“Put your hand on my shoulder,” Nancy ordered, “but don’t grab me. Rosa! Rosa! Can’t you hear?”
Then, realizing that her cousin must indeed be stunned, Nancy shouted lustily for help.
“Help! Help! At the landing!” she screamed, meanwhile getting hold of Rosa’s little skirt and trying desperately to raise the girl to the surface of the water.
The moments were agonizing, but Nancy tried to keep up her courage, calling as she struggled. But there was very little hope for immediate response, since each estate encompassed a large strip of territory and the bathers were now scattered, in canoes, most of them following the sun to dry out, down near the big float.
Finally, Nancy heard the welcome sound of disturbed water, and then saw approaching the Fernlode dock, a small launch.
“This way! This way!” she yelled frantically, her own strength ebbing from her continued paddling to keep afloat, and grabbing for a better hold on Rosa, for the water off the big bank at the side of the dock was suddenly deep, and decidedly treacherous, real depth being necessary for boat landings.
The launch was now alongside.
“Oh, quickly, please!” begged Nancy. “I think she’s stunned.”
Then she saw that the boat was being run by Orilla! And she was, as usual, alone.
“Don’t get so excited,” snapped the girl. “I don’t see what you’re so scared of. She could wade out of there.”