When I found the water getting too deep for walking I started swimming.  As I swam I looked over my shoulder.  The two men were following me, both swimming easily.  Dr. Pettit was in the lead, but Harry Underwood, with powerful strokes, was not far behind him.  I concluded that Dr. Pettit had been the swifter runner, but that the other man was the better swimmer.

As I saw them coming toward me, I realized that I had given them a challenge which each in his own way would probably take up.  I was dismayed.  I felt that I could not bear the touch of either man’s hand.

In another moment my punishment had come.

Dr. Pettit overtook me, stretched out his hand, just touched me with a caressing, protecting little gesture, and said in a low tone, “Don’t be afraid, little girl:  If you will accord me the privilege, I will see that your friend does not get a chance of fulfilling his threat.”

I knew that he intended his words for my ear alone, but he had not counted on Harry Underwood’s quick ear.  That gentleman swam lazily toward us, saying as he passed us, with a malicious little grin: 

“Better go slow upon that protecting-heroine-from-villain stunt.  I see Friend Husband is getting a bit restless.”

He forged on into the surf, with long, powerful strokes that yet had the curious appearance of indolence which invests every action of his.

Startled at his words, I looked toward the place where I had last seen Dicky romping in the waves with Grace Draper.

The girl was swimming by herself.  Dicky, with rapid strokes, was coming toward us.

“For the love of heaven, Madge!” he said, angrily, as he came up to us.  “Haven’t you any more sense than to come away out here?  This sea is calm, but it is treacherous, and you are farther out than you have ever gone before.  Come back with me this minute.”

The sight of Grace Draper swimming by herself gave me an inspiration.  The game which Lillian had advised me to play was certainly succeeding.  I would keep it up.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” I demanded, assuming an indignation I did not feel.  “Dr. Pettit was saying nothing to me that could possibly interest you.”  I felt a little twinge of conscience at the fib, but I had too much at stake to hesitate over a quibble.  “As for casting sheep’s eyes, as you so elegantly express it, you’ve been doing so much of it yourself that I suppose it is natural for you to accuse other people of it.”

“Now what do you mean by that?” Dicky demanded, staring at me with such an innocent air that I could have laughed if I had not been thoroughly angry at his silly attempt to misunderstand me.

“Don’t be silly, Dicky,” I said, pettishly; “I can swim perfectly well out here and even if anything should happen, Dr. Pettit and Mr. Underwood are surely good swimmers enough to take care of me.”  I could not resist putting that last little barbed arrow into my quiver, for Dicky, while a good swimmer, even I could see, was not as skillful as either Mr. Underwood or Dr. Pettit.