"And you'll be in with her," screamed Cleo—"Madaline, grab that bush, never mind the old turtle!"
But Madaline had now reached the bottom, and feet first she struck the water, just as Mary grabbed her skirt and held on tight enough to keep her from sliding in further.
"Oh, my!" cried Madaline, trying to back out. "I thought I was gone."
"You were!" insisted Grace, who had come to the edge by way of a safer track through bushes instead of on an avalanche. "You almost frightened us to death! Just see how swift the water is here."
"I don't want to see it. The earth is swift enough for me," declared Madaline, shaking the water out of her slippers, which fortunately had not fallen off in the water. "I have been both fishing and turtle hunting to-night, and all I got was—wet," she groaned. "And my nice clean gingham! Whatever will Jennie say!"
"Nothing, dearie, don't you mind," soothed Cleo. "We are so glad to see you safely landed we can even forgive the turtle. It was a perfectly foolish thing to do, to fall in the brook at this hour, with not even a boy scout to perform a daring, dashing rescue. Madie, I'm surprised at your lack of judgment. Think how Mally Mack would have loved to pull you out by the hair!"
"And carry you home in his manly arms!" chimed in Grace. "What a chance wasted!"
"And think of rolling our little fat girl on a big bumple barrel——"
But Madaline had recovered her poise and posture, not to mention proclivities, and, taking to the better foot-hold on the clumps of grass along the bank, a little farther from the bridge, she managed to scamper after both her tormentors. Mary was also in the race, and on reaching the road safely even the turtle was forgotten.
"Am I all mud?" asked Madaline, shaking her skirts.