“Of course I will! Come right along!” thundered Kirke, who had caught a word here and a word there and had “jumped” at his sister’s meaning. She wanted him to go with her to the Lookout, that tumble-down tower overlooking the sea. He was sure that was what she wished, for she was always turning giddy in high places and clinging to him, afraid to take a step by herself.
So, not to vex her with needless questions, Kirke simply waved his hand to put an end to the talk, and went back to the lofty tower to mount anew the broken steps within; for he wanted to decide how far up it would be safe for Molly and Pauline and Weezy to climb.
Meanwhile the girls below expected at any moment to see him descending the winding path that led from the chalk cliffs to the fishing village. When he failed to appear, Pauline bethought herself of the secret passages she had heard of. Probably he had chosen one of these to shorten the distance. Why, of course he had, and there was no knowing just where he would come out.
“He must be here soon, Molly,” said Pauline impatiently, “and it’s getting hotter and hotter. Why can’t we be going on slowly?”
“Will you keep Donald happy till Kirke gets here, darling?” asked Molly, smiling at her sister. “If you will, I’ll give you a nickel.”
“I’ll give you another, and that’ll be a dime,” added Pauline.
Weezy gladly consented to the bargain. She was filling a scrap-book with paper flags of all nations, and a dime would purchase several of these.
“You can run to overtake us, you know, Weezy, as soon as Kirke comes,” called Molly from the entrance of the path. “Tell him not to let Donald wade too long.”
“I won’t forget,” screamed Weezy, as the two girls passed from her view behind a bend in the hill.
At their last glimpse of Donald, he was standing outside the pool with Weezy, looking at some peasant women who were washing at the margin of the beach. The women were kneeling with their backs to the children, rubbing the clothes white upon the smooth stones.