CHAPTER XXI
A SWIMMING LESSON
That afternoon Sylvia had her first swimming lesson. She had gonebathing several times with Minty Foster, but had never ventured beyondher depth. There was a flight of steps leading down to the water at theleft of Edna's cottage to a little natural harbor behind the rockmasses. No sandy beach was there. One dropped into sea green depthswhere only the amphibious could feel at home; but Edna was amphibious,and even Miss Lacey's shade hat, firmly tied beneath the chin, wassometimes seen to ride upon the wave as its owner indulged in a statelyswim from one point of rock to another. Her mouth and nose on theseoccasions were lifted from the waters in a scornful grimace. Twiceacross the pool Miss Martha swam with systematic deliberation, then,her hat and hair as dry as when she went in, she ascended upon a sunnyrock, and assuming a large woolen waterproof contented herself withobserving Edna's gambols. This afternoon she did not go in. The shadehat topped her Sunday gown of black grenadine, which was turned upcarefully about her as she sat on a rock and chaperoned her youngpeople. A straw "pancake" softened the asperities of her granite couch.
Dunham observed her erect attitude doubtfully. "Can't I get you somesofa pillows?" he asked.
"No, pancakes are what I always use," returned Miss Martha decidedly.
"That's true," said Edna, "especially on Sunday. Miss Lacey is willingto do anything on the spur of the moment except sit on it. She drawsthe line there; but Sunday is no day to be luxurious, is it, MissMartha?--not for a person whose forefathers fought in the Revolutionand ate leather."
"And it's not a good day to go in swimming, either," returned MissLacey uneasily. "I do hope, Edna, you'll come out before the islandersbegin to return from church. Some of them might come along this shore."
"Dear Miss Martha," said Edna, "we don't have Mr. Dunham every day, togive Sylvia a swimming lesson."
"And I'm just as scared as I can be," declared Sylvia, her curly hairand big eyes emerging from the mackintosh that enveloped her. "_I_never asked to go and see the land 'where corals lie,' and I don'tthink there's any bottom to that water."
The cottage had produced bathing suits for the guests, and althoughMiss Lacey had scruples, and sat very straight, darting glances toright and left through the trees, and held a copy of a Congregationalchurch paper prominently before her, she was glad of this opportunityfor her niece.
"You can learn, Sylvia," she said. "Benny Merritt taught me to swim inthat very spot, for I was determined to learn. I pulled out some of thepoor boy's hair, I remember; so be careful and don't grab Mr. Dunham bythe head."
Edna ran down a few steps, and throwing her cloak on a rock clasped herhands above her, launched herself through the air in a graceful arch,and disappeared in the liquid emerald.
Sylvia lifted despairing eyes to Dunham. "She just does that to make mecrazy," she said.
"We'll fool her, then," returned John. "We won't go crazy. Now lift upyour arms."
"You aren't going to put that thing on me!" exclaimed Sylvia, eyeingwith scorn the life-preserver he had picked up. "I thought that wassomething to sit on." She pinioned her elbows to her side. "Oh, I'dmuch rather drown than wear anything so unbecoming."
"Sylvia Lacey, lift up your arms this minute," commanded Miss Martha."I wore one for weeks. As it was, I pinched Benny a number of timeswhen I thought I was going down. Poor child, I distinctly remember ablack and blue spot on his cheek where I kicked him one day."
"Miss Sylvia, I'm growing awfully frightened," said John, while hebuckled. "Do you inherit your aunt's warlike propensities? You don'tneed to pull out my hair. I'll give you a lock of it in exchange forone of your curls." He had been observing the auburn rings that escapedunder the front of the little oilskin cap.
"So ignominious," said Sylvia, looking over her person with disfavor.
"After you get into the water I'll take it off the minute you say,"returned Dunham. "Let's make a bet, Miss Lacey. How long do you thinkshe will keep it on?"
"Mr. Dunham, this is Sunday," returned Miss Martha.
