It was the narrowest escape! and they all knew it. The "foolish chickens" hid their heads, and made mental resolves that they would never, never venture out of sight of land again without some older person to take care of them.
"Don't you tell my father, now," said Johnny to Dotty, as they went home, dripping like a pair of sea-bathers.
"Nor don't you tell mine, nor Susy, nor Prudy, neither."
"We shall have to make up some kind of a story," added Johnny, reflectively. "I don't know but we reached over too far after sea-shells, didn't we, and fell into the bay? You did (say), and I got in after you, and pulled you out by your hair."
"Why, Johnny!"
"Well, then, you didn't; I fell in, and you pulled me out—by the boots; only my boots would have come off, though, they're so big!"
"O, Johnny Eastman!"
Dotty had stopped short in the road, and was looking at her cousin with an expression of mingled pity and scorn.
"Then make up something better to suit yourself."
"I don't make up stories, I just hope I don't," returned Dotty, squeezing the skirt of her dress indignantly.