There was no good standing there, wondering any longer, so they started off to look for her.
"Let us ask those children near if they have seen her," proposed Lena; and running down to where they were at play, they inquired of them if they had seen their little sister. "She was sitting playing there close to the rocks."
"Yes, they had seen her, but she had gone away some time ago in that direction," pointing fortunately to the direction that led towards home.
"And I don't wonder either; it must have been jolly dull for her all by herself," remarked a boy loud enough for the two girls to hear, as they were hurrying off to look for Lucy.
They both blushed scarlet, as they heard these words, and knew that they were meant to hear them. "What a horrid rude boy! But, Milly, I wish we had not left her now."
"So do I," was the answer given with a sigh.
As they skirted the rocks, they came upon a long stretch of sand, now well covered with children. Close to the water's edge were several of them paddling, their bare legs gleaming in the water as they danced and jumped about. And there among them, gazing with delight at their antics, was the missing Lucy. So close was she to the water, that the little waves not only crept up close to her feet, but rippled gently over them, much to the child's delight, who clapped her hands and screamed with pleasure at every wetting.
"You naughty child!" said Lena, as she rushed up to her, followed more slowly by Milly, who was limping from the cut on her leg.
Lucy turned round, her rosy little face beaming with delight, not one whit abashed by Lena's angry words.
"You naughty child! what made you leave and give us such a fright?" Lena was like many other people who have been frightened; when once their fears are removed, they give vent to their feelings by being angry, and, strange to say, consider they have a right to be aggrieved. "You are so wet, too; what will Mama say?"