away as fearlessly as real mermaidens. Jill had her quiet dip and
good rubbing each fine day, and then lay upon the warm sand
watching the pranks of the others, and longing to run and dive and
shout and tumble with the rest. Now that she was among the well
and active, it seemed harder to be patient than when shut up and
unable to stir. She felt so much better, and had so little pain to
remind her of past troubles, it was almost impossible to help
forgetting the poor back and letting her recovered spirits run away
with her. If Mrs. Minot had not kept good watch, she would have
been off more than once, so eager was she to be “like other girls”
again, so difficult was it to keep the restless feet quietly folded
among the red cushions.
One day she did yield to temptation, and took a little voyage which
might have been her last, owing to the carelessness of those whom
she trusted. It was a good lesson, and made her as meek as a lamb
during the rest of her stay. Mrs. Minot drove to Gloucester one
afternoon, leaving Jill safely established after her nap in the boat,
with Gerty and Mamie making lace beside her.
“Don’t try to walk or run about, my dear. Sit on the piazza if you
get tired of this, and amuse yourself quietly till I come back. I’ll
not forget the worsted and the canvas,” said Mamma, peeping over
the bank for a last word as she waited for the omnibus to come
along.
“Oh, don’t forget the Gibraltars!” cried Jill, popping her head out of
the green roof.
“Nor the bananas, please!” added Gerty, looking round one end.
“Nor the pink and blue ribbon to tie our shell-baskets,” called
Mamie, nearly tumbling into the aquarium at the other end.
Mrs. Minot laughed, and promised, and rumbled away, leaving Jill
to an experience which she never forgot.
For half an hour the little girls worked busily, then the boys came
for Gerty and Mamie to go to the Chasm with a party of friends
who were to leave next day. Off they went, and Jill felt very lonely
as the gay voices died away. Everyone had gone somewhere, and
only little Harry Hammond and his maid were on the beach. Two
or three sand-pipers ran about among the pebbles, and Jill envied
them their nimble legs so much, that she could not resist getting up
to take a few steps. She longed to run straight away over the firm,
smooth sand, and feel again the delight of swift motion; but she
dared not try it, and stood leaning on her tall parasol with her
book in her hand, when Frank, Jack, and the bicycle boy came
rowing lazily along and hailed her.
“Come for a sail, Jill? Take you anywhere you like,” called Jack,
touched by the lonely figure on the beach.
“I’d love to go, if you will row. Mamma made me promise not to
go sailing without a man to take care of me. Would it spoil your
fun to have me?” answered Jill, eagerly.
“Not a bit; come out on the big stones and we’ll take you aboard,”
said Frank, as they steered to the place where she could embark the
easiest.
“All the rest are gone to the Chasm. I wanted to go, because I’ve
never seen it; but, of course, I had to give it up, as I do most of the
fun”; and Jill sat down with an impatient sigh.
“We’ll row you round there. Can’t land, but you can see the place
and shout to the others, if that will be any comfort to you,”
proposed Frank, as they pulled away round the pier.
“Oh, yes, that would be lovely!” and Jill smiled at Jack, who was
steering, for she found it impossible to be dismal now with the
fresh wind blowing in her face, the blue waves slapping against the
boat, and three good-natured lads ready to gratify her wishes.
Away they went, laughing and talking gayly till they came to
Goodwin’s Rocks, where an unusual number of people were to be