friend had been drinking.

"Stumbling," said Mr. Turnbull, conquering his annoyance with an effort
"stumbling is a thing that might happen to anybody. You trip your foot
against a stone and lurch up against Daly; he tumbles overboard, and you
off with your jacket and dive in off the quay after him. He can't swim a
stroke."

Mr. Blundell caught his breath and gazed at him in speechless amaze.

"There's sure to be several people on the quay if it's a fine afternoon,"
continued his instructor. "You'll have half Dunchurch round you,
praising you and patting you on the back--all in front of Venia, mind
you. It'll be put in all the papers and you'll get a medal."

"And suppose we are both drowned?" said Mr. Blundell, soberly.

"Drowned? Fiddlesticks !" said Mr. Turnbull. "However, please
yourself. If you're afraid----"

"I'll do it," said Blundell, decidedly.

"And mind," said the other, "don't do it as if it's as easy as kissing
your fingers; be half-drowned yourself, or at least pretend to be. And
when you're on the quay take your time about coming round. Be longer
than Daly is; you don't want him to get all the pity."

"All right," said the other.

"After a time you can open your eyes," went on his instructor; "then, if