At that Cynthia Fogg burst into a low, agreeable laugh. Her blue eyes brightened and twinkled. Under her usual demure manner there certainly was some sense of fun in this strange girl.
“If I could only get to my trunk,” Beth began, but Molly cried:
“She’ll look all right bareheaded.”
“They will take me for an immigrant,” said Cynthia.
“That’s better than looking like a scarecrow,” said the saucy Molly. “Jolly! if you’d worn that freak hat up to the school, and the girls had seen you——”
“But I sha’n’t mix with the young ladies who attend Rivercliff School,” said Cynthia Fogg, demurely.
“You won’t mind going without a hat for one day—and on this boat?” said Beth.
“Of course she won’t!” cried Molly.
“I’ll leave mine in the stateroom, too,” suggested Beth.
“So will I,” the jolly girl declared.