"Well--not above ten minutes, I should say," was Lubin's answer. "I'd
like a dip myself more'n a little, but I'm not quite sure if I ought
to--you see the mistress wants all this finished up by the afternoon,
and then----"

"But you must!" insisted Austin. "You forget that I've only got one
leg, so I can't swim as I used, and you've got to come and take care I
don't get drowned. 'O weep for Adonais--he is dead!' How angry Aunt
Charlotte would be. And then she'd cry, poor dear, and go into hideous
mourning for her poor Austin. Come along, Lubin--but wait, I must just
go and get a couple of towels. Oh, I'm simply mad for the water. I'll
be back in less than a flash."

Lubin drove his spade into the earth, turned down his sleeves, and
rested--a fair-skinned, bronzed, wholesome object, good to look
at--while Austin stumped away. In less than five minutes the two
youths started off together, tramping through the long, lush
meadow-grass which lay between the end of the garden and the river.
The sun burned fiercely overhead, and the air quivered in the heat.

"Isn't it wonderful!" cried Austin, when they reached the edge of the
water, and were standing under the shade of some trees that overhung
the towing-path. "Come, Lubin, strip--I'm half undressed already. Look
at the white and purple lights in the water--aren't they marvellous?
Now we're going right down into them. Oh the freedom of air, and
colour, and body--how I do _hate_ clothes! I say, how funny my stump
looks, doesn't it? Just like a great white rolling-pin. You must go in
first, Lubin, and then you'll be prepared to catch me when I begin
drowning."