“Of course we couldn’t really expect anything would happen just because we wanted it to,” declared Eleanor.
“Of course not,” her chums concurred. In her heart, however, each girl had been secretly hoping that something would happen.
The following morning saw the Wayfarers again on the sands. This time, however, they had come down to the beach for a swim, Miss Martha dutifully accompanying them.
Almost the first object which met their gaze when they reached the sands was the book. It still lay exactly where Patsy had deposited it, the white edge of the letter showing above the book’s blue binding.
“She hasn’t been here!” Patsy cried out disappointedly. “I guess our plan isn’t going to amount to much after all.”
“Oh, don’t be discouraged,” smiled Eleanor. “Give her time.”
“Let’s forget all about it,” suggested Bee. “Nothing ever happens when one’s awfully anxious for it to happen. It generally happens after one has stopped thinking about it and gone on to something else. It’s a glorious morning for a swim. Let’s hurry into our bathing suits and take advantage of it.”
This wise view of the matter appealing to the disappointed authors of the little plot, the four girls betook themselves to the bath house to get ready for their morning dip in the ocean.
Having now become mildly interested in Patsy’s scheme to catch a wood nymph, Miss Martha took pains to further it by establishing herself on the sands at a point on the far side of the bath house. From there she could neither see the spot where the book lay, nor could anyone who might chance to approach it see her. This maneuver was not lost on her charges, who agreed with Patsy’s gleeful assertion that Auntie was just as anxious for “something to happen” as they were.
Soon engrossed in the fun of splashing and swimming about in the sun-warmed salt water, the Wayfarers forgot everything that did not pertain to the enjoyment of the moment.