'It's the heat,' he declared, finally. 'That and the worry of
rehearsals. I expect a doctor could give the technical name for it.
It's a what-do-you-call-it--an obsession. You often hear of cases.
Fellows who are absolutely sane really, but cracked on one particular
subject. Some of them think they're teapots and things. You've got a
craving for being rescued from drowning. What happens, old man? Do you
suddenly get the delusion that you can't swim? No, it can't be that,
because you were doing all the swimming for the two of us just now. I
don't know, though. Maybe you didn't realize that you were swimming?'

George finished lacing his shoe and looked up.

'Listen,' he said; 'I'll talk slow, so that you can understand. Suppose
you fell off a pier, and a girl took a great deal of trouble to get you
to the shore, would you say, "Much obliged, but you needn't have been
so officious. I can swim perfectly well?"'

Mr Mifflin considered this point. Intelligence began to dawn in his
face. 'There is more in this than meets the eye,' he said. 'Tell me
all.'

'This morning'--George's voice grew dreamy--'she gave me a
swimming-lesson. She thought it was my first. Don't cackle like that.
There's nothing to laugh at.'

Mr Mifflin contradicted this assertion.

'There is you,' he said, simply. 'This should be a lesson to you,
George. Avoid deceit. In future be simple and straightforward. Take me