She was tired of being a girl; tired of being without a father. “I’ll be a boy,” she whispered, “and wear knickerbockers and have a father, like Teddy.” She really thought that, in some occult way, her outrageous conduct would accomplish that. It was all a matter of dress. She chuckled at imagining her mother’s amazement. The still sheet of water was a Pool of Siloam that would heal a little girl of her sex.
“When she’s once got in,” whispered Ruddy, “it won’t be so bad. We can——”
Teddy grabbed his shoulder fiercely. “You shan’t see her. We’ll stay just as far away as——”
A scream startled the air. They swung about. Knee-deep in the pool, at bay and pale as a wood-nymph, was Desire.
“I won’t come out,” she was shouting, “and I’m not a naughty girl.”
Leaning out from the bank, trying to hook her with an umbrella, was a balloon-shaped old lady.
Behind her, peering above the bushes, was the face of Farmer Joseph, his merry eyes screwed up with amusement.
“But you’ll catch cold, darling,” Mrs. Sheerug coaxed. “Oh, dear, oh, dear! What shall I do? Please do come out.”
“I shan’t catch cold either. And if I do come out you’ll only be cross with me.”
“I won’t be cross with you, darling. I’m too glad to find you for that.”