“Help! Help! I’m dr—”
The cry died in a gurgle and Dorothy sprang to her feet in terror. She had warned Gwendolyn not to take that high seat so close to that slippery rock, from beneath which the cascade began its downward flow.
“If you fall, it will be straight into the pool. Do be careful, Gwen, how you move.”
But the warning had been useless—Gwendolyn was already in the pool.
CHAPTER VII
ALL HALLOW EVE FESTIVITIES
“I’m going to choose Queen Bess! I’ve made a lovely ruff, stands away up above my head. And Mrs. Archibald, the matron, has bought me four yards of chintz that might be brocade—if it was!” said Florita Sheraton, from the gymnasium floor, hugging her arms for warmth.
“Four yards! That’ll never go around you, Fatty!” declared Fanny Dimock, with playful frankness.