"Not at all," I replied, "in the olden days it was quite customary for young gentlemen and elderly stout ones like yourself, for instance, to drop in at the best caves with very much less on than I have without any one considering their conduct in any degree irregular. In fact, the ladies of this time were no better themselves, it being deemed highly proper for them to appear in some small bit of stuff and nobody thought the worst of it at all. Take the early days of the fifteenth century B.C.--" At this point in my eloquent address a young child, who had hitherto escaped my attention, took it upon herself to swing on the line with the result that it parted with a snap and my last vestige of protection came fluttering to the roof. For one tense moment I stood gazing into the dilated eyes of those before me. Then with surprising presence of mind, I sprang to a ladder that led to the water tank, swarmed up it with the agility of a cat and lowered myself with a gasp of despair into the cold, cold water of the tank. From this place of security I gazed down on the man who had been responsible for my unfortunate plight. I felt myself sinned against, and the longer I remained in that water, up to my neck, the more I felt my wrongs. I gave voice to them. I said bitter, abusive things to the man. "Clear the quarter deck," I shouted, "get aft, or, by gad, I'll come fluttering down there on your flat, bald head like a blooming flood. Vamoos, hombre, pronto--plenty quick and take your brood with you." Then I said some more things as my father before me had said them, and the man withdrew with his women. "He's a sailor," he said as he did so. "Hurry, my dears, this is worse than nakedness." I emerged and sat in a borrowed bathrobe the rest of the evening. The next morning my clothes were still damp. Now, that's what I call a stupid way to spend a Saturday night on liberty. The fat people enjoyed it.