Mrs. De Lancey Smythe stalked majestically over to the little group, frowning her displeasure. “Whatever possessed you and Miss Thurston to rush madly into the water after a child you never saw before?” she said to Marian, whose happy face had darkened at her mother’s first word. “Really, Marian, dear, you are at times past understanding.”
“Mrs. Smythe,” said Barbara coldly. “We could never have been so heartless as to stand on the shore and wait for some one else to rescue that little child. I felt it my duty to make some effort and I am sure that Marian did.”
“Really, Miss Thurston,” retorted Mrs. Smythe, “I addressed my remark to Marian.”
“Yes,” said Bab, her eyes flashing, “but you included me in it, therefore I felt justified in answering it.”
For a moment there was a tense silence. Bab stood looking composedly into the angry eyes of Mrs. De Lancey Smythe. Then Ruth said, with superb indifference. “Oh, come on, girls, don’t waste your whole morning, here. Bab, you’ll catch cold. Hurry right up to the hotel with Marian. Good-bye, Marian, we’ll see you later.”
Utterly ignoring Mrs. Smythe, Ruth turned on her heel and accompanied by Grace and Mollie continued the stroll along the beach.
“My I’d hate to meet Mrs. De Lancey Smythe alone on a dark night,” remarked Mollie, with a giggle. “Didn’t she look ready to scratch Bab’s eyes out, though.”
“She found her match in Mistress Barbara,” observed Grace. “She can’t intimidate our Bab.”
Bab hurried along the beach toward the hotel full of sympathy for the luckless Marian, and vowing within herself to be a true friend to the girl who had been cheated of her girlhood.