"No, thanks, we've had enough!" exclaimed Piers. "You'd better drop poetry, and stick to steering; you've nearly bumped us into the bank more than once."
"Can't I have a turn at rowing now?" asked Mabel. "You promised I should."
"All serene!" said Piers. "You may take my oar. Steady! Don't go upsetting us!"
"Then let me have yours, Godfrey," said Aldred. "I do so want to try too!"
"It's the spliced one," said Godfrey, "but I don't suppose you're likely to smash it."
It was the first time Aldred had ever tried to row, and it was much harder work than she had supposed.
"Look here! you're not feathering your oar properly," commented Piers. "You oughtn't to put it in so deep, nor bring it out with a jerk. Watch how Mabel is doing it."
"Oh, I know!" replied Aldred rather impatiently. She did not like to receive any criticisms, and, setting her feet firmly, gave a mighty pull. The next instant over she went on her back, and away went the oar into the water. Luckily, Piers had plenty of presence of mind. He put out his hand and caught the oar just as it was floating past the stern.
"We very nearly lost it!" he remarked. "It was luckily near enough to reach."
Aldred retired into the stern again, feeling decidedly crestfallen, all the more so as Mabel was getting on nicely. Her friend's efforts did not last long, however; she soon declared that her hands would be blistered, and relinquished her seat to Piers, who was longing to be in command again.