Tommy had run out on one of the beams of the old mill race, where she was dancing up and down at the imminent risk of a ducking.
“Now, look out, girls,” warned Harriet. “I’m going to try to land him.” There was a lively scurrying on the part of the girls. The trout came up protesting and fighting every inch of the way. Then Harriet, having reeled in the line, pulled the trout in toward the bank.
Unfortunately for Harriet, but fortunately for the fish, Tommy Thompson was in the way. The trout slapped her squarely in the face ere Harriet had discovered her companion’s location. There was a shrill scream from Tommy, a light splash as the trout dropped into the pond, then a mighty splash as Tommy, losing her balance, went sprawling into the cold water.
“Oh, I have lost my fish!” wailed Harriet.
“Catch Tommy!” yelled Margery.
Harriet threw down her rod and ran out on the beam where Tommy had been standing before the disaster. Tommy was splashing and coughing, making frantic efforts to reach shore. Harriet knew the little blonde girl could swim, else she would have gone in after her. But Tommy wished to attract all the sympathy and attention of her companions in her direction, so she kept up a continuous screaming. Harriet reached down and gave her a hand.
“How’s the water, Tommy?” questioned Harriet, mischievously.
“Co-o-o-old,” chattered Tommy. “I’m fr-r-r-r-eezing. What did you knock me in for?”
“Why, I didn’t realize that you were standing there. Why did you make me lose my fish?”
“There, there, girls! Tommy go into the tent at once and take off your wet clothing. Put on dry clothes unless you wish to go to bed now.”