“Where’s Rhoda?” asked Patricia, looking around, when they reached the beach and were about to dive into the water.
“I should think she’d like at least to come and watch us,” said Patricia, when Anne had explained. “I’ll go up after a while and bring her down.”
Swimming in the open was very different from swimming in a tank, and after fifteen minutes of strenuous exercise the girls came out to lie on the sand in the warm sun for a little rest.
“Lend me your cloak, Anne,” requested Patricia, “and I’ll run up for Rhoda.”
“Don’t believe she’ll come,” replied Anne, handing Patricia her woolly bath cape.
“I’ll make her. The things will be all right. There isn’t a soul here today, except us.”
Wrapping the cape closely around her, Patricia started briskly along the path toward the picnic grounds. Rhoda was sitting on a big stone, half way down one of the sloping sides of the depression, in a pool of sunlight which some broken branches let through. So deeply interested was she in her book, that she did not see Patricia until the girl stood right in front of her.
“I came back to get you,” panted Patricia. “We don’t like to have you up here all by yourself. That’s no fun. Come on!” taking the book out of the maid’s hands.
“I really don’t mind,” began Rhoda.
“But we do,” Patricia cut her short, putting out both hands to help her up from the stone.
Laughing a little in protest, Rhoda got up and the two started down the hill.
“Why, there’s Clarice,” said Patricia, stopping short in surprise, as she caught sight of the girl, swinging carelessly along beside the lake just below them. “She’s all dressed. I thought she was with the rest of the crowd. I wonder what happened.”
“She’s too near the ragged edge,” exclaimed Rhoda sharply.
Hearing voices, Clarice looked up without checking her pace. Her foot struck a hole in the bank beside the path, and with a cry she slid down into the lake. Dropping Anne’s cloak, Patricia dashed down the hill and dove into the water.
A treacherous current had immediately swept Clarice away from the bank and was bearing her out toward the center of the lake. “No use to call for help,” thought Patricia; “the rest of the girls are too far away. Lucky that Clarice learned to swim after all; for she’ll be able to help herself a little. She’s gone down!” Striking out frantically, with legs and arms, Patricia made what speed she could toward the place where she had seen Clarice disappear. Fear and necessity gave her extra strength and speed, so that she was near enough to Clarice when the girl came up to seize her by the collar of her sweater.
With the irresistible inclination of a drowning person, Clarice tried to throw her arms around Patricia, who knew that meant disaster for both of them.
“Stop that!” she snapped. “Swim!”
“I can’t,” moaned Clarice, frantic with fear.
“You’ve got to! We’ll both drown if you don’t. Put your hand on my shoulder and strike out as I do. If you try to grab me around the neck, I’ll leave you.”
Clarice pulled herself together and tried to obey. It seemed to Patricia as if they made no progress at all, so weighed down was she with Clarice’s weight. Just one more stroke, she said to herself, when it seemed as if she could go no farther. Now one more. That wasn’t so bad. Now another. Encouraging herself, straining each muscle to the utmost, she at last reached the bank where Rhoda stood with one arm wound around the tree trunk and the other extended to help them scramble up the rough stones, slippery with moss.
As soon as they were safe again, Clarice threw herself flat on the ground and burst into a violent fit of tears.
“Let her cry,” advised Rhoda, as Patricia bent over the sobbing girl. “She’ll get over the shock more quickly.”
“But she’ll take cold,” objected Patricia, throwing Anne’s cloak over the prone figure.
“And so will you,” added Rhoda, removing her own coat, preparatory to wrapping it around the shivering girl beside her.
“You keep that. I’ll get my own,” protested Patricia, running up the hill to where the wraps were piled on one of the tables. Pulling her long brown coat from under several others, she wrapped it around her and returned to Clarice and Rhoda.
The former was still weeping with her face hidden in a bed of ferns.
“Clarice, get up!” ordered Patricia sternly. “No sense in having pneumonia just because you won’t control yourself. Get up, I said.”
Taking her firmly by the arms, with Rhoda’s help she raised the girl and wrapped Anne’s cape more closely around her.
“It’s a judgment on me!” quavered poor Clarice, as they led her up the hill.
“What’s a judgment?” demanded Patricia rather sharply.
“Being drowned because I cheated.”
“But you aren’t drowned,” objected Patricia, laughing in spite of herself. Clarice was such a child!
“I would have been, if it hadn’t been for you. I’ll never cheat again; I’m sure of that.”
“How and when and where did you cheat?” inquired Patricia, puzzled.
“Swimming test. A girl from upstairs went in when my name was called, passed, and Professor Wilson never knew the difference. She’s about my size.”
Patricia was speechless. What should one say under such circumstances? She shrank from the holier-than-thou attitude; yet to remain quiet might be taken as approval.
“What can we do about dry clothing for her, Miss Randall?” inquired Rhoda, saving the situation.
“I don’t know,” replied Patricia in a worried tone. “I guess I’d better drive her home to get some. It won’t take long.”
“I’d rather stay home, if you don’t mind,” said Clarice, drying her eyes.
“Why?”
“Oh, because.”
“It would be just as well if she’d take a hot bath and go right to bed,” advised Rhoda. “Shall I come, too, to help you?”
“Oh, no,” said Clarice quickly. “I’ll be all right.”
“And you’ll do as Rhoda suggests?” asked Patricia.
Clarice nodded and went toward Patricia’s car, while Patricia said to Rhoda in a low tone: “If any of the girls come back while I’m gone, tell them Clarice didn’t feel very well and I took her home. No point in letting them in on poor Clarice’s story.”
“You’re quite right,” agreed Rhoda.
“Patricia,” said Clarice, when they were on their way out of the parking section, “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Don’t bother about it. I’m glad I happened to be there.”
“Should I tell about the test?” inquired Clarice slowly after being silent for several minutes. “I’ve made up my mind to learn to swim before college closes for the summer.”
“Good! Then under those circumstances, you’ll be getting your promotion fairly; and it seems to me that any revelation of your—your—”
“My cheating,” supplied Clarice frankly.
“Would involve too many people. You see, Professor Wilson’s near-sightedness would be revealed, and perhaps cause his dismissal; the girl who subbed for