"Oh, so it is. Well, I'll go and do penance. Look your last on my manlybeauty, Miss Martha. We're off. Which side of the house does your niecetake after?"
"What do you mean? She's a Lacey to the backbone."
John groaned. "Then the last hope has fled. I thought that perhaps theingratiating Trent characteristics might come to the rescue, but now,expect to see me return bald and disfigured."
"Come on, you lazy people," called Edna; "it's glorious."
"O-o-o, 'where corals lie, where corals lie,'" shuddered Sylvia, as sheran down the steps. "Just look at that mermaid. Isn't it fun? It is aspoetical as those Elgar songs. She could just make up her mind to godown, and--_go_!"
"Well, shall we go too?" John offered his hand. She put hers into it."Are you game to jump?" he added.
"In a life-preserver!" ejaculated Sylvia in smiling contempt. "Yes.There," meeting Edna's eyes as she floated at ease, "there is thepoetry. Here comes the prose tumbling after."
Physical timidity was no part of Sylvia's nature; and now secure in theconsciousness of the life-preserver, and that Dunham would take care ofher anyway, and incited by the desire to appear courageous in his eyes,it was easy for her to take the leap. John jumped with her.
Despite her brave intention a gasping shriek burst from her as shestruck the flood. She was prepared not to be afraid of the depth of thewater, but she had forgotten its temperature.
"Oh, it's so cold!" she cried.
"No, this is quite warm," said John. "The wind has blown the surfacewater in. Wait a bit and you won't mind it."
He was treading water and steadying his companion. "Want thelife-preserver off?" he laughed.
"Indeed I'd rather have it than the most gorgeous gown in Boston," shereplied breathlessly, her spirits rising as she felt the strength ofhis arms. "Naught shall part me from it. Tell me what to do and I'll doit."
Edna swam around them with nonchalant, sidelong strokes, while Dunhamwent through the customary directions to the novice. She had beensplashing valiantly for some minutes when Miss Lacey, forsaking herpoint of lookout, crept gingerly, with fear for her grenadine, to theedge of the rocks.
"Children," she called in a hollow voice, "the people are returningfrom church."
"Well, what shall we do?" asked John. "Edna and I can stay under for areasonable length of time, but I should be obliged to drown MissSylvia. Does the situation demand it?"
"Benny Merritt is coming," still more acutely. "He's very near!"
"Well, when he sees this pool he'll fly with such hair as he has," saidJohn cheerfully.
"Oh," groaned Miss Martha, "I've so often told him it was wrong to swimon Sunday."
"Keep him," cried Edna; "I want him. We're coming out, anyway."
"Stay _in_," commanded Miss Lacey sepulchrally. "He may pass by," andshe sank on a rock, spread out her Congregational paper, and examinedthe columns from end to end with absorption.
But Benny had no idea of passing by. He had heard the voices from thewater and lounged toward Miss Lacey, but that lady declined to look up.
"Miss Sylvy's learnin' to swim, ain't she?" he remarked, when he hadstood unnoticed through a space of silence.
"Oh, good-afternoon, Benny," said Miss Martha severely. "Yes; a friendfrom home came unexpectedly, and offered to help her, and she and MissDerwent--and---- Was there a good congregation this afternoon, Benny? Ithought best to remain here with my young people."
"Guess so. I heard 'em hollerin' as I come by a little while ago."
"Oh, Benny, you should have been there." Miss Lacey spoke more insorrow than in anger; she was conscious that the object lesson he wasnow receiving would undo many of her faithful exhortations.
He directed an elaborate wink at the crown of her abased shade hat.
"Thought I'd ruther go swimmin'," he returned.
Miss Martha turned the leaves of her paper with a loud rustle. Thebathers were chattering and pulling themselves out of th
e water by thesteps.
Benny's eyes brightened as Edna's laugh sounded on his ear.
"You did very wrong to come to-day, Benny," she called to him brightly,throwing her cloak about her and coming dripping up the steep steps.
Benny grinned sheepishly. "Come to see if Miss Lacey wanted any clamsto-morrer," he drawled.
