"Lovely. Mc—Mr. Armitage can take us to the starting place at Easton's Beach and then pick us up there when we get back. After that—"
"Hoop-la," laughed Sara, and the two young women—nothing but school girls now—fell into each other's arms, hugging joyously.
When Armitage appeared again at the porte cochère a few minutes before five o'clock, two very changed, but merry young women awaited him. Anne flashed her eyes at Armitage.
"To Easton's Beach, McCall," she said sweetly.
Easton's Beach was at the height of the day's exodus of excursionists to Providence, Fall River, Taunton and elsewhere, as Armitage drew alongside the sun-baked board walk in front of the main bathing pavilion. Trolley cars, which had rolled empty down the long hill by the ocean side, were now ascending laden to the guards, and the ocean, relieved of its bathers, whose suits of multifarious cuts and colors had grievously marred the blue waters, had recovered its beautiful serenity.
"We are going to take a barge ride, McCall," said Anne, as they alighted from the car. "You might follow us at a respectful distance, though, so you can pick us up when we decide to get out."
Armitage touched his cap and sat watching amusedly, while Anne and Sara with exaggerated swinging strides walked toward a barge comfortably filled with a heterogeneous assemblage of sightseers. They paused uncertainly at the side of the clumsy vehicle and were thus espied by the driver, who was on the point of starting his horses.
"Whoa!" he cried, pulling at the reins. "Here you are, ladies. Two seats in the front for the sunset drive. Last chance of the day. All the way round for fifty cents. All points pointed out, with inside information."
Sara glanced doubtfully at Anne, but the girl already had her foot on the step.
"We ain't going all the way," she said. "Can we get out where we please?"