“I should not be surprised to hear that that woman had been murdered by her servants some day!” said Margaret to Elinor Leyton. 

“No! and I should not be sorry! I feel rather like murdering her myself. But let us go down to the sands, Margaret, and try to find the disconsolate Bobby! I’m not afraid of his mother if William is, and if he wants something to eat, I shall give it him!” 

They fetched their hats and parasols, and having left the Hotel by a side entrance, found their way down to the sands. It was a pretty sight there, and in some cases, a comical one. The bathing-machines were placed some sixty or more feet from the water, according to the tide, and their occupants, clad in bathing-costumes, had to run the gauntlet of all the eyes upon the beach, as they traversed that distance in order to reach the sea. To some visitors, especially the English ones, this ordeal was rather trying. To watch them open a crevice of the machine door and regard the expectant crowd with horror; then after some hesitation, goaded on by the cries of the bathing women that the time was passing, to see them emerge with reluctant feet, sadly conscious of their unclothed condition and of the unsightly corns and bunions which disfigured their feet--to say nothing of the red and blue tint which their skin had suddenly assumed--was to find it almost impossible to refrain from laughter. 

The very skinny and knuckle-kneed ones; the very fat and bulging ones; the little fair men who looked like Bobby’s peeled shrimps, and the muscular black and hairy ones who looked like bears escaped from a menagerie,--these types and many others, our ladies could not help being amused at, though they told each other it was very improper all the time. But everybody had to pass through the same ordeal and everybody submitted to it and tried to laugh off their own humiliation by ridiculing the appearance of their neighbours. 

Margaret and Elinor were never tired of watching the antics of the Belgians and Germans whilst they were (what they called) bathing. The fuss they made over entering two feet of water--the way in which they gasped and puffed as they caught it up in their hands and rubbed their backs and chests with it--the reluctance with which the ladies were dragged by their masculine partners into the briny, as if they expected to be overwhelmed and drowned by the tiny waves which rippled over their toes, and made them catch their breath. And lastly, when they were convinced there was no danger, to see them, men and women, fat and thin, take hands and dance round in a ring as if they were playing at 

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