"Hello!" he cried, "the tide's down and I got ashore without any
trouble. You stay where you are. I've hired a couple of mules to
tow the boat back. They'll be here when the tide rises. And,
hello! I've found the gang-plank. It floated ashore about a
quarter of a mile below here."

In the course of the afternoon the mules and two men with a long
rope appeared, and we were then towed back to where we belonged.

And we are there yet. Our boarder remains with us, as the weather
is still fine, and the coolness between us is gradually
diminishing. But the boat is moored at both ends, and twice a day
I look to see if the ropes are all right.

The petunias are growing beautifully, but the geraniums do not seem
to flourish. Perhaps there is not a sufficient depth of earth for
them. Several times our boarder has appeared to be on the point of
suggesting something in regard to them, but, for some reason or
other, he says nothing.



CHAPTER III.

TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF GIRL.


One afternoon, as I was hurrying down Broadway to catch the five
o'clock train, I met Waterford. He is an old friend of mine, and I
used to like him pretty well.