"But, sir! Your concert to-night! I play for you!"

"You go to the devil," said Jimmie. "You'll not put your foot on board
this boat again. Off you go! Take him down to Henley!" he ordered the
boatman.

"Very well! Very well!" said the German, "I go, but I do not take my hat
off to your flag."

"Ah! Don't you?" cried the Princeton man, making a grab for the German's
sailor hat with his long arm, just as the boat shot away. He stooped and
took it up full of Thames water and flung it thus loaded squarely in the
little wretch's face, while the man at the oars dexterously tossed it
overboard, where it floated bottom upwards in the river, and the boat
shot out toward Henley with the bareheaded and most excited specimen of
the human race it was ever our lot to behold.

Then Jimmie introduced his friends. Bee has just looked over this
narrative of the pleasantest week we ever spent in England and she says:

"You haven't said a word about the races."

"So I haven't."

But they were there.