Rocks for some gasolene."

"Oh! Roarin' Rocks?" says I.

"Yes," says he. "Where's that fool float tender?"

"Just gone into the clubhouse," says I. "Maybe I could keep her from
bumpin' while you're gone."

"By Jove! would you?" says he, handin' over a boathook.

Even then I wasn't layin' any scheme. I helps when they puts the gas
in, and makes myself generally useful. Also I'm polite and respectful,
which seems to make a hit with him.

"Deuced bother," says he, "not having any man. I had a picnic planned
for today too."

"That so?" says I. "Well, I'm no marine engineer, but I'm just killin'
time around here, and if I could help any way----"

"Oh, I say, but that's jolly of you," says he, "I wonder if you would,
for a day or so? My name's Hollister, Payne Hollister."

He wasn't Payne to me. He was Joy. Easy? Why, he fairly pushes me
into it! Digs a white jumper out of a locker for me, and a little
round canvas hat with "Vixen" on the front, and trots back uptown to
buy me a swell pair of rubber-soled deck shoes. Business of quick
change for yours truly. Then look! Say, here I am, just about the
yachtiest thing in sight, leanin' back on the steerin' seat cushions of