"How did you get home?" gasped the two girls. "We've been looking for you everywhere?"
"Why, I climbed up the rocks and went on."
"You wretched boy! You gave us such a fright!" panted Regina.
"Mother Hubbard's dog isn't in it with you," declared Lesbia.
Derrick shrugged his shoulders.
"Can't help it if you chose to chase after me. I think I was a trump to take your hats home for you. You look uncommonly wet. Best change."
As little rivers were running from their garments down on to the hall floor, the girls took his advice and hurried into dry clothes.
"He was a mean wretch to play such a rag on us," fumed Regina, rubbing her damp hair with a towel.
"I thought nothing but a monkey could climb up those rocks. Boys have nine lives. I shan't be scared another time, whatever mad tricks he plays," declared Lesbia, buttoning her blouse in a hurry at the sound of the welcome tea-bell. "All the same," she added to herself, "Regina's far fonder of that Stripling than she'll admit, though they do spar. She had umpteen dozen fits when she thought he was drowned. If she really has such a warm corner for him, why, in the name of all common sense, can't she show it and be decent to him? I don't believe in people making a palaver about you when you're dead. If they've anything nice to say they'd better say it while you're alive and will enjoy hearing it. That's my opinion."