"It's not my fault, Donnie. I couldn't do anything with her. She bought
me off. What's the matter with you? Are you soft on her? She's safe
enough. It's as easy as rolling off a log, if you keep cool." Molly Welch
was rather excited herself, and she was chewing gum at a high speed as
she stood beside him, looking up at the floating silver cone. "Now
watch," she exclaimed suddenly. "She's coming down on the bar. I advised
her to cut that out, but you see she does it first-rate. And she got rid
of the skirt, too. Those black tights show off her legs very well. She
keeps her feet together like I told her, and makes a good line along the
back. See the light on those silver slippers,--that was a good idea I
had. Come along to meet her. Don't be a grouch; she's done it fine!"

Molly tweaked his elbow, and then left him standing like a stump, while
she ran down the beach with the crowd.

Though Hedger was sulking, his eye could not help seeing the low blue
welter of the sea, the arrested bathers, standing in the surf, their arms
and legs stained red by the dropping sun, all shading their eyes and
gazing upward at the slowly falling silver star.

Molly Welch and the manager caught Eden under the arms and lifted her
aside, a red page dashed up with a bouquet, and the band struck up "Blue
Bell." Eden laughed and bowed, took Molly's arm, and ran up the sand in
her black tights and silver slippers, dodging the friendly old women, and
the gallant sports who wanted to offer their homage on the spot.

When she emerged from the tent, dressed in her own clothes, that part of
the beach was almost deserted. She stepped to her companion's side and
said carelessly: "Hadn't we better try to catch this boat? I hope you're