Amy obeyed meekly; she realized that the boat was moving, and she picked up the other oar, ready to row when she should feel that there was water under the boat.
“There, don’t come any further,” she cried. “You ’ll get your feet wet.”
“Oh, no, I won’t,” replied Fritz, “they are wet already;” and Amy saw that the boys were standing in water that came above their ankles.
“The worst is yet to come; push on, Ben;” and still deeper the boys waded into the water, while Amy exclaimed, a little uneasily, “Oh, what would your uncle say, to see your feet so wet!”
“Methinks he may never have the chance to say anything about it,” rejoined Fritz.
“There, you ’re off!” and, giving the boat a final push, he and Ben stood back, while Amy, in gratitude, waved one of her oars at them.
“Oh, by the way,” called Fritz, as she bent herself in the attitude of an oarswoman, “Ben says that he has n’t been introduced to you.”
Ben looked somewhat embarrassed, as Fritz, at the top of his voice, performed the ceremony of introduction.
“Miss Redmond, Mr. Ben Creighton.”
“Good-bye, Fritz, good-bye, Mr. Creighton; many thanks, and don’t catch cold.”
“And remember where you ’re bound,” retorted Fritz, teasingly. But Amy took no offence. It seemed to her just then as if she and Fritz would never again fall out.
