Cricket at the Seashore

by Elizabeth Weston Timlow

"Such a child," sighed Hilda, with the air of forty years. "She is reprehensible!" aiming at irrepressible.

Eunice and Edna joined her on the piazza.

"Where is Cricket?" Eunice asked.

"She's rampaging off," said Hilda. "I'm so hot that I don't know what to do, and there's Cricket calmly going out on that scorching water. Look at her, now!"

The girls followed Hilda's indignant finger, which pointed to where Cricket, having adjusted old Billy to her satisfaction in the stern, was pushing off the boat. The tide was nearly out, and in another half-hour the flats would be bare.

"CRICKET SAT DOWN ON THE BEACH WITH THE CHILDREN"

"I wonder if she'll get stuck again," said Edna, with interest, shading her eyes to look. "Cricket! Cricket! don't—forget—the—tide!" she called, making a speaking-tube of her hands.

"No," called Cricket, in reply, "I'm only going a little distance, just for exercise."

"For exercise!" groaned Hilda, sinking down in her hammock.