Then, turning to Rosalind, Miss Pat remarked, with the most casual air imaginable:
"Helen pronounces either with the long e. I noticed at luncheon that you say eyether. Where's your father, Rosalind?"
"Where's your father, Rosalind?"
My eyes were turning from her to Rosalind when, on her last word, as though by prearranged signal, far across the water, against the dark shadows of the lake's remoter shore, a rocket's spent ball broke and flung its stars against the night.
I spoke no word, but leaped over the stone balustrade and ran to the boat-house where Gillespie waited.