“How terrible!” cried Jessie. “She is not a bad child at all, but she is wild enough.”
When they swam ashore later they found Henrietta on her good behavior with Momsy. Nobody on the sands had chanced to see the excitement out by the raft. Or, if they had, it was merely supposed that the four young people from Roselawn were playing in the water.
Jessie, however, felt rather serious about it. And she knew she would never go into the sea again at Station Island without thinking about sharks.
While they were playing hand-ball on the beach, still in their bathing suits, a low-wheeled pony carriage came along the drive from the upper end of the island, and Amy’s sharp eyes spied and recognized the two girls seated on the back seat of the vehicle.
“And that’s Bill Brewster driving!” cried Amy. “Some difference between the speed of that quadruped and his sports car.”
“One thing sure,” chuckled Burd. “He can’t do so much damage with that old Dobbin as he did with the car he drives about New Melford.”
“Belle and Sally have got a hen on,” said the slangy Amy to Jessie. “See them whispering together?”
“I can see what they are up to from right where I stand,” announced Darry, dropping the ball. “Come on, Burd! Let’s beat it for the raft again. That’s one place those two girls can’t follow us without bathing suits.”
“He, he!” giggled his sister. “I hope they sit right down here and wait for you to come ashore.”
“Send out our supper by the lifeguard,” called Burd, as he followed his chum into the surf. “We fear sharks less than we do a certain brand of featherless biped.”