"Well, what'll we do? Paddle around here and wait for it to come back?"
"I don't mind admitting that I'm a little bit tired," said Mary. "I'm not going to wait out here in the middle of the bay for Mr. Marshall to turn his yacht around. How far is it over to that shore?"
"It's only a few hundred yards. Shall we go?"
"We'll go there and wait until we see what they're going to do."
Several minutes afterward Pete stood waist deep on a sandy bottom. There was a tiny beach in front of them, where a cove nestled between two rocky horns. He gazed out into the harbor.
"It's still going—the other way," he reported.
Mary was also standing and staring. The Sunshine looked discouragingly small.
"Oh, well, we'll sit on the beach and get some sun. If Bill—if Mr. Marshall thinks he's having fun with us he's greatly mistaken. I'm having the time of my ecclesiastical life."
He waded ashore and sat down on the sand. But Mary did not follow. She stood immersed to her waist, biting her lip. There was a look of annoyance and a hint of confusion in her eyes.