“‘Yes, and you enjoyed that, too—didn’t you?’
“Ilse reflected.
“‘I guess so, Emily; you’re an uncanny thing. I won't talk about it any more. Let’s go bathing. No dresses? What does it matter. There isn’t a soul for miles. I can’t resist those waves. They’re calling me.’
“I felt just as she did, and bathing by moonlight seemed such a lovely, romantic thing—and it is, when the Potters of the world don’t know of it. When they do, they smudge it. We undressed in a little hollow among the dunes—that was like a bowl of silver in the moonlight—but we kept our petticoats on. We had the loveliest time splashing and swimming about in that silver-blue water and those creamy little waves, like mermaids or sea nymphs. It was like living in a poem or a fairy tale. And when we came out I held out my hands to Ilse and said:
Curtseyed when we have and kissed,
The wild winds whist,
Foot it featly here and there
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.’
“Ilse took my hands and we danced in rings over the moonlit sands, and then we went up to the silver bowl and dressed and went home perfectly happy. Only, of course, we had to carry our wet petticoats rolled up under our arms, so we looked rather slinky, but nobody saw us. And that is what Blair Water is so scandalised about.
“All the same, I hope Aunt Elizabeth won’t hear of it.
“It is too bad Mrs. Price lost so much sleep over Dean and me. We were not performing any weird incantations—we were simply walking over the Delectable Mountain and tracing pictures in the clouds. Perhaps it was childish—but it was great fun. That is one thing I like about Dean—he isn’t afraid of doing something harmless and pleasant just because it’s childish. One cloud he pointed
