rd in your old 'good English' that does express 'brick?'"

"Well--it isn't easy!" Margaret admitted. "'Trump' is the only one I can
think of, and I suppose that was slang fifty years ago."

"The mother says that when a word has held its own for twenty years, it
isn't slang any more," said Gertrude. "The question is--"

At this moment the sound of a horn was heard; a long, ringing blast,
followed by a second and a third.

The girls sprang to their feet. "Hurrah for a swim!" cried Bell. "Come,
bricks and trumps--I'll race you all to the tents!" And off they went
with a flash of petticoats, leaving the chipmunk to speculate on the
sudden upheavals of nature.

CHAPTER VII.

WATER PLAY

THE floating wharf, as has been said, lay at the end of a long, narrow
slip that ran out on piers over the water. Down the slip, one by one,
now came the Merryweathers and their guests, in bathing array, the boys
shouting and skylarking,--the girls singing and tossing their long hair
about. Jack and Phil brought out a long spring-board, and set it up at
the end of the wharf; and then the fun began. Mr. Merryweather was the
first to run along the board, and take a sober and dignified dive. He
was followed by Gerald, turning handsprings, and carolling to the effect
that he was a pirate king, he was; hurrah for the pirate king! Next
came Jack, who turned a back somersault, ending with a noble splash;
and so, one by one, like so many ducks, they dove and leaped and tumbled
in, and splashed and swam about in the clear water. Peggy was with the
rest, splashing as merrily as any of them; but Margaret sat on the
wharf, in her pretty blue bathing-dress, her feet tucked under her,
looking on.

[Illustration: "'COME ON! COME IN!'"]

"Come on, Margaret!" cried Peggy. "Come on! come in! It's perfectly
great!"

"In a minute," said Margaret. "I like to watch you a bit first; it takes
me a little while to get my courage up."

"Come, oh, come with me!" sang Gerald, emerging from the water, at her
feet, and clinging to the wharf, while he shook the drops from his hair
and eyes. "Come swim with me and be my swan! Come where the duckweed
twineth! Come!"

"Oh, Gerald, yes; in just a minute. Is it very cold?"

"Cold? No; just right. Liquid crystal, sparkling sapphire, perfection!
Come, you must have your swimming lesson. Forget the cheerful
swain,--behold the stern instructor!"

He held out his hand with an imperative gesture. Margaret la