Walter laughed, the excited laugh of a boy pleased with an earned compliment. It was his second laugh in Richard’s remembrance, the first genuinely hearty one.
Jerry clambered into the boat. Richard followed. Walter eased the mainsail and went on his course towards the dock.
“Bully good work!” Richard went on. “You’ve certainly got the number of this skiff, all right!”
The two swimmers had gone forward, where they lounged and rested in the full warmth of the sun. Walter sat by the tiller, one hand controlling the mainsheet, ridiculously proud.
“Thirsty?” Richard called back.
“Sure. And hungry, too. Puts an edge on you, this does!”
Hungry! That was a fine sign.
“Well,” Geraldine was forced to bring up the topic, “I beat you.”
“Oh,” he affected great surprise, “were you racing?”
“Good sport, you are,” she smiled ironically. “Own up; you tried to overtake me, and I wouldn’t let you. I saw you lengthen out and then let up. I’ve been waiting for this ever since you boasted that you could swim. I had lots more left, and in a spurt I can ‘crawl’ like an express train.”