CHAPTER XXI.
BERGERS AND GAMINS.
The next morning was showery, but not devoid of sun; and, leaving No. 1 to rest in the hotel, Nos. 2 and 3 set out early for a country walk.
Our first object was to escape our juvenile foes; our second to get upon the sea-shore, which, we had heard, was covered with beautiful shells. We managed (it being school time, and so a portion of the little savages out of the way) to effect the first; but the second was not so easy of attainment as it sounded.
Everywhere, except just beneath the town, the shore was surrounded by a ridge of sand-hills, divided from the sea by broad, boggy plains.
The rain that had fallen the last few days made us sink in over the tops of our boots when we attempted to cross these bogs. So, for some distance, we continued skirting the sand-hills, and following a little path, which presently led to a small running stream.
As we were preparing to make our leap over this, a voice suddenly arrested us.
"What! You don't know the country—you? You two women must not go alone among the hills!"
Looking up, we saw a young woman standing in the stream before us, arms akimbo, and contemplating us with disapproving curiosity. Her face was brown and pretty, with the brightest of coal-black eyes and white teeth; her petticoats were pinned up above her knees, and, with her shapely arms covered with soapsuds, and her brown legs planted firmly in the rapid stream, she presented an artistic appearance well worthy of the brush of a Faed or a Nicol. Thee was something audacious and determined, and yet straight-forward, about the young woman's address and appearance, which impressed us both.
"Why not?" we asked.
"But why!" she retorted, peremptorily. "Do you know the country, then? But of course you do not. Any one can see that you are strangers!"