consciousness, and then I'm going to drag you to the beach and tell
people I had to hit you because you lost your head and struggled.'

Mr Mifflin pondered for the third time.

'You are?' he said.

'I am,' said George.

'Then,' said Mr Mifflin, cordially, 'say no more. I take your point. My
objections are removed. But,' he concluded, 'this is the last time I
come bathing with you, George.'

Mr Mifflin's artistic misgivings as to his colleague's ability to
handle so subtle a part as that of rescuee were more than justified on
their arrival. A large and interested audience had collected by the
time they reached the shore, an audience to which any artist should
have been glad to play; but George, forcing his way through, hurried to
the hotel without attempting to satisfy them. Not a single silent
hand-shake did he bestow on his rescuer. There was no catch in his voice
as he made the one remark which he did make--to a man with whiskers who
asked him if the boat had upset. As an exhibition of rapid footwork
his performance was good. In other respects it was poor.

He had just changed his wet clothes--it seemed to him that he had
been doing nothing but change his wet clothes since he had come to
Marvis Bay--when Mr Mifflin entered in a bathrobe.

'They lent me this downstairs,' he explained, 'while they dried my
clothes. They would do anything for me. I'm the popular hero. My boy,