d taken a dip that morning; but when the girls
went to their bedrooms at night each girl found pinned to her nightdress
a slip of paper--evidently a carbon copy of a typewritten message. It
read:

"THE GOBLINS' GAMBOL--You are instructed to put on your
bathing suit, take a wrap, and meet for a Goblins' Gambol on
the beach at ten sharp. The tide will be just right, and there
is a small moon. Do not fail."

The girls giggled a good deal over this. They all declared they had not
written the message, or caused it to be written. There was a typewriter
downstairs, Heavy admitted; but she had never used it. Anyhow, the
suggestion was too tempting to refuse.

At ten the girls, shrouded in their cloaks and water proofs, crept down
stairs and out of the house. The door was locked, and they could not
imagine who had originated this lark. The boys did not seem to be astir
at all.

"If Aunt Kate hears of this I expect she'll say something," chuckled
Heavy. "But we've been pretty good so far. Oh, it is just warm and
nice. I bet the water will be fine."

They trooped down to the beach, Mercy limping along with the rest. Ruth
and Helen gave her aid when she reached the sand, for her crutches
hampered her there.

"Come on! the water's fine!" cried Madge, running straight into the
smooth sea.

They were soon sporting in it, and having a great time, but keeping near
the shore because the boys were not there, when suddenly Helen began to
squeal--and then Madge. Those two likewise instantly disappeared beneath
the water, their cries ending in articulate gurgles.

"Oh! Oh!" cried Heavy. "There's somebody here! Something's got me!"

She was in shallow water, and she promptly sat down. Whatever had grabbed
her vented a mighty grunt, for she pinioned it for half a minute under
her weight. When she could scramble up she had to rescue what she had
fallen on, and it proved to be Isadore--very limp and "done up."

"It's the boys," squealed Helen, coming to the surface. "Tom swam
under water and caught me."

"And this is that horrid Bob!" cried Madge. "What have you got there,
Heavy?"

"I really don't know," giggled the stout girl. "What do you think
it looks like?"

"My--goodness--me!" panted Busy Izzy. "I thought--it--it was Ruth!
Why--why don't you look where you're sitting, Jennie Stone?"

But the laugh was on Isadore and he could not turn the tables. The boys
had been out to the diving float watching the girls