“Oh,” protested Jeannette, yawning, with a great stretch of limbs, “must we?”
“Oh, yes, Janny,” Alice urged, coming up, “we always go swimming; that’s the best part of the fun.”
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit,” objected Jeannette, sleepily.
“I’ve got an old one of mine for you and Roy borrowed a suit at the boarding-house for Martin.”
They dragged her to her feet and as she looked at the emerald waves curling toward her, they suddenly seemed inviting.
In a few moments they were into their bathing suits and ran down to the water together,—the four of them,—holding hands, laughing and shouting. The rushing tide swirled about their knees and leaped up against their thighs.
“Come on!” urged the men, dragging their wives into the frightening turmoil.
A wave engulfed them, quickening their breath, sending their hearts knocking against their throats with its cold sharpness.
“Oh-h-h!” screamed Jeannette, “isn’t it glorious?”
Martin caught her, lifted her high, as a comber crashed down upon them, burying him in white foam. The water fled past.