I had visions of two excited females lambasting me with umbrellas
and demanding their property back.

Completely at a loss I sank into a chair, feeling as bright and
chipper as a poached egg.

I felt that I belonged just about as much as a knothole does in a
barb-wire fence.

In that few minutes Bunch was more than revenged.

I was on the pickle boat for sure.

Sailing! sailing! over the griddle, me!

Scientists tell us that when a man is drowning every detail of his
lifetime passes before him in the fraction of a second.

Well, that moving picture gag was worked on me, without the aid of
a bathing suit.

When I awoke, Clara J. was saying, "Possibly it would look better
if I went with you. Wait just a moment, till I get this apron
off--there! come along!"

I arose, and with delightful unanimity the chair arose also,
clinging like a passionate porusplaster to my pantaloons.

"Mercy'" exclaimed Clara J., "that little villain, Tacks, has been