One of the bathing house men ran out to help pull the bow of the boat up on the sands.
“Run along up to the hotel!” he cried. “There is no good shelter down here for you.”
The moment they could do so the three girls leaped ashore. Thus relieved of their weight, the boat was the more easily dragged out of the reach of the waves, which now began to roll in madly. The lightning increased in its intensity, the thunder reverberated from the bluff. The tempest was at its height when they hastened to mount the winding wooden stair.
“Oh, my blister! Oh, my blister!” moaned Nell, as she climbed upward.
“Everything I’ve got on sticks to me like a twin sister,” declared Amy Drew. “Oh, dear! How shall we ever get home in these soaked rags?”
“We must go to the hotel,” cried Jessie. “Come on.”
She was the first to reach the top of the stairs. There was a garden and lawn to cross to reach the veranda. As the rain was beating in from this direction none of the hotel guests was on this side of the house. The three wet girls ran as hard as they could for shelter.
Just as Jessie, leading the trio, came up the veranda steps, she heard a loud and harsh voice exclaim:
“Well, of all things! I’d like to know what you girls think you are doing here? You have no business at this hotel. Go away!”
Jessie almost stopped, and Amy and Nell ran into her.