An Accidental Honeymoon

"Did I scream?"

"Rather! Lucky you did."

"I didn't scream because I was afraid. I stumbled and--and I thought I saw an eel in that pool, ready to bite me. Eels do bite."

"Undoubtedly--horribly!"

He stepped back with a little flourish of the hat in his hand. "I beg your pardon," he said. "I took you for a child. That dress, you know, and----"

"And my being in paddling."

"I'm afraid I've been rather presumptuous."

The color in her cheeks deepened a little. "Not at all. It's my own fault. This afternoon--just for an hour or two--I've been dreaming--pretending I wasn't grown up. It's so sad to be grown up."

His eyes sparkled with instant sympathy. "After all, are you so very old?"

She was seventeen or thereabouts, he guessed--a girl lately arrived at womanhood. Her hair was arranged in a bewildering fashion, requiring a ribbon here and there to keep its blonde glory within bounds. Beneath the dark brows and darker lashes blue eyes showed in sudden flashes--like the glint of bayonets from an ambush. The delicately rounded cheeks, just now a little blushing, and the red-lipped mouth, made her look absurdly young.

She had sunk to a seat upon the rock. One foot was doubled under her, and the other, a white vision veiled by the water, dangled uncertainly, as if inclined to seek the retirement possessed by its fellow. His gaze lingered on the curve of throat and shoulder.

"If Phidias were only alive----" he said.

"Phidias?"

"A Greek friend of mine, dead some years. He would have loved to turn you into marble."

She gave a little crowing laugh, delightful to hear. "I'd much rather stay alive."

"You are right. Better be a Greek goddess alive, than one dead."

She laughed again, "You're--unusual."

He bowed with another flourish. "Then, so are you."

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!"