When Rollo was between ten and eleven years old he was seated one day in the little arbor which Jonas had built for him. He was playing with some bright stones and shells which his Uncle George had brought him from the seashore, setting them in rows on the edge of his comfortable bench or, again, marching them in columns as he had seen the soldiers go during training-week. One shell in particular, Rollo admired greatly. It was a large clam-shell in which was a beautiful picture of a light-house and a ship in the distance and below were the words "Souvenir of Atlantic City."