"Don't worry, Alice," said Quincy. "They are not in danger."

"But, Quincy, suppose it had been our boat." "If it had been," said
he, "you would be as safe in my arms as Florence is in those of the
Captain, providing you did not struggle."

Harry exerted his full strength and skill to overtake Maude, but she,
flushed with the excitement, her thin costume clinging close to her
form, reached the bank some twenty feet ahead of him.

"I had to do it," she cried, "and I suppose I must deliver the prize
by kissing myself."

Then her exuberant nature gave way, and she sank helpless to the
ground. Harry did not envy the Captain who was carrying Florence in
his arms, for was not Maude in his?

In the evening as they sat upon the veranda watching the dying
glories of the sun, Quincy said to Maude, "Why didn't you let Harry
bring you ashore?"

"The idea of it," she exclaimed. "And be under obligations to him--
not on your life. Think of poor Florence. If that Captain asks her to
marry him she must accept because he saved her life."

Later, when the sun had set, and the moonbeams silvered the surface
of the pond, Harry mustered up courage to ask Maude what she meant
when she said it was too great a responsibility to go out canoeing
with a man who couldn't swim.