Jack looked at Marjorie doubtfully, as if he had no desire to spend a whole hour cooped up with his English teacher when it was not necessary. So he suggested an alternative to his sister.
“How would you like to see our swimming-hole?” he asked.
“Fine!” answered Marjorie. “It’s too nice a day to be inside. Besides, I’m tired of sitting still.”
They took the path back of the school which led down to the creek, and in less than five minutes they reached the dam.
It was on the upper side of the dam that the stream was widest, both banks sweeping out and almost meeting again at the waterfall in a horseshoe curve, which gave it the appearance of a lake. Trees grew to the water’s edge, their branches mirrored with a gentle shimmering reflection in the quiet water along the shore. Farther out, toward the middle, the current was swift; it seemed to gather force as it rushed foaming over the dam to the rocks below. Marjorie went into ecstacies, impressed by the beauty of the spot.
“I wish I could paint it,” she said. “Wouldn’t it be lovely?”
“I tell you what I will do,” said her brother, after he had thought for a minute or two; “I’ll take a picture of it!”
“What with?”
“My camera’s up in my room, and I’ve got two exposures left on the film. If you’ll wait here, I’ll run back and get it.”
As soon as he was gone, Marjorie sat down on a stone, and gazed idly into the water. She watched the water-bugs gliding over the smooth surface, and wondered how deep it was at this spot, and whether it was still cold. Jack had told her that the boys had already gone swimming here; but then, boys would try anything!