a shallow pool, scrambled quickly out and stood on the
rock. Then she looked down at herself with dismay; for, though there
was not enough water to drown her, it had wetted her from top to toe,
and she was a forlorn object indeed--her clothes hung to her dripping,
her straw-hat floated in the pool, and she had cut her chin in falling
against a sharp stone. The only thing to be done now was to get back to
Sophia Jane as fast as possible, and she also remembered for the first
time that Buskin must be waiting; so, shivering a good deal and feeling
very wretched, she fished out her hat, picked up Grace who was the only
dry piece of property she now possessed, and prepared to return. But
lo! when she looked round, the whole place seemed to have changed!
There was no Sophia Jane to be seen, no pier, nothing but high white
cliffs, and rocks, and sea. Sophia Jane must be hiding, and Susan felt
too miserable now to stand on her dignity, so she called her as loud as
she could, several times.

No answer. No one to be seen. And where was the pier? How could that
have gone away? Confused, and still giddy with her tumble, Susan hardly
knew what she was doing, but her one idea was that she must find the
pier, and if it was not in this direction it must be in the other. So
she turned again, and went on _the wrong way_. Now, it was only hidden
from her by the projecting cliffs which formed the little bay into which
she had wandered, and at that very minute Buskin and Sophia Jane were
not really far away. But they could not see or hear her, and now she
was going further from them as quickly as she could.

Not very quickly, because it was so difficult to get on, with her wet
clothes clinging so heavily; even her boots were full of water and made
queer gurgling noises at every step, and her hair hung limp and draggled
over her shoulders. Susan had never been so uncomfortable. The cut on
her chin hurt a good deal too, for the salt water got into it and made
it smart; when she drew her handkerchief out of her pocket, it was only
a little damp rag, and no use at all; everything was salt watery except
Grace, who was dry and clean, and had only suffered a dinge on her nose
by her fall. Susan envied her neat appearance; she was a dignified
little girl, and could not bear to look odd or ridiculous, so at first
she hoped she should meet no one before she got to Buskin and Sophia
Jane. The latter would certainly laugh at her; but, af