"Dad said you were to leave your oughts behind to-day, and we're to do as we like. I believe you're funking it!"
Christina's cheeks grew scarlet.
"I've never been in a boat," she confessed hurriedly; "but it isn't only that, Dawn, I feel we oughtn't to do it. Shall I go and ask your dad?"
"No, he said we weren't to come near him till he whistled for us. Don't be a coward, Tina. I shall write and tell Puggy if you are. Give me your hand, I'll help you in."
Dawn's will always had sway over Christina. She stepped into the boat without another word, and sat where she was told, with heaving breath and terror-stricken eyes.
"Oh!" she gasped as Dawn pushed off. "There's nothing but water underneath us!"
Dawn, handling his oars with some difficulty, stopped to laugh.
"There are fishes," he said. "Do play up, Tina, and don't spoil it all by staring at me so!"
Christina hastily shut her eyes. The time on the strange horse's back seemed comfortable and safe compared with this. The boat she thought was too thin, too frail to keep her from the angry water. A hole might come in it, then they would sink at once; it would most likely upset; what would it feel like to be plunged into the cold rushing water? Oh, if only what was going to happen, would happen quickly! It was the waiting for it that was so dreadful.
The little girl thought of her brave ancestors; she repeated the family motto, but it was all in vain. Then she said her text.