“That’s Miss Percy, the proudest girl on the island,” Miss Noble said to Elithe, who did not reply. She was too much absorbed in putting one foot in the water and taking it back again with a shiver to think of Clarice still watching her curiously. “I can’t be mistaken,” she was saying, when she saw Paul coming from the bath house and went to meet him. “You see I am here,” she said, putting her hand on his arm, “and so is your Western friend. See?” She pointed towards Elithe, who was now standing up to her waist in the water and resisting Miss Noble’s efforts to get her farther out. “Yes, I see. She’s afraid. They always are at first. Let’s go to her.” Elithe saw him coming and smiled pleasantly upon him, and then gave a little cry as a wave came tumbling in and nearly knocked her down. “Hallo!” Paul cried. “Frightened, arn’t you? That won’t do. Go under as soon as you can. Let’s have a dip.” Still holding Clarice’s hand, he seized Elithe’s and said to her: “Take hold of Clarice’s. Now, all hands round,” he cried, jumping up and down until both girls were thoroughly splashed with water and Elithe’s fears had entirely vanished. Clarice was never more angry in her life. To be thus associated with Elithe was too much to bear quietly. Wrenching her hands away without a word, she struck out for the raft at some distance from the shore, and, climbing upon it, sat down while Paul waded farther out, with his arm around Elithe, and then tried to make her swim. She proved an apt pupil, and he complimented her highly upon her skill. “By the way, where is Clarice?” he asked, looking round until he saw her. “Oh, there she is! Suppose we go to her. It’s not very far,” he suggested. Something warned Elithe to keep away from the raft while Clarice was there. “I don’t believe I’ll try it,” she said. “I guess I’ve done enough for one morning. I’m getting tired, and think I’ll go ashore if Miss Noble is ready.” Miss Noble was quite ready, and Paul went with them to the stairs and then swam back to the raft, where Clarice was still sitting. She had learned from experience that her little spurts of temper were lost on Paul, who either did not or would not notice them, and when he said to her, “You’ll take cold sitting there so long; come into the water,” she obeyed at once, and began swimming toward the shore. As they neared it and she was walking beside him she said: “Didn’t your Western friend come from Samona, and isn’t her father the Rev. Roger Hansford?” “Yes,” Paul replied, and Clarice continued, in a low tone: “I thought so. Funny, isn’t it? She has on my old bathing suit. I sent it to Samona in a missionary box with a lot more things.” “That accounts for its being so becoming to her,” Paul replied, shaking the water from his hair, as he went up the steps.