“That” was a tiny spot that grew bigger as they looked and seemed to be headed in their direction.
“It’s a boat of some sort, I think,” said Vi. “But you can’t tell whether it’s a motor boat or some other kind of a craft.”
“Of course you can,” Laura broke in excitedly. “It’s got to be a motor boat because there aren’t any sails or anything. It is! It is! Oh, girls! could it be——”
“The boys?” finished Billie, shading her eyes with her hand and gazing eagerly out toward the speck that was growing larger every minute. “Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful?”
“But we’re not a bit sure it’s the boys,” Connie reminded her. “Lots of motor boats come here in the summer.”
“Oh, stop being a kill-joy,” Laura commanded, giving her a little shake. “I just feel it in my bones that the boys are in that boat. Where will they land, Connie?”
“At the dock, of course,” Connie answered, in a tone which said very plainly: “You ought to have known that without asking.”
“Well, let’s run around there then,” cried Billie, her cheeks red with excitement. “They won’t know what to do if nobody’s there to meet them.”
As always with Billie, to think a thing was to do it, and before the girls had a chance to say anything she was off, fleet-footed, down the sand in the direction of the dock.
The girls stared for a minute, then Laura started in pursuit.