We must be close to
the cove now. I'll run if you like!"
The bathing-place for which the girls were bound was a sandy creek among
the rocks. A hundred years ago it had been a favourite spot for smugglers
to land contraband goods, and a series of steps cut in the cliff
testified to its former use. Nowadays it was commonly deserted, and in
the early part of the summer, when Mavis and Merle had been wont to visit
it, they had had it all to themselves. They had gone there so often and
found it untenanted that they had come to regard it as their private
property, and, in consequence, they were most unreasonably annoyed, when
climbing down the steps, to hear sounds of laughter rising up from below.
"Who's in _our_ cove?" demanded Merle sharply, somewhat as Father
Bruin asked the immortal question, "Who's sleeping on _my_ bed?"
"All the world, I should say!" replied the aggrieved voice of Mavis, who
was in front and had first view of the scene beneath. "The place is an
absolute 'seaside resort.
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