"I believe the niggers are still here!" exclaimed Myfanwy excitedly. "Or perhaps they went away, and have come back again. Don't you see them at that corner by the tea-rooms?" "There's certainly somebody with a banjo," said Phœbe. "I can't see for the crowd. Oh! I caught a glimpse then of a tall white hat and a red-striped jacket." "I wonder whether it's the niggers or the pierrots?" said Dora. "Do let us go and see!" begged Aldred. "It's such a very little way, we shan't be two minutes." She seized Dora by the arm, and began to urge her in the direction of the music. Dora did not need much persuasion, and, as Phœbe and Myfanwy offered no remonstrance, they all marched briskly along the promenade. There was a spice of adventure in that, for they knew that they had no business to be there, and that if they were seen and recognized they might be reported to Miss Drummond, and get a severe punishment for breaking bounds. In any case, there were the prefects to be reckoned with. Blanche and Freda would be returning to the post office, and would be extremely angry to find that they had not waited. "We'll manage to square them somehow," said Phœbe. "I don't think they'll tell Miss Drummond, although they'll probably scold." "Of course, we shan't really stay a moment," maintained Dora. "We'll just rush straight there and back. They surely can't be very cross at that." Yet, when they actually arrived at the rather congested corner where the light-hearted negro minstrels, with carefully blacked faces and striped collars, were making merry, they found it impossible not to stop and listen to the songs and jokes. The leader of the troupe was a humorist, and above the average of such performers; he kept his audience well amused, and it was not until he had sent round the inevitable hat, and bidden a polite adieu to the company, that the girls thought of stirring. Even then, their attention was at once claimed, first by a man with performing birds, and then by a Punch and Judy show. The poor little canaries were really clever, while the tragedy of wicked Mr. Punch is an ever-thrilling drama, and his squeaky voice has a peculiar fascination of its own. Time passed rapidly, and the four runaways began suddenly to realize that not only had they been gone much longer than a few minutes, but that they had wandered almost the whole length of the promenade. "Why, we're nearly at the pier!" exclaimed Dora. "We must turn back at once," said Phœbe. "Let us buy a few chocolates before we go," suggested Aldred. "Isn't there a shop here, or an automatic machine?" "There's a kiosk on the pier-head," replied Dora. "They sell the most delicious American popcorn there, in little boxes tied up with striped ribbons." "Then we'll get some." "It's a fairly long way to the end of the pier." "Well, when we've been away so long already, I can't see that a few extra minutes matter." "'As well be hung for a sheep as a lamb'!" quoted Phœbe.