brought handclapping approval from the girls.

"A sweet dive, balanced beautifully," Graham told him as he emerged
from the tank.

Bert tried to appear unconscious of the praise, failed, and, to pass
it off, plunged into the wager.

"I don't know what kind of a swimmer you are, Graham," he said, "but I
just want in with Dick on the cigars."

"Me, too; me, too!" chorused Ernestine, and Lute, and Rita.

"Boxes of candy, gloves, or any truck you care to risk," Ernestine
added.

"But I don't know Mrs. Forrest's records, either," Graham protested,
after having taken on the bets. "However, if in five minutes--"

"Ten minutes," Paula said, "and to start from opposite ends of the
tank. Is that fair? Any touch is a catch." Graham looked his hostess
over with secret approval. She was clad, not in the single white silk
slip she evidently wore only for girl parties, but in a coquettish
imitation of the prevailing fashion mode, a suit of changeable light
blue and green silk--almost the color of the pool; the skirt slightly
above the knees whose roundedness he recognized; with long stockings
to match, and tiny bathing shoes bound on with crossed ribbons. On her
head was a jaunty swimming cap no jauntier than herself when she urged
the ten minutes in place of five.