“Just wait until you see the beach we’ve found!” Pauline’s face was bright with anticipation as she tugged her overstuffed basket up the steep embankment. “And practically in our own backyard! No expensive train tickets for this Labor Day picnic, Daddy-dear.”

“No sir!” her brother Bert echoed loyally, reaching down to boost little Florrie up the last few feet to the railroad track.

“Cross quickly, boys,” Pauline prompted as Jesse paused to balance on one foot on top of the rail. “We promised we wouldn’t be in the way.”

Donny scurried obediently across, and after a second’s threatening pout, Jesse followed. Last of all came their father, watchful and curious, but with the same tired slump to his shoulders that they’d had since the awful stock crash had taken their bank along with so many others. Pauline’s heart gave a little pang at the sight, but she lifted her chin and waved triumphantly at the scene below.

“There! Will you just look at it? And the railroad man said no one ever asks to picnic here, so we’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”

The younger children eyed the muddy ravine with its drought-shrunken river rather doubtfully, and Pauline rushed ahead before the mood could sour.

“See, Florrie, the water’s quiet enough to float in! And we can wade and splash and find beautiful shiny rocks just as much as we want, with no one around to complain. Look, boys, you can dig canals and roads and lakes, or just bury yourselves up to the neck in mud, and I won’t even scold a bit.”

“Yes, or hunt frogs,” Bert put in artfully, drawing the younger boys’ interest at once. “I saw a big fat one when Pauline and I came last week, and I’m sure he’s still around here somewhere.”

“Come on, Don, let’s look!” Jesse scrambled down the slope, and Donny glanced up hesitantly, but Pauline laughed and waved him away.

“Yes, go on! You’re in your bathing suit already. I’ll call you when it’s time to eat.”

“What do you think, Florrie?” Bert held out an inviting hand. “Should we wade first or float?”

“Float!” The little girl jumped into her brother’s arms, and they hurried down to the water, while Pauline lugged the basket over to a dry portion of the shore and spread out the checkered tablecloth.

“Here, Daddy-dear, come rest a bit. You’ve worked so hard this year and deserve a holiday more than any of us.”

Her father accepted the invitation and lay back on his elbows, but as she turned away, he reached for her hand and drew her nearer.

“I can’t begin to guess how you and Bert ever thought of this, Sweet Pea, but I don’t know what I’d do without the two of you to keep things cheerful.”

“Oh, Daddy-dear, it isn’t so hard, truly! Why, it’s so much quieter here than at the beach, and we don’t have to waste time on the train, and—and—Daddy-dear, doesn’t God want us to be thankful for what we can have and not always missing what we can’t?”

Pauline’s voice trembled just a little at the end, and her father squeezed her hand gently before letting it go.

“Yes, dear, He does, and I’m grateful to you for remembering that—and for helping the others.”

Pauline’s smile flashed bright again, and she leaned closer to kiss his cheek before rummaging a dented pail and a pair of spoons from the basket and hopping up with a contented hum to deliver them to the boys.

Before an hour had passed, the idea that there was ever such a thing as a real beach in the world had vanished, and when the thoroughly dirty and happy crew gathered around the blanket for lunch, not a single word of complaint marred the bliss of cold chicken and plum jelly.

When the meal was finished, Florrie curled up by her father’s side for a nap, while Bert took the younger boys on an “explore” around the bend. Pauline had just finished clearing up and was reaching for Five Little Peppers when a sudden sneeze brought her head up to find a boy about Bert’s age peering down sheepishly from the bank above.

“I’m ever so sorry.” The stranger sat up with a rueful chuckle. “I didn’t mean to spy. I only wanted to look for a minute, and then—it was all so lovely and cheerful I couldn’t help it.”

“But how did you find this place? They said—”

“My father’s the railway superintendent. I suppose I was mostly curious to see what kind of boy and girl would brave his den to ask leave for a picnic on company land. Dad’s busy today, and the house is awfully dull, so I thought…”

“Oh, of course you’re welcome!” Deeply touched by the wistful note in his voice, Pauline extended an inviting hand. “But why not come join us instead of sitting alone up there?”

The smile that lit his face thanked her without words, and he scrambled willingly down from his perch to meet her in the ravine. As they walked along the river after the boys, he introduced himself as Jefferson John Fitzroy III, though he insisted on being called Jeff, and Pauline found herself telling him all about the circumstances that had led her and Bert to beg a holiday next to the railroad.

“Well, I think it’s splendid of you!” Jeff’s voice held real admiration. “And say, if tickets are the hold-up—that is, if you ever wanted a real sand beach again—we don’t have quite the money we did before, but Dad’s still got use of a private train car, and I’m sure he’d let me share it.”

Pauline’s eyes went wide at this magnificence, but Jeff cut in before she could speak.

“Not now, though! Some other time, if you’d like it. Because no one could improve one wink on what you’ve done here today.”