“Oh, my, look at the style!” Lottie exclaimed as a party of young folks appeared before them. They were evidently coming from the Cliff Hotel, and made the most of that fact.
“There’s Hilda Hastings!” Cora said, in surprise. “I didn’t know she was down here.”
A remarkably pretty girl, light-haired and wearing lilac shades, with a parasol that reflected that becoming tint, was Hilda. She evidently saw, and recognized Cora just as the latter spied her.
“Cora Kimball!” cried Hilda, in the delighted way that usually marks a meeting with a home friend in the midst of vacation time. “Where did you come from?”
“Oh, Hilda!” answered Cora, advancing to meet the girl who almost ran to greet her, “I am so glad to see you. We are stopping at our own little bunk—the Motely Mote—on Pine Shade Way. And where do you put up?”
Introductions followed, and girls from the Mote were plainly delighted to meet the others from a fashionable hotel. The meeting also resulted in a general invitation from the Cliff girls to the Motes to attend a hop to be given the next evening at the hotel.
“And do bring every boy you can scrape up,” Hilda enjoined. “We shall be sure to need them.”
“What dress?” asked Lottie the Vain.
“Linen or lace, doesn’t matter in the least,” declared a young girl whom they called Madge. “We will wear whatever we fall into for dinner.”
“All right,” answered Lottie for all, fluttering at the prospect of a real hotel hop. “We will wear whatever we may find pressable—we have the awfullest time with wrinkles down here.”