“Lucky I saw you just when I did,” said Dr. Eaton, soberly. “I’m awfully sorry you had such a fright, Miss Wales.”
“Oh, it was nothing,” said Betty, easily, wading slowly in toward the shore, “only it is unpleasant to—— Oh, Ethel, don’t look like that. Please, please don’t! I’m not hurt one bit.”
Miss Hale was as white as the sand that gleamed under her feet. “Oh, Betty, Betty Wales,” she cried, “you frightened us all so!” Her voice broke into a little sob. “You were under my charge, too. I should have had to tell your mother that I’d let you—let you drown.” She turned to Dr. Eaton. “I can’t thank you enough, John.” She held out her hand and Dr. Eaton shook it gravely. Then Ethel turned without a word, and ran up the steps to the bath-house, and after a moment Dr. Eaton followed.
Betty turned with an hysterical little laugh to the girls who were hovering anxiously about her. “Well, Mary Brooks, I hope you’re satisfied,” she began. “I hope you realize that I’ve given your hero a chance.”
Mary stared in astonishment, and then, suddenly comprehending, as she thought, she smiled her most beamish smile. “You little fraud,” she said. “You mean you did it on purpose? How did you ever manage it?”
“Did it on purpose!” repeated Betty indignantly. “If you’d ever been nearly drowned, I guess you wouldn’t care to do it again on purpose, Mary Brooks.”
“It was beautifully apropos, wasn’t it?” laughed Madeline. “Did you remember anything about our talk this morning, while you were waiting for the hero to sprint down the beach?”
“No,” said Betty, “I didn’t. I was too busy trying to scramble up to think of anything.”
“Didn’t you think of all your past life?” inquired Babe, solemnly.
“No,” said Betty.