"Yes!" exclaimed Grace. "But we didn"t bring any. I meant to, but----"
"She had so much other candy she couldn"t carry marshmallows,"
interrupted Betty.
Grace threw a wisp of seaweed at her chum, but the Little Captain easily dodged it.
"I wonder if Percy will really come for us in the car?" asked Amy, after a pause.
"Do you want him to?" asked Betty, with a smile.
"I? No, indeed!" and Amy"s face was suffused with a blush.
"Oh, well, don"t get fussy about it," mocked Mollie. "We don"t want him, either."
"He"d have trouble running his car through this sand," Grace said. "It"s awfully deep and dry. Let"s stop. When are we going to eat?"
"Eat?" cried Mollie.
"Eat?" echoed Amy. "Why we just had breakfast!"
"Eat?" spoke Betty, in a tone characterized as "dull and hopeless," in stories. "Why, Grace Ford, if you have done anything else but eat--candy--ever since we started on this picnic, I"d like to know it!"
Poor Grace looked a little startled at this combined attack on her.
"Why, I--I haven"t done anything," she said, innocently enough. "I just asked when you were going to eat and you take me up as though I had proposed throwing those--"apples"--we found, into the sea."
"If you look back along the way you"ll see at least three empty candy bags," declared Betty.
"Oh, well, they were little bags," protested Grace. "I had them put in small bags on purpose so I would know just how much I was eating."
"I don"t believe you ever know how much candy you are eating," laughed Mollie. "Never mind, Grace, we all have our faults."
"We"ll eat soon," promised Betty. "I want to get in the shade."
They strolled on, walking near the wet edge of the sand where the tide was coming in, for that section of the beach made firmer footing.
"There"s a good place for our picnic," finally decided Mollie, as she saw a little clump of scrub evergreens which grew rather close to the water. "We can eat and have a fine view at the same time."
"Is that the boys" boat out there?" asked Mollie, as they made their way toward the bit of shade.
"No, that"s a small schooner. It"s been anch.o.r.ed there for some days,"
Betty said. "There"s something queer about it, too."
"Something queer?" repeated Amy.
"Yes, the men in it don"t seem to be gathering clams, which work all the other schooners are engaged in around here, and they"re not net fishermen aboard her."
"Who told you that?" asked Mollie.
"Old Tin-Back. He notices anything odd about the boats. He said he pa.s.sed her in his dory the other day, and some one yelled to him not to come too close."
"Why was that?" Grace asked.
"That"s what Tin-Back didn"t know. He thought it was very strange,"
Betty went on. "But come on, I know Grace must be--famished! Aren"t you, my dear?"
The baskets were opened, and the contents spread out on a cloth on the sand. Grace reached for the bottle of olives.
"For an appetizer," she explained.
"You need it, after munching candy all the way here," commented Mollie.
And then, as they ate, the girls talked of many matters, now and then looking off toward the bay or ocean, whereon could be seen many vessels, mostly little clamming schooners, drifting with the wind on their squared sails, dragging the big rakes along the bottom. But the schooner of which Betty had spoken rose and fell at her anchor, and there was no sign of life aboard.
"This is just perfect," remarked Grace, as she found a comfortable position, leaning back against a tree. "Please don"t disturb me, any one, I"m going to sleep."
"I believe I"ll join you," added Mollie. "Salt air always makes me drowsy. Or perhaps it is the effect of the bright sun on the sand."
While Mollie and Grace closed their eyes, Betty dug idly in the sand, and Amy produced a handkerchief and a tiny embroidery frame and began initialling a corner.
"Virtuous girl," observed Betty. "You shame us all by your industry."
"It"s only that I promised Henry I would put his initials on some new handkerchiefs he bought," Amy explained. "I must hurry and finish them, for he is going West on a trip soon."
"It"s nice to have a brother," remarked Betty, idly.
She tossed some sand and little pebbles toward Grace, but the latter had actually gone to sleep, and the deep and regular breathing of Mollie proclaimed the same fact.
"Oh, I can"t stand this!" the Little Captain cried, a few minutes later.
"I want to do something. Let"s go for a little walk, Amy, and let them sleep."
"All right."
"Will you go as far as the place where we found the--"apples"?" asked Betty, with a look around to be sure no stray fishermen were in the neighborhood.
"Yes, if you like."
"Then come on. I want to see if the men came back, and tried to find the box that was buried in the sand."
It was rather a longer walk than Betty had thought, but finally she and Amy came within sight of the lone fisherman"s hut, and the log that lay on the edge of the hole in the sand, though the latter, so Betty expected, would be filled up by the action of the waves or wind ere this.
"I do hope that horrid old woman doesn"t invite us in again," Betty remarked. "She is a--pest!"
The Little Captain and Amy were walking down the sands, in the midst of a number of high dunes, or hills.
"There"s the place!" Betty said. "It doesn"t seem to have been----"
A noise behind caused her to turn suddenly. A scream came to her lips, but it was choked off by the sudden forward rush of the old crone who roughly placed her withered hand over Betty"s mouth.