“What made you? Tell me!” Olga’s tone was peremptory.
“You,” said Elizabeth.
“I? But I didn’t—I couldn’t. I’d done my best, but I couldn’t drag you into water above your knees—you know I couldn’t. Somebody else did it,” Olga declared, a spark flickering in her eyes.
“Miss Laura talked to me that day you were off so long in the boat,” Elizabeth admitted. “She told me I could get over being afraid. I didn’t think I could before—truly, Olga. I honestly thought I’d die if ever the water came up to my neck. I don’t know how she did it—Miss Laura—but she made me see that I could get over being so awfully afraid—and I did.”
“You said I did it,” there was reproach as well as jealousy now in Olga’s voice, “and it was Miss Laura.”
“O no, it was you really,” Elizabeth cried hastily, “because I did it for you. I never could have—never in this world!—only Miss Laura said it would please you. I did it for you, Olga.”
“Hm,” was Olga’s only response, but now there was in her eyes something that the Poor Thing had never seen there before—a warm human friendliness that made Elizabeth radiantly happy.
“There comes the war canoe,” Olga cried a moment later.
“How fast it comes—and how pretty the singing sounds!” Elizabeth returned.
They watched the big canoe as it flashed by, the many paddles rising and falling as one, while a dozen young voices sang gaily,