In less time than it would seem possible to accomplish so much, Jack and Ed lifted the light form of the sick woman into the car, and, while Beatrice supported her mother on the right, Jack took his place at the wheel, and started off toward the hotel.
“We will send the auto back for you young ladies,” called Beatrice. “It won’t take any time to get to the hotel.”
The car once out of sight, Walter and Ed rushed into the bungalow, smashed a couple of dry boxes, and thrust them into the little stone fireplace, put a match to a bundle of paper, and then all four, who had assisted in the rescue, stood before the blaze, while steam sizzled up from the water that fell in puddles on the floor from the soaked garments.
“We did get it,” remarked Ed. “I never swam before—this way.”
“Is there anything wetter than wet clothes?” asked Cora.
“Oh, yes,” replied Bess. “I think the wettest thing I have ever found is the—bottom of the sea! Mercy, but I did think I was gone!”
“You were,” replied Walter, swishing a few drops of the too plentiful water in her eyes. “You were gone, but not forgotten, and you came back like—the famous penny!”
“Oh, you can joke!” retorted Bess. “But I tell you I was almost washed out.”
“Worse than the laundry,” teased Ed. “Well, Bess, you look a lot better. I do believe you’ve gotten thin!”