She watched with envy the small beginnings that betokened in the boys a return to the serious play of life. Charley Burns gave Freddy Larkin an unexpected ducking. Freddy came up spluttering and blowing, but with a handful of slimy mud which he plastered over Charley's white head. Then a splash fight became general. Every one splashed water into every one else's face. Margery noted with interest the peculiar downward stroke of the flat hand which brought about the finest results. She added her shouts to the boys', and longed to add some splashes likewise.
Now, the progress of a splash fight is thus: At first there are no sides—every man's splash is against every man's; but the splashes of all turn immediately against him who shows first signs of defeat; and he, the victim, may then use any means whatever to protect himself.
Eddie Grote was the victim this time. When the deluge became choking, he turned his back, ducked, and then let fly in the general direction of the allied forces two slimy handfuls of mud. In the excitement of the game the boys had clean forgot the immodesty of bare shoulders, and had even broken away from their original close grouping until, to all appearances, Margery was one of them. So it happened that, when Freddy Larkin dodged aside, one handful of the watery mud caught Margery square on the head and splattered down over her face and ears.
"Aw, see what you done, Eddie Grote!" Tommy Grayson shouted indignantly. "You went and throwed mud on Margery's hair ribbon! Ain't you got no sense?"
In the pause that followed, four little boys reviled the fifth with various forms of, "Aw, what'd you do that for?" And the fifth stood still in awkward consternation, the mud still dripping from his guilty hand.
For a moment Margery, too, was concerned, but only for a moment. When, under any circumstances, one's world is coming to an end within a few hours at furthest, a hair ribbon more or less matters very little. Moreover, it suddenly flashed upon Margery that here was a chance to make those few remaining hours more golden and at the same time gratify her soul with a trial at that masterly downward stroke of the flat hand. So before Eddie Grote had time to close his astonished mouth, she filled it with a mighty splash of water. Then, while Eddie choked and spluttered, too surprised to defend himself, she sent another well-aimed splash and another, until the gasping Eddie was forced to turn and flee. Not even then did Margery stop, but, following up her advantage, she drove him on and on toward shore.
In their ecstasy at the spectacle, the remaining boys leaped up and down in the water like happy little trout, clapping their hands and shouting:
"Hurrah for Margery!"
"Give it to him, Margery!"
"I bet on Margery!"