“That’s Miss Percy, the proudest girl on the island,” Miss Noble said to Elithe, who did not reply.
She was too much absorbed in putting one foot in the water and taking it back again with a shiver to think of Clarice still watching her curiously.
“I can’t be mistaken,” she was saying, when she saw Paul coming from the bath house and went to meet him. “You see I am here,” she said, putting her hand on his arm, “and so is your Western friend. See?”
She pointed towards Elithe, who was now standing up to her waist in the water and resisting Miss Noble’s efforts to get her farther out.
“Yes, I see. She’s afraid. They always are at first. Let’s go to her.”
Elithe saw him coming and smiled pleasantly upon him, and then gave a little cry as a wave came tumbling in and nearly knocked her down.
“Hallo!” Paul cried. “Frightened, arn’t you? That won’t do. Go under as soon as you can. Let’s have a dip.”
Still holding Clarice’s hand, he seized Elithe’s and said to her: “Take hold of Clarice’s. Now, all hands round,” he cried, jumping up and down until both girls were thoroughly splashed with water and Elithe’s fears had entirely vanished. Clarice was never more angry in her life. To be thus associated with Elithe was too much to bear quietly. Wrenching her hands away without a word, she struck out for the raft at some distance from the shore, and, climbing upon it, sat down while Paul waded farther out, with his arm around Elithe, and then tried to make her swim. She proved an apt pupil, and he complimented her highly upon her skill.
“By the way, where is Clarice?” he asked, looking round until he saw her. “Oh, there she is! Suppose we go to her. It’s not very far,” he suggested.
Something warned Elithe to keep away from the raft while Clarice was there.