“You wouldn’t, if you weren’t tho fat.”

“Tommy!” broke in Miss Elting.  The whole party had come to a halt, following Margery’s mishap.

“I beg your pardon, Mith Elting.  I forgot.  Buthter ithn’t dry yet.  What am I doing?  Yeth, I’m bailing out my thhoeth.  Ugh!  How they do thtick to my feet.  Oh, I can’t get them on again!” wailed Tommy.

“What a helpless creature you are,” answered Harriet laughingly.  “Here, let me help you.  There.  You see how easy it is when once you make up your mind that you really can.”

“No, I don’t thee.  It ith too dark.  Help me up!”

“Take hold of my hand.  Here, Margery, you get on the other side.  We three will run together.  Everyone else keep out of our way.”

“Yeth, becauthe Buthter ith—­” Tommy, remembering her promise, checked herself.  The three started up the road at a brisk trot.  Reaching the main road, Harriet led them about, then began running back toward the water.

“Look out for the water,” warned Jane shrilly, after they had been going for a few minutes.  But her warning came too late.  Harriet, Tommy and Margery had turned to the right after reaching the open.  The three fell in with a splash and a chorus of screams.  The water was shallow and there was no difficulty in getting out, but the girls now were as wet as before, and shivering more than ever.  At this juncture the guardian took a hand.  She directed them to walk up and down the road in orderly fashion, which they did, shivering, their teeth chattering and the water dripping from their clothing.  Reaching the main highway the guardian turned out on this, walking her charges a full mile in the direction they had been following before turning off into the byway.

“This part of the country appears to be deserted,” she said.  “I think we had better return.  In the morning we will try to find some one.”

“Thave me!” moaned Tommy.  “Mutht we thtay here in our wet clotheth all night?”

“I fear so.  What else is there for us to do?”

“But let uth get our dry clotheth and put them on,” urged Tommy.  The girls laughed at her.

“Our clothes are down under the water in the car, darlin’,” Jane informed her.

“Of course, they are soaked,” reflected Miss Elting.

“I do not think so.  The chest on the back of the car is water-proof as well as dust-proof,” said Jane.  “If it weren’t water-proof the things in it would get soaked every time there was a driving rainstorm.  No; our other clothing is as dry as toast.  You’ll see that it is when we get it.”

“Yes, when we do,” groaned Margery—­“when we do!”

“It might as well be wet,” observed the guardian.  “We shan’t be able to get it out.  Do you think the car is ruined, Jane?”

“It’s wet, like ourselves, Miss Elting.  I reckon it will take a whole summer to dry it out thoroughly.  I’ve got to get word to Dad to come after it.”