You Are Liable To
Occasionally Splash A Little When Sculling, And It Appeared That A Drop
Of Water Ruined Those Costumes.
The mark never came out, and a stain was
left on the dress for ever.
I was stroke. I did my best. I feathered some two feet high, and I
paused at the end of each stroke to let the blades drip before returning
them, and I picked out a smooth bit of water to drop them into again each
time. (Bow said, after a while, that he did not feel himself a
sufficiently accomplished oarsman to pull with me, but that he would sit
still, if I would allow him, and study my stroke. He said it interested
him.) But, notwithstanding all this, and try as I would, I could not
help an occasional flicker of water from going over those dresses.
The girls did not complain, but they huddled up close together, and set
their lips firm, and every time a drop touched them, they visibly shrank
and shuddered. It was a noble sight to see them suffering thus in
silence, but it unnerved me altogether. I am too sensitive. I got wild
and fitful in my rowing, and splashed more and more, the harder I tried
not to.
I gave it up at last; I said I'd row bow. Bow thought the arrangement
would be better too, and we changed places. The ladies gave an
involuntary sigh of relief when they saw me go, and quite brightened up
for a moment. Poor girls! they had better have put up with me. The man
they had got now was a jolly, light-hearted, thick-headed sort of a chap,
with about as much sensitiveness in him as there might be in a
Newfoundland puppy. You might look daggers at him for an hour and he
would not notice it, and it would not trouble him if he did. He set a
good, rollicking, dashing stroke that sent the spray playing all over the
boat like a fountain, and made the whole crowd sit up straight in no
time. When he spread more than pint of water over one of those dresses,
he would give a pleasant little laugh, and say:
"I beg your pardon, I'm sure;" and offer them his handkerchief to wipe it
off with.
"Oh, it's of no consequence," the poor girls would murmur in reply, and
covertly draw rugs and coats over themselves, and try and protect
themselves with their lace parasols.
At lunch they had a very bad time of it. People wanted them to sit on
the grass, and the grass was dusty; and the tree-trunks, against which
they were invited to lean, did not appear to have been brushed for weeks;
so they spread their handkerchiefs on the ground and sat on those, bolt
upright. Somebody, in walking about with a plate of beef-steak pie,
tripped up over a root, and sent the pie flying. None of it went over
them, fortunately, but the accident suggested a fresh danger to them, and
agitated them; and, whenever anybody moved about, after that, with
anything in his hand that could fall and make a mess, they watched that
person with growing anxiety until he sat down again.
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