"Isn't the walk enough for you?" asked Freda.
"It's very nice; but it would have been amusing to see a few niggers, or some performing dogs."
"The post office is our limit," said Blanche. "We always call a halt there. They have a splendid set of picture postcards, and some nice Goss china. A good many of us are collecting Goss."
"Then mayn't we go the least little scrap farther?" pleaded Aldred.
"Not a step!" replied Freda decisively.
Aldred said no more, and the six walked on, chatting of other matters, until they reached the outskirts of the town. The post office was a large shop, of a kind common at seaside resorts. A variety of miscellaneous articles were on sale—shell boxes, photograph frames, wicker baskets, cheap ornaments, and materials for fancy-work—and the younger girls found their allowances burning holes in their pockets, and stayed so long choosing souvenirs that their elders waxed impatient.
"Haven't you finished yet?" said Freda. "You must have turned over every postcard in the box. Blanche and I want to go to the bookseller's. I think we might leave you here for ten minutes. You'll be all right till we come back," and she departed with her fellow-prefect to a shop opposite.
The others finished their purchases and paid for them, then stood waiting until their escorts should return. The post office was a long building, and had two glass doors, one of which opened on to the main street, while the other led into a side road. To the latter door Aldred strolled leisurely, and stood gazing out at the general prospect.
"Is that the beach down there?" she asked Phœbe. "I almost think I can see bathing vans."
"Yes; this road leads directly to the parade. It's only about half a minute's walk."