"I want to see you, Philip; come ashore, please."
The rocking ceased. "I don't want to see you," Philip answered, telling the truth, in its deepest significance, unintentionally. "I shall not come ashore." And the rocking was resumed.
"You will have to come ashore some time; I will wait for you," May answered. "Sit down, Phyllis; I shall wait for him if I stay all night."
They sat down on the grass-fringed edge of the lake. Philip and his companion rocked, and jumped, and shouted noisily. They were too far distant for May or Phyllis to hear how it began, but presently they began to dispute and to push each other, and then, somehow—for no one ever knows how such accidents occur—they made a false movement, the boat tipped over on one side, and they went into the water with a great splash. The boat righted itself and swung idly on the little waves.
"They will drown!" shouted Phyllis, springing to her feet.
"No, they won't," said May. "They will get a good wetting, that's all. The water can't be deep; besides, Philip told me he could swim."
"They are not swimming," said Phyllis. "We'd better go for somebody."
"Help!" shouted one of the boys, coming to the surface.
At this cry May threw her hat on the bank and walked into the water without a word.
"Come back!" cried Phyllis, in alarm.