"You ought to be ashamed to sit there," she said, "when all the others are going on!"
"Yes, they 're turning somersaults and things, are n't they?" he answered placidly. "I don't do those stunts."
"Floyd Halket does them beautifully."
"Yes. It seems—well, don't you think—not quite refined?"
He spoke with a twinkle in his eyes, and so she forgave him and laughed. She was of about the same age as the boy, seventeen or eighteen, perhaps, a brown, out-of-door-looking girl, with a ripened autumnal color and with dark hair that was now being blown forward about her temples. There was a merry, reckless light in her gray eyes, and pleasure-loving laughter seemed always perching on her lips.
"Of course," she said, "it's much more dignified to dive only once and be the most perfect, graceful thing that ever was."
"Well," Stewart answered comfortably, "so long as you thought I was that."
"And yet," she continued, "I hate to see anybody give a thing up because he's beaten."
"I have n't given up," he answered. "I'm only saving myself for the swim under water."
"Good gracious, you stand no chance at all in that! Why, Floyd Halket simply lives under water."
"Oh, Floyd Halket!" He spoke wearily. "Who is he, anyway? Does n't he come from your town?"
"Yes, of course; you must have heard of the Halket Steel Mills. Where have you lived all your life?"
"Funny how he learned to swim so well in that inland place!"
"As if all the good swimmers lived on the Massachusetts coast!"
"It does n't seem right for a fellow to turn up here for just a part of a summer, go into the water sports, and beat everybody that's been coming to Chester for years."
