blue Pacific, mingling with hundreds of other bathers who were enjoying
the sport.

Mrs. Montrose and Uncle John sat on the sands to watch the merry scene,
while the young people swam and splashed about, and they seemed--as Miss
Patsy slyly observed--to "get on very well together."

"And that is very creditable to your aunt," she observed to Maud Stanton,
who was beside her in the water, "for Uncle John is rather shy in the
society of ladies and they find him hard to entertain."

"He seems like a dear old gentleman," said Maud.

"He is, indeed, the dearest in all the world. And, if he likes your Aunt
Jane, that is evidence that she is all right, too; for Uncle John's
intuition never fails him in the selection of friends. He--"

"Dear me!" cried Maud; "there's someone in trouble, I'm sure."

She was looking out across the waves, which were fairly high to-day, and
Patsy saw her lean forward and strike out to sea with strokes of
remarkable swiftness. Bathers were scattered thickly along the coast, but
only a few had ventured far out beyond the life-lines, so Patsy naturally
sought an explanation by gazing at those farthest out. At first she was
puzzled, for all the venturesome seemed to be swimming strongly and
composedly; but presently a dark form showed on the crest of a wave--a
struggling form that tossed up its arms despairingly and then
disappeared.

She looked for Maud Stanton and saw her swimming straight out, but still