Sim and Arden, donning bathrobes and slipping their feet into soft mules, pattered downstairs after Terry.
They ate and put on their bathing suits when they went upstairs again, a habit they had fallen into since the lovely weather had begun.
When they went out a little later, Sim wished she hadn’t been so insistent about swimming. The breakers were piling in, slapping down on the beach and churning up a white sudsy foam.
“I’m not going in that sea,” Arden decided, “and I don’t think you should either, Sim.”
“Nonsense, Arden,” Sim said scornfully. “It looks a lot worse than it is.”
“We’ll have rain before night,” Terry stated positively, “and the ocean is getting rougher all the time. Go on in, Sim, if you’re going to, but be careful.”
In a moment of bravado, Sim flung off her sweater and ran down to the water. She hesitated for a second as the cold water whirled around her feet, then, running swiftly, she plunged in head first. She was lost to sight immediately, but presently came up again and waved a hand to Arden and Terry, who were watching. Then she turned and began to swim out into the sea.
“I wish she wouldn’t go out,” Arden worried.
“Oh, she’ll be all right. Sim’s a good swimmer,” Terry reassured her.
As they watched they could see Sim’s scarlet bathing cap bobbing in the rough sea. She swam easily for a while and then floated on her back. Did they imagine it, or was she having trouble? Arden and Terry strained their eyes to see. Sim was swimming hard toward the shore but seemed to be making no headway.