"There's
such a large crab lives this side."
It was an engaging voice--a voice with soft, lilting notes in it--the
voice of a child.
Courteney's face cleared a little. The grimness went out of his frown,
the reluctance from his attitude. He stood up against the rocky barrier
and stretched his hands over to the unseen owner of the voice.
"I'll help you," he said.
"Oh!" There was an instant's pause; then two other hands, wet, cool,
slender, came up, clasping his. A little leap, a sudden strain, and a
very pink face beneath a cloud of golden hair laughed down into his.
"You must pull," she said; "pull hard!"
Courteney obeyed instructions. He pulled, and a pair of slim shoulders
clad in white, with a blue sailor collar, came into view. He pulled
again, and a white knee appeared, just escaping a blue serge skirt. At
the third pull she was over and standing, bare-footed, by his side. It
had been a fairy leap. He marvelled at the lightness of her till he saw
her standing so, with merry eyes upraised to his. Then he laughed, for
she was laughing--the infectious laugh of the truant.
"Oh, thank you ever so much," she said. "I knew it was much nicer this
side than the other.
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