Hilliard and I were just starting for the beach that morning, when Dillon came out on the piazza with a message. "Mr. Hilliard," she said, "your mother would like to speak to you." So off he went with, "Excuse me; I'll be back in a few minutes," to me.
But instead, presently back came Dillon with another message: "Mrs. Erveng asks, Will you please to excuse Mr. Hilliard; she would like him to do something for her for a while."
So off I went for my walk, alone. I strolled down to the beach and sat in the shade of a big rock and looked at the waves,—watching them coming in and going out, and making up all sorts of thoughts about them. But after a while I got tired of that, and began wondering what they were all doing at home without Nannie, or Miss Marston, or papa; and then I felt so lonely and homesick that I just had to get up and walk about. And then I got into trouble,—I don't know another girl that gets into scrapes as I do!
There were lots of little coves about the beach,—the water in them was just as clear as crystal; and as I stepped from rock to rock, bending down to look into the depths, what should I do but slip,—the rocks are slippery,—and land in the middle of a cove, up to my waist in water!
There was nothing to do but to scramble out,—the rocks ran too far out into the ocean to think of walking round them,—and I can assure you it was no easy thing to accomplish with my wet skirts clinging to me. I scratched my hands, and scraped my shoes, and got my sleeves and the whole front of my nice gingham stained with the green slimy moss that covered the rocks.
But at last I got out; then came the walk up the beach to the house,—there was no other way of getting there,—and you may imagine my feelings when, half-way up, I discovered that Mrs. Erveng was seated on the piazza in her invalid's chair. I saw her put her lorgnette to her eyes; I imagined I heard her say to Hilliard, who was arranging a cushion back of her head, "Who is that extraordinary looking creature coming up the beach?" and I longed to just burrow in the sand and get out of her sight.
Hilliard came running to meet me. "You've fallen into the water—you are wet! I hope you're not hurt?" he exclaimed, as he reached me.
It was on the tip of my tongue to answer sharply, "I have fallen into the water; did you expect me to be dry?" It was such a silly speech of his! But I was afraid of Mrs. Erveng, so I just said carelessly,—as if I were in the habit of tumbling into the ocean with all my clothes on every day in the week,—"Oh, I just slipped off one of the rocks; I got my feet wet." And there I was, mind you, wet almost to my waist, and such a figure!
Any one of our boys—even Jack, and he is pretty dense sometimes—would have seen the joke, and we'd have had a hearty laugh, anyway, out of the situation; but not a smile appeared on Hilliard's face. Either he didn't see the fun at all, or else he was too deadly polite to laugh. If he had even said roughly, "Didn't I tell you not to go there!" I wouldn't have minded it as much as his "How unfortunate!" and his helpless look. I was afraid to say anything for fear I'd be rude again, so we walked up to the piazza in solemn silence.
"Good morning!" Mrs. Erveng said pleasantly, as I laboured up the steps. "An accident? I am so glad you are not hurt! Hilliard should have warned you about those slippery rocks—oh, he did—I see. Dillon will help you change your things; ring for her, Hilliard. Too bad, Betty, to spoil that pretty frock."