"Now your sweater."
Natalie had watched this scene with evident concern. She now seated herself upon a boulder and began to tug at her rubber boots.
"Here! Here! You're not going, too!" O'Neil exclaimed.
"Yes, I am. I'm frightened to death, but I won't be a coward." Her shaking hands and strained voice left no doubt of her seriousness.
"She can't swim," said Eliza; and O'Neil put an end to this display of heroism with a firm refusal.
"You'll think I'm afraid," Natalie expostulated.
"Bless you, of course we will, because you are! So am I, and so is Eliza, for that matter. If you can't swim you'd only be taking a foolish risk and adding to our danger. Besides, Eliza doesn't know the feel of cold water as we do."
Natalie smiled a little tremulously at recollection of the shipwreck.
"I'd much rather walk, of course," she said; and then to Eliza, "It—it will be a lovely ramble for us."
But Eliza shook her head. "This is material for my book, and I'll make enough out of it to—to—"