Their eyes met frankly. "Thank you for coming to my rescue," she said.
"But you've been standing in the water all this time! What am I thinking
of! Come up here."
She sprang to her feet, as if to make room for him upon the rock, but
sank back quickly. He gave her a scrutinizing glance.
"What was that I heard?"
"I asked you to get out of that horrid water. It must be frightfully
cold."
He shook an admonitory finger. "Bravely done, but you can't fool me so
easily. I heard a moan, and--and I won't remark that you're crying."
"You'd--better not."
"You hurt yourself when you stumbled." His firm hand was on her
shoulder.
"No--n-o. Well, even if I did turn my ankle, I'm not crying. It's very
tactless of you to notice."
He tried to catch a glimpse of the slim leg through the dancing water.
It swung back in vigorous embarrassment.
"The other ankle, then?"
"Ye-es."
"I'm awfully sorry. Can't I do something?"
"I think I'll go home."
"But you can't walk."
"I think so. Isn't this just too tiresome? I _will_ walk."
She rose to her feet at the word, but, once there, gave a cry, and stood
tottering. His arm caught her about the waist.
"Where do you live? Near here anywhere?"
"Oh, yes; just up the lane. But it might as well be ten miles." Her
brave laugh was half a sob.
"Not a bit of it! Hold tight."
She flushed and gave an astonished wriggle as she found herself lifted
and borne up the lane.
"Don't squirm so, child," he ordered.
"You're carrying me!"
"Oh, no! We're playing lawn-tennis."
"Goodness! You fairly _grabbed_ me."
"Perhaps I ought to have asked your permission, but if I had you might
have refused it."