“Oh, see here, Danny Seabrooke, you’ll have to eat that. Think I’ll stand for any such talk? Eat it now, or else prove it,” challenged Hal.
“I can prove it,” Danny waved confidently. “Just watch me lift Geraldine from the shifting sands.”
“Yes, just watch him,” drawled Lawrence Armitage. He took up a guitar, temporarily idle on the sands, and began to strum it lightly. His deep blue eyes rested mirthfully on Danny and Jerry.
“Wait a second,” Danny elaborately braced his feet in the sand. “Now, ready! Heave, heave, ho!”
Jerry suddenly let go of his hands and dropped back on the beach. “No, thank you.” She pretended displeasure. “I don’t care for your wonderful assistance.” She directed a scornful glance at her would-be helper.
“You did that on purpose,” accused Danny. “You are a cruel, cruel girl. Suppose I had lost my balance and dug my nose into the sand?”
“Sorry you didn’t,” was the unfeeling reply.
“Squabbling again,” Laurie reached out a helping hand to Jerry and drew her to her feet. Danny looked sadly on.
“Please forgive me and continue to regard me as your friend. That’s all I ask of you,” he pleaded with stony Jerry.
“You talk like a popular song,” she criticized. She broke into smiles when he knelt on the sand before her and contritely offered her his hand.