“Did you swallow much water?” asked Cora, anxiously.
“Nope,” was the sententious answer.
“I guess he’ll be all right,” remarked his sister. “If you will kindly row him over there, I’ll swim in,” and she pointed to the lighthouse.
“Do you live there?” asked Cora, gazing at the tall stone tower. With its high lantern, which glistened in the sun, it stood on a point extending out into the bay, just behind some menacing rocks that jutted far out into the water in a dangerous reef that the light warned mariners against.
“Yes, Dick and I live there,” answered the girl. “My father, James Haley, is keeper of the light. My name is Rosalie.”
“And you look it,” said Cora, brightly, as she noted the damask cheeks of the bathing girl.
“Oh, thank you!” came quickly.
“Won’t you get in this boat–I don’t know whose it is–I just appropriated it,” said Cora. “There is no need of your swimming.”
“Oh, I want to. I’ve gone clear across the bay, though Daddy had a boat follow me. I’ve won prizes swimming. No, I’ll just swim over.”
“Will your brother be all right with us?” and Cora looked at the small dripping figure in the boat.