“We have got to get under shelter!” shouted Jessie, and dragged her two friends farther into the veranda. Belle and Sally might have been mean enough to try to drive them back, but at this point somebody interfered.
A long window, like a door, opened and a lady looked out, shielding herself from the wind by holding the glass door.
“Girls! Girls!” she cried. “You will be drowned out there. Come right in.”
“Fine!” gasped Amy, not at all under her breath. “Belle doesn’t own the hotel, after all!”
“It’s Mrs. Olliver!” exclaimed Sally Moon in a shrill voice, as she and Belle came out of retirement and likewise approached the open window.
“Come right in here,” said the lady, cheerfully, as Jessie and her friends approached. “You are three very plucky girls. I saw you out in your boat when the storm struck you. Come in and I’ll have my maid find you something dry to put on.”
“Oh, fine!” sighed Amy again.
The trio of storm-beaten girls hastened in out of the wind and rain; but when Belle and Sally would have followed, Mrs. Olliver stopped them firmly.
“Don’t you belong in the hotel?” she asked. “Then go around to the main entrance if you wish to come in. You are at home.”
She actually closed the French window—but gently—in the faces of the bold duo. Amy, at least, was vastly amused. She winked wickedly at Jessie and Nell Stanley.