“Pig!” ejaculated Bess, in disgust. “That’s all boys think of–their stomachs.”
“Oh, don’t be so hateful, Bess,” advised Frank. “Come on; the rest of us are going to walk around a little to settle our luncheon, before tackling the paddles again.”
“Humph! with the boys?” snapped Bess, seeing Wyn start off with Dave by her side. “Not me, thank you!”
“All right,” chuckled Frank Cameron. “You can keep Tubby company.”
But that suggestion made Bess even more angry, and she went off with her nose in the air, and all alone. But as the crowd of young folk came around the east end of Ware Island, they, saw Bess standing upon the brink of a steep bank, under a small tree, where the water had washed out a good deal of the earth in a sort of cave beneath where she stood.
“Hi, Bessie! get back from there!” shouted Dave, warningly. “That place is likely to cave in.”
“Then you certainly would get a ducking,” added Frank.
“Pooh! I guess I know what I’m about,” said the girl. “I’m no baby.”
“You’re acting like one,” growled Dave. “That place is dangerous.”
“It’s not, Mr. Smartie!” cried Bess, and she stamped her foot in anger.