"You can learn, Sylvia," she said. "Benny Merritt taught me to swim in that very spot, for I was determined to learn. I pulled out some of the poor boy's hair, I remember; so be careful and don't grab Mr. Dunham by the head."
Edna ran down a few steps, and throwing her cloak on a rock clasped her hands above her, launched herself through the air in a graceful arch, and disappeared in the liquid emerald.
Sylvia lifted despairing eyes to Dunham. "She just does that to make me crazy," she said.
"We'll fool her, then," returned John. "We won't go crazy. Now lift up your arms."
"You aren't going to put that thing on me!" exclaimed Sylvia, eyeing with scorn the life-preserver he had picked up. "I thought that was something to sit on." She pinioned her elbows to her side. "Oh, I'd much rather drown than wear anything so unbecoming."
"Sylvia Lacey, lift up your arms this minute," commanded Miss Martha. "I wore one for weeks. As it was, I pinched Benny a number of times when I thought I was going down. Poor child, I distinctly remember a black and blue spot on his cheek where I kicked him one day."
"Miss Sylvia, I'm growing awfully frightened," said John, while he buckled. "Do you inherit your aunt's warlike propensities? You don't need to pull out my hair. I'll give you a lock of it in exchange for one of your curls." He had been observing the auburn rings that escaped under the front of the little oilskin cap.
"So ignominious," said Sylvia, looking over her person with disfavor.
"After you get into the water I'll take it off the minute you say," returned Dunham. "Let's make a bet, Miss Lacey. How long do you think she will keep it on?"
"Mr. Dunham, this is Sunday," returned Miss Martha.