she made no sound. The
next instant Olga had turned and was pulling her swiftly back to the
beach.

"There! You see it didn't hurt you," she said brusquely, but never
before had she looked at Elizabeth as she looked at her then. "Now run
to the bathhouse and rub yourself hard before you dress," she ordered.

But Elizabeth had turned again towards the water, and Olga followed,
amazed and protesting.

"Go back," cried Elizabeth over her shoulder, "go back. I'm going in
alone this time."

And alone she went until once more the water surged and rippled about
her neck. Only an instant--then she swayed and her eyes closed; but
before she could lose her footing Olga's hands were on her shoulders and
pushing her swiftly back to the beach. This time, however, she did not
stop there, but swept the small figure over to the bathhouse. There she
gave Elizabeth a brisk rubdown that set the blood dancing in her veins.

"Now get into your clothes in a hurry!" she commanded.

"I'm--n-not c-cold, Olga," Elizabeth protested with a pallid smile,
"truly I'm not. I'm just n-nervous, I guess."

"You're just a _brick_, Elizabeth Page!" cried Olga, and she slammed the
door and vanished, leaving Elizabeth glowing with delight.

Each day after that Elizabeth insisted on venturing a little more. Olga
could guess what it cost her--her blue lips and the terror in her eyes
told that--but day after day she fought her battle over and would not be
worsted. She learned to float, to tread water, and then, very, very
slowly, she learned to swim a little. Laura, looking on, rejoiced over
both the girls. Everybody was interested in this marvellous achievement
of the Poor Thing--they spoke of her less often by that name now--but
only Laura realised how much it meant to Olga too. The day that
Elizabeth succeeded in swimming a few yards, Olga for the first time
took her out on the water at sunset; she had never been willing to go
before. Even now she stepped into the boat shrinkingly, the colour
coming and going in her cheeks, but when she was seated, and the boat
floating gently on the rose-tinted water, the tense lines faded slowly
from her face, and at last she even smiled a little.

"Well," said Olga, "are you still scared?"

"A little--but not much. If I wasn't any afraid it would be lovely--like
rocking in a big, big beautiful cradle," she ended dreamily.

A swift glance assured Olga that they had drifted away from the other
boats--there was