least you told us so. I have noticed that you have been in a brown study ever since this literary fit seized you. But that won’t help us about the key.”
“There is mamma waving her sunshade toward us. I suppose she sees what has happened. She always says that I am not to be trusted with keys. I wish you’d go to her, Julia. I hate to have to explain.”
Julia ran along the hot strip of sand that lay between her and Mrs. Barlow. In a few minutes she returned holding one hand above her head rather triumphantly.
“There, Brenda, it’s all right. Aunt Anna found that she had the duplicate key in her chatelain bag. She called me to see if we needed it. She suspected that something was wrong when she saw us fumbling with the lock.”
“Good enough,” cried Brenda, “I should have been terribly cross if we had had to turn back without our bath. Keys are a nuisance. Any way there are two separate rooms inside the bath-house, and we can both dress at the same time. I hate those little bath-houses where you have to stand about waiting your turn.”
In a short time Julia and Brenda were ready for the plunge. Their dark-blue bathing suits were made alike, high-necked, with long-sleeved blouses, and skirts reaching below the knee, trimmed with rows and rows of fine white braid.
Brenda dashed into the water without a second of hesitation, and almost immediately she began to swim. Julia looked at her in astonishment. She herself had been in the water only two or three times in her life. She not
