shall
hide in that cave--"

There was still silence. Looking about him, he discovered from his
sisters' countenances that they were resolved to lend no kind of
assistance, and he then from that deduced the simple fact that his
sisters hated Charlotte and were not going to make it pleasant for her
in any way if they could help it. Oh! it was a miserable picnic! The
worst that he'd ever had.

"It's too hot to play," said Helen loftily. "I'm going to sit down over
there."

"So am I," said Mary.

They moved away, their heads in the air and their legs ridiculously
stiff.

Jeremy gazed at Charlotte in distress. It was very wicked of his sisters
to go off like that, but it was also very silly of Charlotte to stand
there so helplessly. He was beginning to think that perhaps he would
give the thimble to Miss Jones after all.

"Would you like to go and see the pool where the little crabs are?" he
asked.

"I don't know," she answered, her upper lip trembling as though she were
going to cry. "I want to go home with Mother."

"You can't go home," he said firmly, "and you can't see your mother,
because she's asleep."

"I've made my shoes dirty," she said, looking down at her feet, "and I'm
so tired of holding my sunshade."

"I should shut it up," Jeremy said without any hesitation. "I think it's
a silly thing. I'm glad I'm not a girl. Do you have to take it with you
everywhere?"

"Not if it's raining. Then I have an umbrella."

"I think you'd better come and see the crabs," he settled. "They're only
just over there."

She moved along with him reluctantly, looking back continually to where
her mother ought to be.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Jeremy asked politely.

"No," she said, without any hesitation, "I want to go home."

"She's as selfish as anything," he thought to himself. "We're giving the
party, and she ought to have said 'Yes' even if she wasn't."

"Do you like my dog?" he asked, with another effort at light
conversation.

"No," she answered, with a little shiver. "He's ugly."

"He isn't ugly," Jeremy returned indignantly. "He isn't perhaps the
very best breed, but Uncle Samuel says that that doesn't matter if he's
clever. He's better than any other dog. I love him more than anybody. He
isn't ugly!"

"He is," cried Charlotte with a kind of wail. "Oh! I want to go home."

"Well, you can't go home," he answered her fiercely. "So you needn't
think about it."

They came to the little pools, three