"Indeed. How nice. But, Helen, I thought she was very gay and devoted to society. What will she do in this colony of girls, with scarcely a man to say a pretty thing to her?"
"I don't know," replied Helen, a shade of annoyance crossing her face. "I think, perhaps, the girls may be mistaken about her. I feel quite sure she will be happy here."
Just then Nan Birdsall came rushing down over the sands, warm but radiant.
"Going in, Nan?" called Eleanor in greeting.
"No, indeed," breathlessly. "I hate the water more than a cat does," and Nan dropped down on the sand at Eleanor's side, and, taking off her hat, fanned her flushed face.
"Where is Em this morning?" queried Helen.
"What a superfluous question," laughed Nan. "Don't you see that the Sylph is in the harbor? Of course, Em has Mr. Churchill in tow."
"How will Nathalie like that?" asked Eleanor with an amused smile.
"Oh, Nat won't care," replied Nan, picking up a pebble and sending it skimming across the water. "She is far too sensible."
"Look over your shoulder, Nan, and see your prediction verified;" and surely enough, strolling across the beach, in their direction, came Emily Varian, with Wendell Churchill at her side.