"You don't think I am getting vain, do you, Judy?" inquired Anne, anxiously, "but I do love pretty things."
"I think you are a goosie," said Judy with a little laugh, then she caught hold of Anne with impatient hands. "Come on in, little red bird," she urged, "it's lovely in the water."
Anne squealed and struggled, and finally waded in until the water came up to her knees.
"Don't take me any farther, Judy," she begged, and when Judy saw her frightened face, she let her go.
"Sit on the sand, then, and watch me, Annekins," she advised. "You will get used to this after a while and enjoy it as much as I do."
She was off with a run and a leap, and for fifteen minutes or more she was over and under and up and down on the waves like a snowy mermaid.
"And now for breakfast," said the young lady in white, as she dashed up the sands, with raincoat flying and towel fluttering in the breeze.
Ten minutes later two red-cheeked, wet-haired damsels rushed into the dining-room and kissed the Judge, who sat at the head of the table with his newspaper propped up in front of him.
"Bless my soul," he said, gazing at them over his spectacles, "are you really up?"
"We have been up for an hour," gurgled Anne, happily, "and in bathing."