Max.

She was always either vexed with him or just making up, and no one
could ever guess which had happened, because Gwen looked quite as
cheerful after a disagreement, as when the friendship had been
renewed.

She hurried along the beach, rushing past a group of small girls whom
she often played with, because she meant surely to find Rose before
she might leave "The Cliffs" to go over to Princess Polly's house.

She knew that the walk would be a long one, yet it seemed farther than
she thought.

The sun was hot, and the sand seemed burning under the thin soles of
her dainty shoes.

"How long it takes me to get there!" she said impatiently. "I couldn't
run all the way."

She reached the low gate a few minutes later, however, and opening it,
swung it wide between the two stone posts, and ran up the path,
laughing when the gate swung to with a clang of its iron latch.

Mrs. Wilton, the housekeeper, opened the door, believing that some
important person had arrived, for the bell had rung as if the opening
of the door were imperative.

She was not pleased to see the small girl standing there.

"No, Rose is not here," she said in answer to Gwen's question. "She is
to stay with Polly while her Uncle John is away. She went over there
this morning."

"Why this is 'this morning'," Gwen said, pertly.

"It is ten o'clock, and Rose went over to the Sherwood house at
eight," the housekeeper said, at the same time stepping back, as if
she intended to close the door.

She was free to close it as soon as she chose, for Gwen had turned,
and without a word or a glance, raced down the path, out of the
gateway and up the beach to join Rose and Polly whom she now saw
standing and talking.

"Hello!" she cried, as she drew nearer. "I've been over to 'The
Cliffs' to find you, Rose, and then I came here. What you two talking
about?"

"Trying to choose what to play," Rose said.

Both wished that Gwen had remained away, but they could not be rude,
so she of course would join in the game, whatever it might be. It was
a warm morning, and Princess Polly was just thinking that it would be
fine to choose a shady spot, and sit there telling fairy tales, but
Gwen's arrival made that impossible.

She never cared to listen while someone told a story. To be happy she
must be the story teller, and as her stories were always wildly
improbable, and always about her silly little self, they were never at
all interesting.

For that matt