The guests were disgusted with the silly child, and sillier mother. She had acted in about the same manner at every meal.
It happened that she had been up in her room over the piazza on the morning that her three little friends were dancing upon the beach.
They were too far distant for her to guess who they might be.
The field glasses lay on the dresser, and Gwen snatched them, ran to the window, and peeped at the dancing figures.
"Oo—oo! It's Princess Polly, and Rose and Sprite. I'm going right over to see them, and dance with them, too!"
She flung the glasses down into the nearest chair, and ran down the stairs, across the lawn, and then commenced to make her way carefully down the rough steps that had been cut in the ledge.
Even Gwen could not descend those steps at high speed.
Once on the sand she believed she could hasten, but the tide never reached the ledge upon which the house stood, so the sand at its base was dry, and anything but easy to hurry over.
At last she reached the damp part, and then how her feet flew over the firm, level surface.
She seemed tireless as she sped along, and she ran without stopping until she stood before them. They had not seen her approaching, because a high cliff had hidden her until she sprang out from behind it.