Their small accident now began to take on the
character of a ceremonial--an immersion incident to some religious rite or
observance; and the little Sunday crowd collecting on the water's edge
might have been members of some congregation sympathetically welcoming a
pair of converts to the faith.
"Let's hold our heads high and walk straight," said Cope, his arm in hers;
"heaven knows whom we are likely to meet. And throw your hat away--you'll
look better without it. Lord knows where mine is," he added, as he ran a
smoothing hand over his long locks.
"Very well," she said, casting away her ruined, ridiculous headgear with
her free arm. The other, in his, was giving more support to him, she felt,
than he was giving to her.
Just as they were about to reach dry land, amidst the congratulations and
the amused smiles of the little group at the foot of the bluff, the belated
crew of life-savers swept up in their smallest boat and insisted on
capturing them.
"Oh, Mr. Cope," said a familiar voice, "please let us save you. We haven't
saved a soul for months."
Cope recognized one of his own students and surrendered, though a kindly
house-owner on the bluff had been quick to cry across the intervening yards
of water his offer of hospitality.
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