“How awkward!” gasped Molly. “Will you forgive me, Miss Fogg?”
The hat had dropped into the water and now danced astern. Cynthia cried, rather wildly:
“How shall I ever recover it?”
“Hat overboard!” exclaimed Molly, giggling now. “Call all hands!”
“Well—it’s my only hat! I don’t believe you care,” said Cynthia, eyeing Molly doubtfully.
“Well, never mind!” Molly said. “No use crying over spilled milk.”
“That isn’t milk,” said the freckled one. “It was a perfectly good hat.”
“Oh!” gasped Molly.
“What’s the matter, Miss Granger?” asked the tall girl, suspiciously. “Don’t you suppose I paid good money for that hat?”
“I—I don’t know,” giggled Molly. “Only if you did, you must have been color blind.”