“Shall we start right off?” asked Babe.
“That is just as you please,” said Ethel, “but it’s quite a walk to the Hog Island landing, and we might have to wait a few minutes for a boat.”
“Then by all means let’s go now,” said Babe, rising energetically. “I don’t care so much about the surf bathing, but it seems as if I couldn’t wait to get to the fruit orchard part.”
So the bathing contingent hurried down to the Casino to get their suits; those who did not care to go into the surf collected books and fancy-work to help them while away the morning under the trees in the orange grove, and presently the party, which as a matter-of-course included Dr. Eaton, was wending its way to the wharf.
During the short row to the island, Babe interrogated the boatman as to the exact amount of fruit that was included in the quarter’s toll.
“All you lak,” said the big black fellow with a grin. “One man he eat forty oranges, and some they stay over all day and git thar dinner and thar supper. Don’t you worry ’bout that, missy.”
“I shan’t,” said Babe, with a sigh of satisfaction. “I don’t believe I shall have to pay extra. Just imagine eating forty oranges in one day!”
The sun was very hot on the water, and it was a great relief to get into the shade of the tamarind and almond trees that lined the trail across Hog Island.
“Dear me!” said Babbie, when they had reached the other side. “The bathing-houses are right out in the boiling sun, and the white beach looks sizzling hot. I’m going to stay here with Mrs. Wales.”
“I’m going to stay with her, too,” said Roberta. “I didn’t even bring my bathing things, because I knew it would be too hot for me.”