"Yes. So, whenever you think of God, remember that 'I don't know' must never come into your thought. You do know, and you can know better every day."
"Uncle Nick won't like it if I know anything."
"Dear child!" burst from Mrs. Lowell at this unconscious revelation of blight. "We will have a secret from Uncle Nick. I am so glad you have told me about your dear mother, and now you are going to start doing everything in the way you think would make her happy if she were here. I am sure she loved everything beautiful. She loved flowers and birds and this splendid ocean that is going to catch us in a minute if we don't move back. What do you say to letting it catch us! Supposing we take off our shoes and stockings and wade. Doesn't that foam look tempting?"
Color rose in the speaker's cheeks as she finished, and the vitality in her voice was infectious.
"It's—it'll be cold," said the boy.
"Let it. Come on, it will be fun."
She was already taking off her shoes and he followed suit. It gave her a pang to see the holes in his faded socks, but she caught up her skirts and he pulled up his trousers and shrinkingly followed her. The June water was still reminiscent of ice, and she squealed as the foam curled around her ankles, and Bertie hopped up and down until color came into his face, too. The incoming tide, noisier and noisier, drove them farther and farther up the beach, until finally they sat down together on a rock at a safe distance from the water, and the sunlight fell hotly on their glistening feet.
"That was fun!" said Mrs. Lowell, laughing and breathing fast. "Do you know how to swim, Bertie?"
"I—no, I don't."
"That would be a nice thing to learn while you are here. You learn and then teach me."