of his light tan shoes, he soon stood in front of them. Here, to his credit, it must, be told that the young man did not laugh, though he may have been tempted to do so. For certainly he could never have seen a more bedraggled or disconsolate-looking group of bathers. Very quickly, however, he realized that some mishap had befallen them, and when he found that Frances was the injured one, without a word he stooped forward, lifted her in his arms, and walked with great strides across the beach.
“Where are you going, where are you going?” cried the girls.
“To that bathing house over there,” he replied; “the door is open, and we can fix a couch for her on that bench. There’s a stable up the road, and I ’ll have a doctor or a carriage here before you can turn around.”
“Brenda, run to your bath-house and get dressed,” said Julia, “I will stay with Frances until you return.”
“There’s an old golf cape in Mrs. Whittington’s bath-house,” murmured Frances, “if you could bring it here, I could use it in the carriage.”
Now while they were speaking Arthur Weston had gone off, and, in a surprisingly short time, he returned with a carriage.
“They had one harnessed,” he explained; “now where shall we go?” for he and the driver were already lifting Frances into the carriage.
“To Mrs. Whittington’s,” said Brenda, who had now come back from her own bath-house, showing very little evidence of her hasty toilet.
