At the big yellow house on the Cliff, there was great excitement. Mrs. Harcourt was so nearly frantic that the best efforts of her friends failed to comfort her.
Earlier in the day she had gaily laughed at Gwen's absence at the noon meal, and if she was at all disturbed because of her sailing trip in the leaky cement tub, she did not show it.
But that twilight should be hanging over the sea, and night fast approaching, and Gwen out of sight for the second time was really enough to frighten any woman, even if she were far less nervous than Mrs. Harcourt.
A searching party was formed, not one of whom had the slightest idea where to look, when, just as the men were about to start out, a small boy appeared in the driveway; a boy who seemed to wish to be unnoticed.
"Hello! I say, Max! You usually know where the little Harcourt girl is. Do you know now?" said a little man on the outside of the group.
"Le'me go!" snarled Max, "I want some supper," and he tried to squirm out of the firm grasp of the little man's hand.
"Not till you've answered," said a tall, athletic fellow.
"Come now, little chap, speak up!" Mrs. Deland, faultless dressed now appeared.
"Oh, it is really absurd to think my little son has the least idea where——"