"An accident? I am so glad you are not hurt! Hilliard should have warned
you about those slippery rocks--oh, he did--I see. Dillon will help you
change your things; ring for her, Hilliard. Too bad, Betty, to spoil
that pretty frock."
Well, I changed my wet clothes, and for the rest of that day I was as
meek as a lamb. I sat down, and got up, and answered, and talked to the
Ervengs as nearly in Nora's manner as I could imitate. Perhaps they
liked it, but I didn't; I was having the pokiest kind of a time, and I
was so homesick that I cried myself to sleep again that night.
Mind you, I wouldn't have our boys and Nora know this for a kingdom!
The next few days were more agreeable; the people from the other
cottages on the beach came to call on Mrs. Erveng, and while she was
entertaining them, Hilliard and I went for walks or sat on the sands. As
I've told you before, he isn't at all a wonderful sort of boy,--except
for queerness,--and he always _will_ be a poke; but sometimes he's
rather nice, and he is certainly polite. He knows the beach well,--he
ought to, he's been here nearly every summer of his life, and he is
eighteen years old,--and he showed me everything there was to see.
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