"But it's raining so!" protested Mollie, with a quick look at her chum.
"I know. But we're neither sugar nor salt, and this isn't the first rain we've been out in. Besides, I'm sure, in there, it will smell of—fish! I can't bear to be shut up in a stuffy cabin that smells of fish. I vote we stay out. See, it is beginning to clear already," and she pointed to a streak of light in the west.
"Is that your real reason—a dislike of the smell of—fish?" asked Mollie, in a low voice, that Betty alone could hear.
"Not exactly, no," was the reply, equally guarded. "I happened to catch a glimpse of some faces at the window of that hut, and I did not like the look of them—they were—ugh! I don't know what to say," and Betty gave a slight shiver that was not caused entirely by the chilling rain.
"I saw them, too," spoke Mollie, in louder tones now, for Grace and Amy had walked on ahead. "And one of them was—a woman's face."
"Yes, but such a face!" agreed Betty. "It was hard—cruel—oh, I'll never go in that hut."
"Nor will I. The rain is stopping, I think."
"Then let's walk back to Ocean View," proposed Betty. "What do you say, girls?" she called to Amy and Grace. "Shall we walk back? It's stopping, and the sand will be firm and hard after the rain."
"I don't mind," spoke Amy, always willing to be accommodating.
"Oh, well, I suppose we'll have to, if the boys don't come for us," assented Grace.