Taking her fright literally in her hand and casting it into the brook, Nora stepped into Jimmie’s boat, smiling as if she were expecting the best good time of her life. A thought of her nervous mother barely had time to shape itself before all were seated, and the freckled faced Jimmie handed over the oars, without so much as uttering either a protest or agreeing to the piracy.
“Don’t you love a little lake like this?” asked Betta, noticing how silent was her companion.
“I have never been on the water,” said Nora truthfully. “At our school we are not allowed to take part in any dangerous sports.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Thistle. “How you must miss good times.”
“But we have many lovely parties and dances and all that sort of thing,” explained Nora. Her voice was entirely friendly and the difference of opinions by no means clashed.
It was delightful. The girls sang, whistled, shouted and coo-heed, as occasion demanded, the occasion being that of answering bird calls from shore. Imitating birds was counted as the latest outdoor sport, and the Chickadees vied with one another in the accomplishment.
“She’s leakin’,” said Jimmie without warning or apology.
“I should say she is!” cried Wyn, jerking her feet up from the bottom of the boat. “Jimmie Jimbsy! Why didn’t you say so?”
“Oh, you didn’t give me a chance,” replied the lad frankly.
“Oh, is it dangerous?” gasped Nora. Her cheeks went pale instantly.