But more than the disclosure of the Gridley girl’s limbs was in store for Nathan that afternoon. Bernice splashed in the water until she slipped and fell. With a wild scream and a tremendous plunge, she went down and for a sickening moment the water eddied over her. Nathan was in the brook at once. He clutched at Bernie’s dress before she could be carried out into the greater depth. Unmindful of himself, he got his arms beneath her. With the panic-stricken girl gasping and choking, he lifted her and carried her back to shore. The water made her lacy clothing sinuous about her body. “I’m wet—wet—wet to the s-s-skin!” she chattered, as she tried to pull her sloppy skirts about her limbs—velvety limbs, now ruddy with the shock of the water. “Oh, what will I do—whatever will I do?” “Guess by the looks of the sky, both of us is goin’ to get still wetter before we leave,” Nathan managed. “We’re goin’ to have a nawful shower. Listen!” In the high northwest the thunderheads had been piled up. A few moments later the storm broke. Boy and girl were immediately soaked to the last inch of their frightened, quivering bodies. That thunderstorm saved Bernice a bad piece of explanation when she finally entered the home of her parents that evening. The thunder rattled and clacked furiously about the heavens. The great drops of rain pelted the forest foliage and surface of the brook like bullets. And huddled side by side under a tree, Nathan and Bernie drew close together and covered their heads as best they could with Nathan’s coat. The girl gripped the boy hysterically when the thunder bowled loudest. The boy was badly frightened himself but he strove to comfort her. And through it all he sensed her soft, vibrant, rain-soaked body and the abyss of sex opened wider and wider. III The storm finally ended, the clouds parted, the thunder moved off muttering to the southwest. A radiant sun broke through. Bernice seated herself in its invigorating warmth. She removed the bedraggled ribbons and shook down her straw-colored hair. Barefooted and nude of limb still, she recovered her composure and began to make light of the incident. But Nathan was thoughtful. “You act as if you were afraid of me,” Bernice cried petulantly. The boy sat apart, beating a stick intermittently on the leaves. “Aw, I ain’t afraid,” he laughed nervously, there being few things less pitiful than a boy striving to affect the sophistication he knows he lacks. “Then what’s the matter with you? Have I done anything ‘specially wicked?” “No! You ain’t done nothin’ wrong, I guess.” But they stole forth, back down the woods road as Adam and Eve must have stolen from the Garden. Just before they emerged into the clearing, Bernice turned. She clutched Nathan’s coat. “Don’t you ever tell I took off my shoes and stockings!” she commanded. “Promise me! And don’t you dare break your promise!” The boy agreed readily enough.