"I can understand why the Romans were so enthusiastic about their public baths," said Audrey Redfern. "Just think of having little trays of eatables floating about on the water, so that you could have a snack whenever you wanted, and slaves to bring you delicious scent afterwards, and garlands of flowers. I wish I'd lived some time b.c. instead of in the twentieth century!"
"Be thankful you didn't live in the twelfth, for then you mightn't have had a bath at all!" returned Winona; "certainly not a public one, and probably not the private one either. An occasional canful of water would have been thought quite sufficient for you, with perhaps a dip in a stream if you could get it. The people who bathed were mostly pilgrims at Holy Wells, and they all used the same water, no matter what their diseases were."
"How disgusting! Well, on the whole I'm tolerably satisfied to belong to the poor old twentieth century. It might be better, but it might be worse."
"How kind of you! I'm sure posterity will be grateful for your approval."
"D'you want me to push you into the water, Winona Woodward? I will, in half a second!"
At the end of the course it was arranged that a swimming contest should take place among the girls, and that various prizes should be offered for championships. It was the first event of the kind in the annals of the school, so naturally it aroused much enthusiasm. About thirty candidates were selected by Miss Medland as eligible for competitions, the rest of her pupils having to content themselves with looking on. A special afternoon was given up to the display, and invitations were sent out to parents to come and help to swell the audience.
"Are you in for the mermaidens' fête?" Winona asked Marjorie Kemp.
"Mermaidens' fête, indeed! How romantic we are all of a sudden! The frog fight, I should call it."
"There speaks the voice of envy! You're evidently out of it."
"Don't want to be in it, thanks! It'll be wretched work shivering round the edge of the bath for a solid hour!"