"Well, I like that—" Judy stared at him. "Oh, try to be a man,
Tommy, if you are a coward."
Tommy winced. "I'm not afraid," he defended.
"Perhaps not," said Judy, slowly, "but—but—if you had been a man you would have said, 'I am sorry I asked you to bring me, Judy.'"
"But—"
"Oh, we won't argue." Judy raised her voice as another blast came.
"I—I'm too tired to—to argue—Tommy—"
She swayed back and forth, holding on to the tiller weakly.
"I—I am so—tired," she tried to laugh, but her face was ghastly.
"I—I guess I wasn't very nice just now, Tommy,—but I—am—so tired.
You will have to steer, Tommy."
"But I don't know how," blubbered Tommy.
"You will just have to do it. I can't sit up—" and Judy tumbled down into the bottom of the boat, completely worn out from the unaccustomed strain.
Tommy whimpered in a frightened monotone as he grasped the tiller with inexperienced hands. What if Judy were dead? What—? "I'll never do it again. I'll never run awa—" but Judy did not hear, for she lay with her eyes shut in a sort of stupor in the bottom of the boat.