our hero simply. "It wasn't so much to do."

All dripping as he was, Joe caught up the oars of the boat and sent the
craft in the direction of the hotel at a good speed. That she might not
take cold, a shawl was thrown over Mabel's wet shoulders.

The arrival of the party at the hotel caused a mild sensation. Mabel
hurried to her room to put on dry clothing, and Joe was directed to go
around to the kitchen. But when the proprietor of the place had heard
what Joe had done for his niece he sent the lad to a private apartment
and provided him with dry clothing belonging to another who was of our
hero's size.

"That was a fine thing to do, young man," said the hotel proprietor,
when Joe appeared, dressed in the dry garments, and his own clothing had
been sent to the laundry to be dried and pressed.

"I'm glad I was there to do it, Mr. Mallison."

"Let me see, aren't you Hiram Bodley's boy?"

"I lived with Mr. Bodley, yes."

"That is what I mean. It was a terrible accident that killed him. Are
you still living at the tumbled-down cabin?"

"No, sir. I've just sold off the things, and I am going to settle in
town."

"Where?"