For one terrible minute Vi had been afraid she had done just this, but now, with a sigh of relief, she produced the check and handed it over to Connie.
“My, but that was a narrow escape,” she murmured, as they hurried down the crowded platform.
The boat that plied from the mainland to Lighthouse Island and one or two more small islands scattered about near the coast was a small but tidy little vessel that was really capable of better speed than most people gave her credit for. She was painted a sort of dingy white, and large black letters along her bow proclaimed her to be none other than the Mary Ann.
And now as the girls, with several other passengers, stepped on board and felt the cool breeze upon their faces they breathed deep of the salty air and gazed wonderingly out over the majestic ocean rolling on and on in unbroken swells toward the distant horizon.
Gone was all the fatigue of the long train ride. They forgot that their lungs were full of soft coal dirt, that their hands were grimy, and their faces, too. They were completely under the spell of that great, mysterious tyrant—the ocean.
“Isn’t this grand!”
“Just smell the salt air!”
“Makes you feel braced up already,” came from Billie, who had been filling her lungs to the utmost. “Oh, girls! I’m just crazy to jump in and have a swim.”
“I’m with you on that,” broke out Vi. “Oh, I’m sure we’re going to have just the best times ever!”
There was a fair-sized crowd to get aboard, made up partly of natives and partly of city folks. The passengers were followed by a number of trunks and a small amount of freight.