At twelve-fifteen people are not strolling or
tramping; they're thinking of their dinner. We have a full hour or more for
making less than two easy miles before we reach _ours_."
"No need to hurry, then."
The beach, at its edge, was firm, and they strolled on for half a mile and
cooled off as they went. The air was mild; the noonday sun was warm; both
of them had taken off their coats.
They sat down under a clump of basswoods, the only trees beyond the foot of
the sand-slope, and looked at the water.
"It's like a big, useless bathtub," observed Randolph.
"Not so much useless as unused."
"Yes, I suppose the season _is_ as good as over,--though this end of
the lake stays warm longer than most other parts."
"It isn't so much the warmth of the water," remarked Cope sententiously.
"It's more the warmth of the air."
"Well, the air seems warm enough. After all, the air and the sun are about
the best part of a swim. Do you want to go in?"
Cope rose, walked to the edge of the water, and put in a finger or two.
"Well, it might be warmer; but, as I say...."
"We could try a ten-minute dip.
Pages:
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102