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Bobby in Movieland
"Say, ma; honest, I don't want to go in. Just all I want is to take off my shoes and socks and walk where the water just comes up to my ankles."
As the speaker, a boy of eight, was dressed in the fashion common to the youth of Los Angeles and its environment, it is but fair to state that with the taking off of shoes and socks the process of disrobing was really far advanced.
"My mother has let me take mine off," put in a bare-legged little girl. "We won't go into the water really at all, Mrs. Vernon. Oh, please let Bobby come along."
The time was morning--a clear, golden, flower-scented morning in early July. The place was the sandy shore of Long Beach. There were few bathers about, as it was Monday, when the week-enders had returned to their several occupations, while the pleasure-seekers living or lodging there were resting from the strenuous gayety of Sunday.
Mrs. Vernon, a beautiful young woman, in half-mourning, was strolling with her only child and the girl, an acquaintance made on the train, along the sands. They were all transients, presently to take a train north.
Bobby Vernon was a highly interesting child to look at. Rather small for his age, he was lithe and shapely. His complexion was delicately fair, his chestnut hair rather long. All these things were enough to attract attention; but above and beyond these were the features. Blue eyes, cupid mouth, a sensitive upper lip, an eloquent, chubby little nose--all had this in common that they were expressive of his every passing thought and emotion. He had a face, in a word, at once speaking and engaging.
The girl, Peggy Sansone, a year or two older, was a brunette, a decided contrast. She was a chance acquaintance, made by Bobby on the Pullman, with the result that, once they had exchanged a few words, there was no more sleeping during the daylight hours for the other occupants of that car.
Mrs. Vernon felt in her heart it would be more prudent to refuse the request. She feared that she was making a mistake. But she was just then preoccupied and sad. Now, sadness is weakening.
"Well, Bobby, if I give you permission, you won't go far? And you'll be back at the station in half an hour, and won't get lost?"
"I know the way back to the station," volunteered the girl. "And I'll promise you to see him back myself. You know, I've got my watch." Here Peggy, with the sweet vanity of childhood, held up for view her dainty wrist watch.
"Whoopee!" cried Bobby, jumping into his mother's arms, planting a kiss on her brow, dropping down to the sand and, apparently all in one motion, taking off shoes and socks.
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