IT was early in November, but if you had lain by Nan's side on the beach basking¹ in the sunshine you would scarcely have guessed it. The air was mild and warm, and there were no trees near to betray what sad havoc² blustering³ fall winds had made with the foliage⁴. Old ocean was as blue and still as in midsummer, with just a single line of breakers falling at regular intervals⁵ on the hard white beach. Nan was fairly glorying in the June-like day, feeling there could hardly be such another till June herself should have come round again. The boys had gone off for the afternoon on some sort of an expedition, never so much as asking her to accompany them, but she was not sorry to be left at home. She was one of those little people who, like some big people, loved to have a chance for a quiet think now and then, and lying there by herself she was supremely⁶ happy and tranquil⁷. She had been there fully⁸ an hour, and for a while had been busy building a little castle in the sand, making a foundation of clam⁹ shells, and using an old bottle for a tower.
 
Most of the time she had been “just thinking,” and thinking so hard that she did not notice some one coming nearer and nearer until, suddenly looking up, her eyes met those of a stranger. She was a pretty little picture lying there flat on the sand, with her dimpled face propped¹⁰ comfortably between her hands.
 
“I wonder what you are thinking about, my little friend,” said the new comer, kindly¹¹. “I know from your face that your thoughts are happy thoughts?”
 
“Pretty foolish ones, I guess you'd call them!” laughed Nan, for there was something about the stranger that at once won her confidence.
 
“I'm not so sure of that,” he answered; “but a stranger has no right to ask you what they were, so good-bye, my little dreamer.”
 
“I wish you would not go,” said Nan, sitting up and smoothing out her dress; “I would like to talk to you, because I think you look like a minister, and I never spoke¹² to a real minister before.”
 
“Well, you shall now,” he answered, sitting down beside her, “for you have guessed rightly, and for that matter there is nothing the minister would rather do than talk to you for a while.”
 
There was a little pause, and then Nan asked hesitatingly, as though she feared to seem rude, “You don't belong about here, do you?”
 
“No, but I almost wish I did. I love the sea with all my heart, so that I have hard work to keep from saying something about it in every sermon I preach. But if I do not belong about here, it is very certain that you do. You must have lived by the ocean week in and week out, to get that shade of blue into your eyes.”
 
“That's what Reginald says!” laughed Nan.
 
“And who is Reginald?”
 
“Why, Reginald Fairfax; he's staying with us while his father and mother are in Europe. The poor little fellow broke his leg last summer, and Sister Julia is here too, to take care of him, but he's almost well now. I wish you knew Sister Julia. She comes from one of the great hospitals in New York, and she is the loveliest person you ever saw.”
 
“Well, I should say I did know her,” answered the minister. “She goes to my church in town, and so do Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax; and Regie and I are the best of friends.”
 
“Why, are you Mr. Vale?” queried¹³ Nan, astonished, for the name of the young minister had often been on Regie's lips.
 
“Yes, I am,” he answered, laughing, as though he must own up to the truth.
 
“But what are you doing here?”
 
“Well, I'll tell you. Do you see that red-tiled cottage yonder?” pointing down the beach.
 
“Do you mean Mr. Avery's?” for Nan knew the name of every resident in the neighbourhood of Moorlow.
 
“Yes; Mr. Avery is a friend of mine, and stays down here, you know, quite late into the fall, so he asked me to bring my sister, who is quite an invalid¹⁴, to his cottage, thinking the change would do her good. So here we are; we came this morning, but I am obliged to go back to the city again this afternoon.”
 
“Oh, dear! I'm sorry for that,” said Nan, regretfully, “I would so much have liked to hear you preach.”
 
“Well, that is very kind of you. Perhaps you can some time, when you come to New York to visit Regie. By the way, where is he?”
 
“Oh, he's off with my brother Harry¹⁵ this afternoon, and I don't believe they'll be home before supper time.”
 
“That's too bad, but I shall probably see him the next time I come.”
 
“Oh, you are coming again then!” exclaimed Nan, her face brightening.
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