“’Tain’t c-c-cold, is it?” you gasped defiantly.
“No; ’tain’t c-c-cold a bit,” chattered Hen.
“I told you ’twasn’t cold,” sniggered Billy.
But you impetuously plashed for shore; so did Hen; so did Billy. With numbed fingers you made all haste to pull your clothes over the goose-flesh of your weazened limbs and your shuddering little body. You began to grow warmer. You tried to control rattling teeth.
“’Twasn’t cold!”
“Of course it wasn’t!”
“We’ll tell all the kids it’s bully.”
“Gee! I feel fine, don’t you?”
“You bet!”
“Let’s come again.”