Harry exerted his full strength and skill to overtake Maude, but she, flushed with the excitement, her thin costume clinging close to her form, reached the bank some twenty feet ahead of him.
“I had to do it,” she cried, “and I suppose I must deliver the prize by kissing myself.”
Then her exuberant nature gave way, and she sank helpless to the ground. Harry did not envy the Captain who was carrying Florence in his arms, for was not Maude in his?
In the evening as they sat upon the veranda watching the dying glories of the sun, Quincy said to Maude, “Why didn't you let Harry bring you ashore?”
“The idea of it,” she exclaimed. “And be under obligations to him—not on your life. Think of poor Florence. If that Captain asks her to marry him she must accept because he saved her life.”
Later, when the sun had set, and the moonbeams silvered the surface of the pond, Harry mustered up courage to ask Maude what she meant when she said it was too great a responsibility to go out canoeing with a man who couldn't swim.
“Why, I meant if you couldn't swim it might be a great job for me to get you ashore. I knew I could take care of myself all right.”
At the other end of the veranda the Hon. Nathaniel and Captain Hornaby were engaged in conversation. The Captain was not asking the Hon. Nathaniel for the hand of his daughter Florence but, instead, for a loan, giving as his reason that when he threw off his coat his letters of credit to the value of five hundred pounds went to the bottom of the pond.
“I shall have to write home to my brother, the Earl, for other letters, and it will take some time for them to reach me.”
{Illustration: “'IF YOU WILL GIVE ME YOUR NOTE AT THIRTY DAYS I WILL LET YOU HAVE THE FIVE HUNDRED.'”}