and Gerald held out at arm's
length, and the other boys dove through it, amid the applause of the
girls.

"Oh, pretty!" cried Peggy. "Do you do that, girls?"

"Gertrude does; I haven't tried it yet," said Bell, who was floating
placidly, her arms under her head, her face turned to the sky.

"I am going to try," said Peggy. "May I, Mr. Merryweather?"

"By all means!" said the Chief, heartily. "Take a good run--steady,
Jerry. Hold it out well--there! hurrah!"

For Peggy had gone through the hoop like a bird, and after a clean dive,
was coming up again, radiant and panting.

"Oh, Peggy, how splendid!" cried Margaret, her eyes shining with
pleasure and pride in her Peggy's prowess. "Gertrude, didn't she do it
well? Such a pretty, graceful thing to do."

"_C'etait une corquerre!_" said Gerald, heartily. "_Elle est aussi une
corquerre, la Peggy._ You will be doing it soon yourself."

"Oh, never, never! You cannot seem to understand, Gerald, that I am not
_made_ for these things. I love to see them; I admire them intensely,
but I cannot so much as think of trying."

"_Point de stonte pour Marguerite?_" said Gerald. "Alas the day! Because
you really would do them so corkingly, you know, if only you should do
them. Well, see here, I am going to give you a troll. You will like
that, I am sure."

"A troll? I thought they were mountain goblins. I don't want one, thank
you, sir! water nixies and pixies are as much as I can bear in the
goblin line."

"Verb, not substantive!" replied Gerald.

"I troll, thou lettest thyself be trolled, he, she, or it sees you being
trolled and wishes that he, she, or it had such luck. Observe!"

He climbed into one of the Rangeley boats that lay near the float,
loosed her moorings, and, taking up the oars, brought her close to the
rope. "Now, Margaret, catch hold; here, at the stern!"

"What are you going to do with me, Gerald? I fear thee, ancient mariner,
I fear thy skinny hand!"

"I hold you with my glittering eye, you cannot choose but come. I am
going to take you off a-trolling. Hold on tight with your hands, and let
all the rest of you go, as if you had nothing to do with it."

He took a few strokes, slowly and easily. Margaret, clinging to the
stern, was drawn along without effort or motion of her own. Her long
hair floated behind her; her white arms gleamed like ivory through the
clear water; her face was alight with pleasure.

"'Not wholly bad, Lysander Pratt?'" quoted Ge