Just then our attention was attracted by a voice from the shore.

"Will you please let down the gang-plank?" We looked ashore, and
there stood Pomona, dripping from every pore.

We spoke no words, but lowered the gangplank.

She came aboard.

"Good night!" said the boarder, and he went to bed.

"Pomona!" said I, "what have you been doing?"

"I was a lookin' at the moon, sir, when pop! the chair bounced, and
out I went."

"You shouldn't do that," I said, sternly.

"Some day you'll be drowned. Take off your wet things and go to
bed."

"Yes, sma'am--sir, I mean," said she, as she went down-stairs.

When I reached my room I lighted the lamp, and found Euphemia still
under the bed.

"Is it all right?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered. "There was no burglar. Pomona fell out of the
window."