her hand, as she put it out, touched rough, cold sand. Garth was sitting up beside her, the end of the rug over his knees.
"I've been wishing and wishing you'd wake up," he said, "because the sun's rising on the other side of the rock, and we can see it if we go on top."
They put on their shoes and flapped the sand out of their queerly wrinkled clothes.
"It was so funny, waking up this morning," Garth said, as Joan helped him up the rock. "I thought I'd dreamed all that about the stars and everything, until I saw where I was. Oh, look at the sun!"
It was rising straight from the sea, scattering banded clouds before it in great ranks of crimson and flame-color. A strip of clear, hard amber lay along the horizon, and overhead the lifeless gray melted to faint rosiness and pale, liquid blue.
"I always mean to wake up at home and see it," said Garth, "but I hardly ever do. It's much more fun living on the beach this way."
"What if it rained?" Joan asked.
"That wouldn't be very nice," Garth mused; "but we could build a hut. Only then it would be just like living in a house again. Oh, dear!"
