“It is. I thought first it was a boy, she has no cap on and her hair is so slick. I wonder if they really know her?” queried Grace.
“They don’t have to know anyone; we ought to understand that. Now, we must pass them on the way up the rock. There’s Mackey whistling. Let’s go.”
“It will look as if we walked by them purposely,” Louise hesitated.
“Oh, no it won’t. We have to take that path, besides, why shouldn’t we speak to Peg?” asked Cleo. She did not know Grace had received the letter with its plea for discontinuing the friendly relationship.
“All right, come along. We may as well have it over with. They are sure to say something sarcastic,” Julia raced on ahead, so whatever might be said would not be aimed directly at her.
But for once the inquisitive two did not heed passersby. Neither did Peg appear to see the Scouts, for she and the two flashily dressed ones were talking in such an excited manner, their remarks, in part at least, could be easily overheard.
“Now, remember, we have warned you,” said one, her voice sharp and imperative.
“I have no reason to fear anything of the kind,” Peg retorted. She stood close to the little path leading from the lake to the woodland road, and along this the bathers had to pass to reach the camp grounds. Her suit was dark blue jersey, she wore no socks but looked only a little girl, or even a boy, with her closely cut, straight hair and no bathing cap. As they passed along each Scout was conscious there was a certain strength and individuality so simply outlined in the appearance of the oblivious bather.
“We promised daddy we would speak to you,” said the other girl, she in the geranium outfit, “otherwise we wouldn’t do so. I can tell you we are not anxious to be seen——”
These snatches had been heard piecemeal, as the Scouts came and went past the spot where the conversation was being held, but when it was all put together a short time later the total seemed to imply that these girls were somehow threatening Peg.