"Come along." "All right!" cried one of his friends, sitting down on the edge of the bank, and lowering himself in gently, to stand for a few moments up to his arm-pits, and then duck his head down twice, rubbing his eyes to get the water out, and then stooping down and beginning to swim slowly and laboriously, and with a great deal of puffing.
"Oh, what a cowardly way of getting in!" said the third, who stood on the bank, hesitating.
"Well, let's see you, then," cried George Day, who was swimming close at hand.

"Jump in." "Oh, I can't jump in like you do," said the other; "it gives me the headache." "Why, you're afraid." "No, I'm not." "Yes, you are.

Come in, or I'll pull you down." "There!" The boy jumped in feet first, and as soon as he came up he struggled to the bank, and puffed and panted and squeezed the water out of his hair.
"Oh my, isn't it jolly cold!" he cried.

"It takes all my breath away." "Cold!" cried the others; "it's lovely.

Here you, Dennison, come in." "I can't swim," I said, feeling a curious shrinking on the one side, quite a temptation on the other.
"And you never will," cried George Day, "if you don't try.