BRENDA’S
SUMMER AT ROCKLEY
I
ON THE SANDS
“Brenda, Brenda,” called a clear voice, “where are you, Brenda?”
“Coming, coming,” answered Brenda, from a corner of the piazza. Yet though she had answered cheerfully, she made no effort to rise from her chair. Evidently her book was too absorbing.
“Well, we can’t wait for you, you ’ll have to walk.”
“No, no. I ’ll come,” cried Brenda rising, and throwing down her book on the chair from which she had risen. “I ’ll be down as quick as a wink. My things are upstairs.”
Running into the house, Brenda for a moment was lost to sight, but only for a moment. For, quicker than “a wink,” she had returned to the piazza, and leaping down the side steps, had joined her cousin Julia waiting a little impatiently at the entrance to the driveway.
“I would just as soon walk,” said Brenda. “It is n’t very hot, and it’s only a little way to the beach.”
