"Stay in," commanded Miss Lacey sepulchrally. "He may pass by," and she sank on a rock, spread out her Congregational paper, and examined the columns from end to end with absorption.
But Benny had no idea of passing by. He had heard the voices from the water and lounged toward Miss Lacey, but that lady declined to look up.
"Miss Sylvy's learnin' to swim, ain't she?" he remarked, when he had stood unnoticed through a space of silence.
"Oh, good-afternoon, Benny," said Miss Martha severely. "Yes; a friend from home came unexpectedly, and offered to help her, and she and Miss Derwent—and—— Was there a good congregation this afternoon, Benny? I thought best to remain here with my young people."
"Guess so. I heard 'em hollerin' as I come by a little while ago."
"Oh, Benny, you should have been there." Miss Lacey spoke more in sorrow than in anger; she was conscious that the object lesson he was now receiving would undo many of her faithful exhortations.
He directed an elaborate wink at the crown of her abased shade hat.
"Thought I'd ruther go swimmin'," he returned.
Miss Martha turned the leaves of her paper with a loud rustle. The bathers were chattering and pulling themselves out of the water by the steps.
Benny's eyes brightened as Edna's laugh sounded on his ear.