“Oh, Veve!” she exclaimed. “You were so sure you could walk across.”
Veve did not hear because she was trying to untangle herself from the mass of roots and plants. Standing up, she tore off a big green lily pad which had plastered itself across her face.
“Just look at yourself,” chided Connie. “You’re dripping wet. And my pretty umbrella!”
“Oh, it will dry out,” mumbled Veve. She waded to the side of the pool.
“Veve!” called a voice from across the yard. “Veve McGuire!”
The girls turned to see Mrs. McGuire coming toward them. She had returned from work and her face was quite stern.
“Veve, come into the house!” she exclaimed. “You’ve fallen into the lily pond and ruined your clothes.”
“I couldn’t help it, Mother,” mumbled Veve, wringing water from her limp skirt. “The rope broke. And I hurt myself too. On a rock.”
Mrs. McGuire glanced carefully at the bruised place on Veve’s knee. She saw that the skin had not been broken.
“What were you trying to do this time, Veve?” she asked with a sigh.