CHAPTER VIII
THE PLUNGE
"Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave."—MILTON.
Yes! Not even yet was there to be rest after the exertions of the first day's land-work.
As Elizabeth and I hobbled into the hut ten minutes after the others, Vic's voice hailed us above the laughing clatter:
"Here, Celery-face and Mop! Off with your spotless—I don't think—uniforms, and come on for a nice swim!"
"Swim?" we echoed, glancing aghast about the hut.
The gang of timber girls, with Miss Easton, had returned from their woods, and they and the farm girls were in various stages of getting out of land-kit and into swimming costumes.
After hard work, here they were all ready again for hard play, for exercise, for plunging into cold water.
I began to say something wistful about embrocation.