“Oh, Silly!” said Thomasina. And well they might! In the place to which the Ball had brought them was all that your fancy can possibly paint, and a great deal more beside.
The children feel exactly as you do when you’ve had the long, hot, dirty train journey—and every one has been so cross about the boxes and the little brown portmanteau that was left behind at the junction—and then when you get to your lodgings you are told that you may run down and have a look at the sea if you’re back by tea time, and mother and nurse will unpack.
Only Thomasina and her brother had not had a tiresome journey—and there were no nasty, stuffy lodgings for them, and no tea with oily butter and a new pot of marmalade.
“There’s silver-sand,” said she—“miles of it.”
“And rocks,” said he.
“And cliffs.”
“And caves in the cliffs.”
“And how cool it is,” said Thomasina.
“And yet it’s nice and warm too,” said Selim.
“And what shells!”
“And seaweed.”
