“Why?” interrupted Pat, immediately on the defensive. “Was there anything thrilling in going faint in a canoe?”
“But why the canoe?” This was from Jean in her most caustic tone.
“Why not the canoe?” flung back Gloria.
“In November?”
“Certainly, or in December if one cared to,” Gloria slipped away from the most becoming cushion as she defended Jack. “For my part, I think water sports in the cooler weather lots more fun than in the broiling summer time.”
“Uh-huh!” chanted Pat. “We see you do. Has that cake of ice melted off your left biceps yet?” A lunge at the biceps went after the answer. “Gloria Doane, star swimmer of Lake Manypeaks, champion rescuer of floating canoes, and otherwise, notwithstanding and all the same, a fairish sort of girl——”
“Here, Pat, get your breath!” ordered Gloria forcibly, checking the flattering outburst. “We haven’t any more alcohol, and you’re too lumpy to rub easily.”
“Now, there,” choked Pat, “you spoiled my speech. I was going to say——What on earth was I going to say?”
“You said it,” retorted Jean. “We were discussing the unusual procedure of canoeing in winter. Gloria was for it, you know, but then, Gloria is from a sea coast town, aren’t you?”
“If she hadn’t been, I just wonder when and how we would have found poor Jack?” That from Pat settled Jean’s attempt at the usual “country girl” slur. Gloria turned her head up regally, however, and a couple of sniffs from her sympathisers were aimed directly at Jean. Somehow Jean couldn’t stay good natured long enough to even encourage the mood.