This had been going on for some time before they even realized it, they were having such fun. Then it was Connie who spoke.
“Doesn’t it look a little—a little—threatening, Paul?” she asked timidly. “Do you suppose it is going to rain?”
“No, I don’t think it’s going to rain,” Paul answered, his hands on the wheel, his eyes rather anxiously fixed on the water ahead. “But I do think we’re going to have one of those sudden heavy mists that come off the coast here. Dad said to look out for them, because they’re thick enough to cut, and if you get caught in one you can’t see your hand before your face.”
The girls were sober enough now as they looked at each other.
“But what makes you think we’re going to have one, Paul?” asked Laura humbly.
“Because the air is so still and muggy,” Paul answered, then added with a wave of his hand out over the water: “Look—do you see that?”
“That” was a faint, misty cloudlike vapor hanging so low that it seemed almost to touch the water. And suddenly the girls were conscious that their hair was wet and also their hands and their clothes.
“Goodness, we must be in it now!” said Vi looking wonderingly down at her damp skirt. “Only it’s so light you can’t see it.”
“I’m afraid it won’t be light very long,” said Paul grimly, as he swung The Shelling around and headed back the way they had come.
“What are you going to do?” asked Laura, still more humbly, for she now was beginning to think that she was to blame for the fix they were in—if indeed it were a fix.