

And then, as it was nearing nine o'clock, they left the dancing pavilion, and made their way back to their hotel.

Marjorie kept close to her parents, for the crowd seemed to grow denser all the time, and if she lost sight of her people, she feared she'd be swept away from them forever.

They were staying at Madden Hall, and as they reached it, there, too, music was being played, and some people were dancing in the big ballroom. But there were no children about, so Midget trotted off to bed cheerfully, with lots of pleasant anticipations for the morrow.

At breakfast, next morning, she was looking around the dining room, when she spied the same little girl who had danced so prettily the night before.

"Oh, Mother," she exclaimed, "there she is! That pretty girl that danced. See, at the next table but two. Yes, it is the same one!"

"Sure it is," agreed King. "She's staying here. Perhaps we can get acquainted with her, Mops."

"Could we, Mother? Would it be right?"

"We'll see about it," said Mrs. Maynard, smiling at her impulsive daughter. After breakfast the Maynard party walked out on the veranda, and Midget soon saw the little girl, in a big rocking chair not far away.

"May I go over and speak to her, Mother?" she said.

"Why, yes, Midget, if you like. She looks like a nice child. Run along."

So Midget went over and took the next rocking chair, for there were many chairs, ranged in long rows.

"I came over to talk to you," she said; "I saw you dance last night, and I think you do dance lovely."

"Do you?" said the little girl. She seemed diffident, but pleased at Marjorie's words. "You see, it was a Children's Carnival, and Mamma let me dance. I never danced in a place like that before, and I was a little scared at first."

"You didn't look scared. You just looked lovely. What's your name? Mine's Marjorie Maynard. I live in Rockwell, when I'm home."

"Mine's Ruth Rowland, and I live in Philadelphia, when I'm home. But we're spending the summer in Seacote. We just came down here for a week."

"In Seacote! Why, that's where we're spending the summer. We have a house on Fairway Avenue."

"Oh, I know that house. I remember seeing you there when I've passed by. Isn't it funny that we should happen to meet here! We live farther down, past the pier, you know."

"Yes, I know. Will you come to see me after we both get back there?"

"Yes, indeed I will. When are you going back?"

"To-morrow, I think. When are you?"

"In a few days. Do you know Cicely Ross?"

"No, I don't know very many children in Seacote. Do you know the Craig boys?"

"No. I guess we don't know the same people. But I know Hester Corey, and you do, too, 'cause I've seen her playing in your yard."

"Oh, yes, Hester plays with us a lot."

"She's a funny girl, isn't she?"

"Well, she's nice sometimes, and sometimes she isn't. Here's my brother King. King, this is Ruth Rowland, and what do you think? She lives in Seacote! I mean, for the summer she's staying there."

"Good!" cried King. "We can play together then, after we go back."

The three children rapidly became good friends, and soon Ruth proposed that they all go for a ride in a roller chair.

"They have wide chairs," she said, "that will hold all three of us."

Midget ran to ask her mother if they might do this, but Mrs. Maynard was not willing that the children should go alone.

"But Nannie and Rosamond may go, too, in another chair," she said, "and then I shall feel that you are looked after."

So down to the Boardwalk they went, and Nurse Nannie and Rosy Posy took one chair, and the three children took another. They selected a wide one which gave them plenty of room, and off they started.

It was a lovely, clear day, and the blue sky and the darker blue ocean met at the far distant horizon, with whitecaps dotted all over the crests of the waves. A few ships and steamers were to be seen, but mostly the children's attention was attracted to the scenes on shore.

"I thought it was lovely last night," said Midget, "but it's even nicer now. The booths and shops are so gay and festive, and the ladies all look so pretty in their summer frocks and bright parasols."

They stopped occasionally, for soda water or candy, and once they stopped at a camera place and had their pictures taken in the rolling chairs.

King proposed this, because he saw a great many people doing it, and as the man finished up the pictures at once, the children were delighted with the postcards.

"I'll send one to Kit," said Midget, "she'll love it. And I'll send one to Grandma Maynard."

Ruth had several of the pictures, too, and she said she should send some to friends in Philadelphia.

"She's an awfully nice girl," said Marjorie to her mother, when telling of their morning's doings. "I'm so glad she's at Seacote. We're going to have lots of fun when we get back."

"I'm glad, too," said Mrs. Maynard. "For you have so few acquaintances there, and Ruth is certainly a very sweet child."