elf go. There is every reason why you should not, and
not one why you should."

"Yeth." Tommy turned over on her back. "Did you ever thwallow thalt
water?"

"I never did."

"Then don't. It ith awful. Oh, I'm tho tired and I'm getting thleepy."

Harriet roused herself instantly. She gave Tommy a brisk slap on one
cheek. Tommy cried out and began fighting back, with the result that
she was the one to swallow salt water. Tommy choked, strangled and
floundered, still screaming for Harriet to save her. Instead Harriet
let her companion struggle, keeping close to her, but making no effort
to help.

"Thave me!"

It was a choking moan. Uttering it, Tommy disappeared. Harriet lunged
for her and dragged her companion up, and none too soon, for the
little girl had swallowed so much salt water that she was really half
drowned. Harriet shook her and pounded her on the back, all the time
managing to float on the surface of the water, evidencing that
Harriet was something of a swimmer. Yet she was becoming weary and the
sense of feeling was leaving her limbs. She realized that it was the
chill of the Atlantic and that unless she succeeded in restoring her
circulation she would soon be helpless. Just now, however, all her
efforts were devoted to the task of arousing Grace. The little girl
began to whimper and to struggle anew.

"I am amazed at you, Tommy," gasped Harriet. "You, a swimmer, to
swallow part of the ocean!"

"I didn't. The ocean thwallowed me--e."

"You must work. Swim, Tommy!"

"I--I can't. I'm tho tired." Grace made languid efforts to prove that
she was weary. There could be no doubt of it. She did not have the
endurance possessed by her companion, and even Harriet's strength was
leaving her, because of that terrible numbness in her lower limbs, a
numbness that was creeping upward little by little.

"I will help you. But you must do something for yourself. Turn over on
your stomach. There. You need not try to fight it, just make swimming
motions, slowly. Not so fast. Now you have the pace."

"I can't keep it. My limbth will not work. My kneeth are thtiff. Oh,
Harriet, I think I'm going to die!"

"Nonsense! Why, you could swim all night, if necessary, and be up in
time for six o'clock breakfast just the same."

"Breakfatht. It will be fithh for breakfatht for Tommy Thompthon, I
gueth. Fithh, Harriet, fithh," mumbled Grace, then ceased swimming.
"Fithh!"

"Poor girl, she is about done for!" muttered Har