Billina showed her the place where she had "stubbed her bill," as she
expressed it, and Dorothy dug away the sand until she felt something
hard. Then, thrusting in her hand, she pulled the thing out, and
discovered it to be a large sized golden key--rather old, but still
bright and of perfect shape.

"What did I tell you?" cried the hen, with a cackle of triumph. "Can
I tell metal when I bump into it, or is the thing a rock?"

"It's metal, sure enough," answered the child, gazing thoughtfully at
the curious thing she had found. "I think it is pure gold, and it must
have lain hidden in the sand for a long time. How do you suppose it came
there, Billina? And what do you suppose this mysterious key unlocks?"

"I can't say," replied the hen. "You ought to know more about locks
and keys than I do."

Dorothy glanced around. There was no sign of any house in that part
of the country, and she reasoned that every key must fit a lock and
every lock must have a purpose. Perhaps the key had been lost by
somebody who lived far away, but had wandered on this very shore.

Musing on these things the girl put the key in the pocket of her dress
and then slowly drew on her shoes and stockings, which the sun had
fully dried.

"I b'lieve, Billina," she said, "I'll have a look 'round, and see if I
can find some breakfast."