"Have you heard about Ella Mooney?" some one in the crowd behind him was saying. "She——"
The rest was lost in the bellow of the announcer's megaphone. The floaters' race was to be run off.
"Wouldn't it be lovely if I should win, too?" said Jess, and they all agreed that it would.
Mrs. Marley thought that a floaters' race sounded "so peaceful," but the actual race was not exactly to be described in those words. True they started peacefully enough, half a dozen children floating gently on their backs, arms spread out as though the rolling swells were comfortable pillows. But alas, none was an experienced floater, and most of them were used to depending on some kind of water wings. One little girl sank from sight almost as soon as she started and was pulled out, choking and sputtering. Jess managed to keep floating for perhaps three minutes longer, and then, much to her surprise, her head went down and her feet went up, as feet sometimes will when one is floating, and the next thing she knew, she came up, far behind the others and feeling as though she had swallowed most of the ocean.
"Never mind, you floated lots longer than you ever did before," Margy told her in an attempt to be consoling.
Polly was aware that there was a great deal of whispering going on among the people on the bank, and an undercurrent of excitement that was vaguely disquieting. But the last race was now to be decided and Artie was so confident that he would win that he really infected the others with his optimism.
"That will make seven dollars for the Riddle Club fund," he announced, as he went to take his place. "The five dollars Margy won and the dollar Ward won and then mine."
It was impossible to argue with any one who was so sure of victory, and Polly found herself wondering what Artie would say or do if he did not win. She hated to see him so eager, for his disappointment would be correspondingly great.
"They say her father is almost crazy," a woman in a bright pink dress said clearly.