"Are you sure you left them here?" asked Louise again.
"Positive," replied Grace.
"And I saw them when I went for my bag," said Elizabeth. "I remember now, I left the pocket flash light burning—forgot to turn it off."
"You left a light in the sand by our things!" exclaimed Cleo. "Brilliant Betty! Well, why wouldn't the small boys walk off with them, either for fun or profit."
"I see nothing to do but play hop scotch home," said Helen dolefully. "And they were my best patent leathers."
"My silk stockings broke the family bank," chimed in Louise. "Mother had just declared they would be the very last pair."
"Let's go to the pier and beg matches," suggested Isabel. "I don't fancy skipping all the way to Third Avenue 'as is,' whatever way that may be, but I believe it applies to any sort of goods not up to the best mark, and with bare feet I don't feel quite par excellence."
"Still you do the Greek dances beautifully," consoled Louise. "Let us take this philosophically. We have lost our booties and we must go home. Now let's——" and she raced off with all the barefoot scouts after her.
Not that they minded that in the least, but the loss of silk stockings and pumps was not a good joke, even to the jolly True Treds.
Danger of broken glass and alighting on sharp pebbles varied the hopping, skipping and jumping, until the last scout dusted her toes and tried to explain the bare-foot stunt to surprised relatives.