“Don’t we look like it, Daddy?” asked Carolyn.
“Something has made you all very rosy, I should say, and our little Gypsy sparkles like a—well, whatever does sparkle.”
“Betty has had her swim in the Atlantic Ocean at last,” laughed Carolyn. “She found it a little bit chilly, but I think she’s going to try it again later in the day.”
“Of course. Oh, Mr. Gwynne, it is perfectly lovely here! I’m so delighted that you brought me!”
“So are we. I’m sure that you will help our enthusiasms, Betty Lee.”
CHAPTER III
A MERRY WHIRL OF GOOD TIMES
It was as Betty had said. One never knew what interesting happening would come next, though some were planned. New adventures in daily pleasures and one almost tragic event were here for Betty Lee in the few weeks that lay before her in Maine. But she never could get satisfactory photographs of the old sea that stirred her so. Clouds and surf never did come out as they really looked. She concluded that Arthur Penrose or some real artist, who could give the coloring to sky and sea and paint the clouds as they looked, ought to be there to do justice to water and sky. But Betty did not talk much about her feeling of the sea, aside from the joking about the consummation of her desire to swim in it.
The Waites were the first friends to look them up. Marcella came over the next day from a cottage at no great distance, for the Waites had come on by train and arrived before the Gwynne party. She invited them at once to a beach party, “by moonlight,” said she. “We’ll not swim this time, but have a great picnic, with everybody there.” Marcella looked meaningly at Carolyn as she said this.
“Larry’s visiting some of his college friends and will be home in time for the beach party, I think. He may bring his chum with him. We don’t know. If I weren’t so busy, I’d tell you more about everybody. Several girls from our sorority are driving over this afternoon and Peggy Pollard is going to stay.
“Peggy!” exclaimed Carolyn. “Why I invited her with us and she couldn’t come!”