"Into the ocean, I think," said Lulu, shivering. "It has to go round Sandy Hook first, though," she added more hopefully, "and somebody will be sure to see us before we get there."
"Are you very frightened, Jack, dear?" Betty whispered, nestling close to her little brother.
"N—no, not so very," returned Jack tremulously; "only—only, if anything does happen think how unhappy mother will be, and—and, I did hope I should be able to walk just like other people."
This was too much for Betty, and she promptly burst into tears.
"Oh, we must do something, we must," cried Lulu, almost beside herself with anxiety. "It's all my fault, I know, but I really did think it was safe. I didn't mean to be naughty, I truly didn't, Winifred."
"I know you didn't," sobbed Winifred, hugging her friend in a burst of remorse. "I didn't mean what I said, not a single word of it, only I was so dreadfully frightened."
"Perhaps if we keep on shouting all the time, and waving our handkerchiefs, some one will notice us," Betty suggested.
This seemed a good idea, and was promptly acted upon, but though they shouted till their throats were sore, and waved till their arms ached, no friendly face appeared, and faster and faster drifted the little boat away from home and friends.
"I wonder what time it is," said Winifred, when they had at last left off shouting, in order to gain a little breath. "It seems as if we had been out on the river for hours and hours."
"We can't have been as long as that," said Betty, "because the sun is just as bright as it was when we started. I guess the time seems longer than it really is."