"Oh, I can't!" Polly said.

"Well, you sing, and play, and you dance beautifully; after all that, just skipping stones doesn't seem so very much," Sprite answered quickly.

"It does to me because I've never done it before. It's great fun."

The sun was higher, and warm from exercise, they sat down in the shadow of the cliff to rest, and cool off.

They talked of the ships that appeared on the horizon, wondering what their cargoes might be. They talked of all sorts of things, but it was Sprite who gave a surprise.

"Guess who has gone way, way over in that big yellow house on the cliff to live. Guess!" she said, and her eyes were twinkling.

"Oh, tell us," said Polly.

"Yes, you'd better tell us," said Rose. "We couldn't ever guess."

"Won't you guess?" Sprite asked.

"What's the use," said Polly. "We couldn't guess who it is in a month!"

"Well, it's Gwen Harcourt," Sprite said.

"Gwen Harcourt!" cried Polly and Rose in the same breath. "Why, how funny. Her mamma said she was tired of Cliffmore."

"Yes, and she said she didn't like any of the people that were here for the Summer," said Rose.

"Gwen said her mamma said that, but she said the reason was because she was provoked, and Gwen said she teased and teased her to stay, so she did, and they truly are in that big yellow house on the cliff.

There's only about a dozen people boarding there, and Gwen said it seemed more select than the place where she'd been staying."

"I said: 'You like Polly Sherwood and Rose Atherton,' and she said, 'Yes, I like them, but it's the grown people that we don't care for,'"

concluded Sprite.

"It was the grown people that didn't like Gwen, and no wonder," said Rose. "Who would like to have her trunks and boxes emptied on the floor, and all the hats and dresses pulled over? I don't believe anyone in that yellow house, or any other house will like to have her do that."

A cool breeze blew in from the ocean, and the three sprang to their feet.

"Let's pull off our shoes and stockings and dance on the thin edge of the water," cried Sprite.

"I'll sing a song mamma taught me."

They clasped hands, and gracefully they skipped in time with the pretty song.

"We are water nymphs so free, We are merry sisters three.

When the sunbeams kiss the foam From our coral cave we roam, And we float up to the strand Where we dance upon the sand.

"When the moon with silvery ray Glistens on the tossing spray, Then upon the beach we dance, Fleet of foot we whirl and prance.

Whirling, swaying, gay and free, Merry water nymphs are we."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Their graceful forms swaying."]

It was a pretty sight.

The three lovely faces, bright eyed, and rose tinted cheeks, their graceful forms swaying, swinging, whirling, their white feet nimbly keeping time to the song that Sprite sang.

The guests at the big yellow house on the ledge had already found that Mrs. Harcourt was a pleasant woman to talk with, but they also had learned that she permitted her small daughter to be as rude and unpleasant as she chose. It never required a great length of time for anyone to learn that.

At the breakfast table, the first morning after they had left the hotel and had engaged rooms at the big house on the ledge, Gwen showed her rudeness by declaring that she could not eat any of the food that was served.

Mrs. Harcourt looked around at the other guests, remarking:

"Gwen has such refined taste that quite often really good food fails to tempt her."

Thus encouraged, Gwen spoke for herself:

"But there's nothing on this table that is good. I wonder any of you can eat it."

The guests were disgusted with the silly child, and sillier mother.

She had acted in about the same manner at every meal.

It happened that she had been up in her room over the piazza on the morning that her three little friends were dancing upon the beach.

They were too far distant for her to guess who they might be.

The field gla.s.ses lay on the dresser, and Gwen s.n.a.t.c.hed them, ran to the window, and peeped at the dancing figures.

"Oo--oo! It's Princess Polly, and Rose and Sprite. I'm going right over to see them, and dance with them, too!"

She flung the gla.s.ses down into the nearest chair, and ran down the stairs, across the lawn, and then commenced to make her way carefully down the rough steps that had been cut in the ledge.

Even Gwen could not descend those steps at high speed.

Once on the sand she believed she could hasten, but the tide never reached the ledge upon which the house stood, so the sand at its base was dry, and anything but easy to hurry over.

At last she reached the damp part, and then how her feet flew over the firm, level surface.

She seemed tireless as she sped along, and she ran without stopping until she stood before them. They had not seen her approaching, because a high cliff had hidden her until she sprang out from behind it.

"h.e.l.lo!" she cried.

"h.e.l.lo!" they replied. "Going to dance with us?"

"Of course," Gwen said shortly. "That's why I came here."

She was a fine little dancer, and soon the four were tripping lightly over the sand, the three bare footed, but Gwen with shoes and stockings on, splashing as gaily through the shallow water as if she did not know that she was ruining a fine pair of new shoes.

Her pale blue stockings would hardly be improved by a drenching in salt-water.

The others had urged her to take them off, but for that very reason, she stubbornly refused, and laughed as the water rushed about her ankles at the first step.

She knew that no reproof awaited her. Mrs. Harcourt hailed each new prank as a sure sign of her small daughter's originality.