"Who is a 'fraid cat?" demanded Miss Elting, pulling herself up on the beach with her hands.
"I am," answered Tommy, speaking for herself.
"Who says you are?"
"Buthter."
"Margery, I am ashamed of you. You have evidently forgotten that Grace showed how little she was afraid when she was lost at sea the other night," chided the guardian.
"Yeth, I'm a 'fraid cat. But I'd rather be a 'fraid cat than a fat cat!" declared the little, lisping girl with an earnestness that made them all smile. Harriet came swinging in with long, steady strokes, the last one landing her on the sand with the greater part of her body out of the shallow water.
"Why wouldn't you let me go across, Miss Elting?" she asked.
"You would be late for breakfast."
"Oh! I thought you feared I might drown," answered Harriet whimsically.
"Once is enough," answered Jane. "There goes the fish horn. Hurry, girls! We are going to be late."