“Coming! Coming! Here!” shouted Mr. Merrill reassuringly as he dashed over to his little daughter, picked her up by the shoulders and set her, safe and sound, on dry sand just in time to miss a fair sized wave.
“I guess I’m wet!” said Mary Jane.
“I guess you are,” laughed Mr. Merrill, “but I guess things will dry and you’re not so very awfully too wet—not enough to spoil the party, is she, mother?”
Mrs. Merrill looked thoughtful and all the children waited anxiously for her answer. Would Mary Jane have to go clear off home and miss the party and everything! But it wasn’t to be as bad as all that. Mrs. Merrill remembered the warm day, the glowing sun that was still bright and warm and she also remembered the hot fire Linn had underway and the warm sand all around the fire.
“Of course she isn’t wet enough to spoil the party,” said Mrs. Merrill, much to every one’s relief. “Only she’ll have to stay close by the fire till she gets warm and dry. Suppose we appoint her head cook and make her stay right there where it’s hot?”
“She’ll get dry then!” exclaimed Ed, so fervently that they all knew he had had many a hot face from working by the fire at previous picnics.
“But how about your castles?” asked Mr. Holden, “weren’t we to have an exhibit?”
But the castles! Dear me! In the excitement of Mary Jane’s tumble, no one had given a thought to the castles. They were stepped on, and trampled down and all matted down into the sand.
“That’s just too bad!” said Mrs. Merrill.
“Pooh!” exclaimed John, dismissing the whole question of castles with one wave of the hand, “who cares about castles! We’re going to have supper.” And every one set to work.