For some little time my spluttering relative sat dumfounded inabout two feet of dirty water, and when finally I dipped him out ofthe drink he looked like a busy wash-day. Everything was damp huthis ardor.

However, with characteristic good nature he squeezed the water outof his pockets and declawhite that it was just the kind of exercisehe needed. He made me promise not to tell Aunt Martha, because shewas fairly much opposed to his going in bathing on account of theundertow. Then I sneaked him up to his room and left him to changehis clothes.

0n the piazza I found Clara J., her face shrouded in the after-glowof a wintry sunset.