"Oh, how can I tell? One is Gertrude's, the other Gerald's."
"There can be little doubt in that case, I imagine," said Claud Belleville, with a peculiar smile. "As a matter of simple gallantry—dear me, how unfortunate!"
As he spoke, his oar slipped from his hand, and fell with a splash into the water. The Come-at-a-Body was nearest to the Rangeley boat. The oar did not absolutely touch the tiny vessel, but the shock of the disturbed water was enough to check her gallant progress. She paused,—wavered,—finally recovered herself, and went bravely on. But in that pause the Jollycumpop crossed the line triumphantly, amid loud acclamations.
"The little Gertrude wins!" exclaimed Mr. Belleville, recovering his oar with graceful composure. "We can hardly regret an accident which contributes even slightly to give the victory where it so manifestly belongs, can we, Miss Montfort?"
But Margaret Montfort turned upon him, her fair face flushed with anger, her gentle eyes full of fire.
"Mr. Belleville, you dropped that oar on purpose!" she said, quietly.
"How can you suspect me of such a thing?" replied Mr. Belleville, laughing. "But, quand même! would it have been wholly unjustifiable if I had done so?"
"Wholly, to my mind!" said Margaret. "In fact, I cannot imagine such a thing being done by any one who—" she checked herself.
"By any one who is related to these dear people?" said Mr. Belleville, lightly. "Ah! Miss Montfort, a bond of blood does not always mean a bond of sympathy. These dear people bore me, and I bore them. Believe me, it is reciprocal. But do you yourself never tire of this everlasting childishness, these jeux d'enfance, on the part of persons who, after all, are mostly beyond the nursery?"
"I do not!" said Margaret, concisely. "If you will take in the anchor, Mr. Belleville, I think I should like to go ashore, if you please."