"Let me get near the rope!" she said, rather nervously.
"Here is the rope, close by your hand. Now, then, hold fast! There we go!"
With one hand on the rope, and the other in Gerald's, Margaret slid into the water, giving a little cry as it bubbled up about her. "Gerald!"
"Right here, my lady. There; both hands on the rope now. Take it easy! Now you are all right."
"Ye'—yes, Gerald. Oh, isn't it glorious?"
"Rather! It's really the element to live in, you see. A mistake was made somewhere. If I had but gills, I should ask no more of fate. As it is—"
He dove, and came up on the other side of the rope. "Don't you think I would be charming with gills,—pretty little quivering, rosy gills,—instead of side whiskers?"
"I never saw you in side whiskers," said Margaret, demurely, "so I cannot tell. You certainly don't seem to need the gills, though. How do you manage to keep under so long? Yesterday, when you stayed down picking up these pebbles, I was sure something had happened. Really, Gerald, I was very much frightened."
"I ought to have been switched," said Gerald. "I never thought of your noticing. I say, come down with me, and I'll show you the trick of it. It's just as easy!"
"Not for worlds!" cried Margaret, clutching the rope, as if she expected to be dragged from it by force. "I never should come up alive. Oh, look, Gerald! what are they going to do now?"