Tee-tee in the yacht with us. How nice that will be!” exclaimed little Eric Leland. “They are fine, amusing little fellows, and you may be sure, Elsie and Ned, that we will take good care of them.”

“And be willing to give them back to us when we get home?” asked Elsie.

“Honest enough to do so, I hope, whether we’re willing or not,” laughed Eric.

“Yes, of course we would,” said his sister, Alie, “for we are honest folks; but I’m glad we can have the cute little monkeys with us even for awhile.”

“On the yacht you will, but I think we’ll have them at Ion after we get home,” said Lily Travilla, the little daughter of Edward and Zoe, “because it’s papa and mamma who have promised to take care of them.”

“Yes,” said Elsie, “and I’m sure Uncle Edward and Aunt Zoe will be good to them—so good that I’m most afraid they’ll grow fonder of them than of Ned and me.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think there is any danger of that,” said Zoe, “and if they should, you can soon win their hearts back again by your love and kindness.”

“Oh, I do believe we can, Aunt Zoe; for the dear little things love us now, I’m sure,” cried Elsie, giving Tiny a hug and a loving pat.

But the older people were chatting about the necessary preparations for the journey, and the children grew quiet to listen. Their plans were laid in a few moments, and within twenty-four hours all embarked for New Orleans, in the same boat, and on reaching that city the two companies parted, Edward and his charges starting eastward in the Dolphin, Captain Raymond and his taking a westward-bound train on the Southern Pacific.

The little company, especially the younger ones, were in fine spirits; they were pleasant companions for each other, the weather was fine, and the prospect of sight-seeing before them quite delightful. The children had many questions to ask about what they should see in California, which the older people, especially their father, were kindly ready to answer.

“At what place will we stop first, papa?” asked Elsie.

“At Coronado Beach, which is not very far from Los Angeles. We will take rooms at the Hotel del Coronado, which is an immense building, yet very homelike and delightful. It has an inner court, with trees, flowers and vines, and around that court many suites of rooms, each with its own bath and sitting-room, so that a party of guests such as ours can be very comfortable and as private as they please.”

“And if they don’t want to be very private I suppose they can mingle with other folks, can’t they, papa?” asked Ned.

“Yes, indeed; there is almost every kind of amusement that is found elsewhere. Probably fishing and yachting, walking and driving along the beach, will suit us as well or better than anything else; there is a drive of twelve miles along the beach at low tide.”

“But I fear we will find it too warm for outdoor sports at this time of year,” remarked Mrs. Dinsmore.

“No, grandma, I think not,” said Dr. Harold. “I have been told the summer climate is better than the winter—never too warm for comfort, dry and tempered as it is by the ocean breeze. You do not find there the raw, searching dampness felt at Eastern seaside resorts; but I’m told it is too cold for the comfort of invalids during the March rains. They are happily over now, and I think that even our invalids will find the weather comfortably warm.”

“And comfortably cool?” queried his mother, giving him a proudly affectionate look and smile.

“I think the ocean breeze will make it that, mother,” he answered, returning her smile with one as full of affection as her own.

“I do believe we are going to have a delightful time,” exclaimed Lucilla in joyous tones; “everything will be so new and fresh—lovely scenery, beautiful plants and flowers, and the climate all that one could desire.”

“Well, I hope you will not be disappointed, daughter,” the captain said; “but California is not heaven and you must expect some unpleasantnesses.”

“I hope there won’t be sicknesses,” said Grace.

“No,” said Evelyn sportively, “we must all try to keep well that our good doctor may not be robbed of his vacation.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Raymond,” said Harold, with a bow and smile, “I sincerely hope you will all keep well for your own sakes more than mine.”

“You may be sure we will all do our best in that line, Harold, and even more for our own sakes than for yours,” laughed his sister, Violet.

“I hope so,” he returned. “Having persuaded you all to take the trip I am extremely desirous that it may prove beneficial.”

They had been talking during a pause in the movement of the train, and now, as it started on again, they relapsed into silence.

CHAPTER II

They arrived at Coronado Beach, tired with their journey but full of delight with the beauty of their surroundings. On the morning after their arrival they were gathered upon one of the galleries, taking a very interested view of the strange and beautiful scenery spread out before them. The near prospect was of lovely grounds forming the inner court of the hotel, grass, trees and hedges of lovely green, borders and ovals and beds of marguerites, long lines and curves of marigolds, and a fountain encircled by calla-lilies. It was beautiful. And farther away they could see other lovely gardens, rocky wastes, lofty mountains, and the ocean with distant sails upon it; the beach with foaming waves breaking on it, and Point Loma, grandly guarding the harbor on the right.

“There must be a grand view from the top of that promontory,” remarked Chester.

“Yes,” said the captain, “and perhaps a call there would be as good a beginning of our peregrinations as we could make. Point Loma commands one of the most remarkable views in the world; an immense prospect and very interesting in its details. I suppose you would all like to go?” he added inquiringly, and with a kindly glance from one to another.

No one seemed at all inclined to reject the offered treat, carriages were ordered, and in a few minutes they were on their way.

There was no disappointment; the view from the top of the rocky promontory, Point Loma, was all they had been led to expect; a view of miles of old ocean, blue and sparkling in the sunshine, bearing distant vessels on its bosom; on the land ranges on ranges of mountains; away in the distance to the South another promontory—the Point of Rocks, in Mexico. They drove along the narrow ridge of the promontory to the lighthouse, and found the view very fine from there.

“How beautiful is that wide, curving coast line!” remarked Grandma Elsie.

“Yes, mamma,” assented Violet, “and the ranges on ranges of hills and mountains. And there, see, are snow-peaks beyond them. What mountains are they, my dear?”

“San Bernardino and San Jacinto,” replied the captain; “and that flat-topped one is Table Mountain, in Mexico.”

“’Tis a grand view, this!” remarked Mr. Lilburn, in tones of delight.

“Yes, one of the finest in the world,” responded the captain. “What a perfect crescent is that ocean beach, and how singular is the formation of North and South Coronado Beach! Notice the entrance to this harbor here along Point Loma, where we are standing, and on the spacious inner bay, the towns of San Diego, and National City;