"She's
gone into it all over."

"Into the surf?" Cicely inquired, as she scooped little mounds of sand
over his feet.

"Yes, just that. She swims under water like a fish. There isn't another
girl here to beat her. You are nothing but a porpoise beside her, Cis,
and you swim fairly well. Hope, I do wish you'd take lessons. I'm tired
of seeing you chug up and down beside that lifeline."

"Do you know," Theodora said meditatively; "I'd rather face the
footlights at the Metropolitan than come down this beach at the bathing
hour. It makes me feel pigeon-toed in the extreme."

Cicely eyed her with a calm lack of comprehension born of healthy
girlhood.

"I don't see why," she said.

"Because you stay in the water, and can't hear the gossip along shore,"
Theodora answered. "Just you stay out here, some morning, and sit in the
Dragons' Row, as Billy calls it, and you will find out what I mean.
Charity covers a multitude of sins; but it never drapes an awkward woman
in an unbecoming bathing suit."

"That is where Babe has the advantage," Hubert remarked. "She isn't
exactly graceful; but she is no more awkward than an unbroken colt."

"And she acts a good deal like one," Hope added, laughing. "Still, she
may get broken soon, so let's let her go her ways in peace. She has
worked hard, the past six months, and she deserves to be allowed to take
her vacation in any form she chooses."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Down on the shore, Dragons' Row was holding high carnival. It was the
bathing hour, when those who had much energy plunged through and through
the breakers, those who had little floundered in the edge of the foam,
and those who had none sat upright under the awnings, lorgnette in hand,
and passed judgment upon their fellows. The tall, sinewy bathing master
sat on the shore, his yellow collie beside him, enjoying an interval of
well-earned leisure, for at this season he was the most conspicuous and
the most popular figure on Quantuck beach. Just now, he was looking on in
manifest pride at the skill of his latest pupil, Phebe McAlister. Even
Dragons' Row fell silent, when Phebe took to the water for her noon bath.
It was good to see her free, firm step as she came down the board walk,
dressed in the plain black suit which set off her fresh, clear skin and
her bright hair. Phebe scorned caps entirely, and no sunburn could
roughen her cheeks. Her suit fitted her, and she was as trim and comely
in it as in her more con