They turned the corner round a projecting finger of rock, and a new little beach, white and gleaming, lay in front of them.
“Well,” said Jeremy, “here we are. What shall we play?”
There was dead silence.
“We might play pirates,” he continued. “I'll be the pirate, and Mary can sit on that rock until the water comes round her, and Charlotte shall hide in that cave—”
There was still silence. Looking about him, he discovered from his sisters' countenances that they were resolved to lend no kind of assistance, and he then from that deduced the simple fact that his sisters hated Charlotte and were not going to make it pleasant for her in any way if they could help it. Oh! it was a miserable picnic! The worst that he'd ever had.
“It's too hot to play,” said Helen loftily. “I'm going to sit down over there.”
“So am I,” said Mary.
They moved away, their heads in the air and their legs ridiculously stiff.
Jeremy gazed at Charlotte in distress. It was very wicked of his sisters to go off like that, but it was also very silly of Charlotte to stand there so helplessly. He was beginning to think that perhaps he would give the thimble to Miss Jones after all.
“Would you like to go and see the pool where the little crabs are?” he asked.