Edna shook her finger at him. "We don't swim on Sunday. Understand,Benny? We go to church and sing with all the good people--don't we?"for Benny was changing from one foot to the other, alternately grinningand solemn under Edna's bright gaze.
"Yes,--when you don't miss of it," returned the boy, who had hungaround the church steps to-day and peered within until he had satisfiedhimself that this was one of the missing days. He was a sufficientlydocile attendant at the sanctuary whenever it meant staring for an hourat the back of Miss Derwent's head.
"And whenever we miss, it is for some important reason," returned Ednaimpressively. "This is Mr. Dunham, Benny," for here John and Sylviacame up the steps. "He is a friend of mine from home. This is BennyMerritt, who is going to take us huckleberrying and blueberryingto-morrow."
"Awfully good of you, Benny, I'm sure," said Dunham, throwing down thelife-preserver, while Sylvia nodded at the boy and pulled off heroilskin cap.
"Oh, he isn't taking you berrying. You wouldn't care for it, wouldyou?" asked Edna.
"I don't know. I'm like the fellow who was asked if he could play theviolin. He said he didn't know, for he had never tried."
Miss Lacey looked from one to another of the bathers, who were nowsitting in the sun. She wondered what Mr. Dunham meant by talking aboutto-morrow. Was he not instantly going to get into his clothes and starton his way to the Tide Mill?
The same question was flitting through Edna's brain. She wondered ifher mother would approve her repeating the invitation to John to visitAnemone Cottage under present circumstances. The young man himself tookpossession of the situation.
"Your arrival is very opportune, Benny," he said. "I've just beenwondering who I could get to sail Mr. Johnson's boat back to the farm."
Edna's eyelids lifted. She wondered if her old friend had determined toinvite himself.
"You know where the Tide Mill is, I suppose?" went on Dunham, for Bennylooked unillumined.
"It is Thinkright's boat he wishes to have sailed back," said Edna.
"Oh, yes," answered Benny. "I know."
"I'm going to investigate your island a little farther, Edna," saidJohn. "I've found that there's a hostelry here. I can't bear to tearmyself away in ten minutes."
"To linger on Hawk Island is to be lost," returned Edna. "To change thesong slightly,--
'To see it is to love it, And love but it forever; For Nature made it what it is, And ne'er made sic anither.'"
"Then here goes to lose myself," returned Dunham, "for you can't loseme. Benny, how are you going to get my boat home?"
"Don't know," drawled Benny; "couldn't swim back agin."
"Well, you could take it over to-morrow and get back somehow, couldn'tyou?"
"Miss Edna, she wants to go berryin' to-morrer."
"So do I, then," remarked Dunham.
"You shall," laughed Edna. "We'll send another boy."
"It's a worse problem than the fox and the goose and the corn," saidJohn. "As Benny says, he can't swim back. I foresee a tragic future forThinkright's boat, plying restlessly between Hawk Island and the TideMill, driven by the inexorable fate that hounded the Wandering Jew."
"We'll send two boys and an extra boat," returned Edna. "The island isrich in both commodities."
She let Dunham go to the little hotel that evening.
"But it will be the last time," she said to Miss Lacey after he hadgone. "Why shouldn't I have a house party while Sylvia is here?"
"A man is a disturbing element on general principles," remarked MissMartha, "but I like him, and always did, from the moment he dusted achair for me with his handkerchief." She cleared her throat with suddenembarrassment as she glanced at Sylvia, who was listening with seriouseyes.
That day's errand seemed strange and remote.
"Where have you and Mr. Dunham met before?" asked Edna, turningsuddenly to her guest.
Sylvia was prepared for this question. "In Boston, only once. He met methere to arrange some business for Uncle Calvin."
"He is quite overcome by the change in your appearance. I'm not goingto tell you the nice things he said about you. I don't approve ofturning curly heads."
Sylvia colored and met Edna's kind eyes with a pleased, eager gaze. Howlovely if the Prince should like her as did her Princess.
The Opened Shutters: A Novel Page 22