"Oh, that's Milly!" screamed her cousin. "I'm so very glad."
"So am I," added her mother. "I was really alarmed."
"Why, what have you been doing!" exclaimed Emily, as she caught sight of her cousin whose clothes were dripping with wet; but whose face was beaming with delight.
"I was almost drowned," said Milly calmly. "But I've got some beauties. Look here!"
She held up her basket, lifting two or three bright red pieces of moss.
"But, Milly, you'll take cold with those wet clothes. Come right to mamma."
"Well, I will, if you'll put this under Uncle George's seat. Don't let any body see you. I'll show them to you when we get home."
Poor Milly was indeed a sight to behold. She had lost the ribbon that tied back her hair. And by constantly putting up her wet hands to push the locks from her face, she had covered her forehead with sand; her boots were saturated with water, and her skirts dripped with wet. Nobody seemed to know what to do with her, till grandma proposed to take off her wet garments, wrap her in a shawl, and let her stay in the carriage till her clothes dried, which they would in a few minutes, if hung in the hot sun.
Lying on the seat beside grandma, with the roaring of the billows to lull her, Milly's tender heart was at rest.
She told the old lady that she jumped on a rock to look at the waves, and staid there so long that the water came up all around her. At first, she thought it would go away again; but it came up higher and higher, until it covered her feet on the rock.