Just as the boat, with its merry company, was about to pass beneath the bridge, a sweet little voice from above called out gaily:
“Hurrah! Allison, hurrah! See! I’ve got a pretty flag!”
Allison, who was seated in the stern of the boat, beside Gerald, glanced up at the sound, to see little Gladys Manning leaning far out through one of the spaces of the bridge above. For once she had escaped the watchful eyes of her mother, and had run out upon the bridge “to see the pretty bird swim on the water.” Some one had given her a little silken flag, and this she was now waving merrily at Allison.
“Take care, Gladys! Back! back!” cried Allison, almost breathless from fear as the boat shot under the arch, and the child leaned out farther to watch it.
But she spoke too late, for already the little one had lost her balance, and, with a shriek of fear, fell headlong into the water and disappeared from sight.
Cries and screams now filled the air, and for a moment a panic in the boat seemed inevitable.
“Sit still, everybody, and be quiet!” cried Gerald, in ringing, authoritative tones, while at the same moment he whisked off his coat and vest and slipped off his shoes. The next instant he sprang upon the seat, then dived out of sight.
Allison sat still in her place, her hands convulsively clasped upon her breast, her face as white as her dress. She scarcely seemed to breathe, and her agonized glance was fastened upon the spot where Gerald had disappeared.
The child had not risen to the surface, and it seemed an age before the young man reappeared.
But a great sigh, that seemed like a single moan, went up from every heart when he at length came up alone, gasping for breath.