"Yes," replied the boatman, "and she'd like to go into service with some good family. She can sew well and--"
"Remain with your father; that's the best thing you can do," said Irma to the girl.
They rowed on in silence. "How deep is the lake here?" inquired Irma.
"Sixty fathoms, at least." Irma's hand played with the water, and she was pleased with the thought that human beings could so easily and boldly move along over a threatening, watery grave. She leaned a little way over the side of the boat, and the boatman called out:
"Take care, miss!"
"I can swim," replied Irma, splashing the waves.
"That's all very well," said the old man, laughing. "They can all swim until they have to, and then all's over; and if they happen to have clothes hanging to them, mighty few can swim."
"You're right there. Our gay frippery would drag us down."
The old man did not understand her and made no reply.
She was quite excited and asked: "Have many persons been drowned in this lake?"