“You’re an awful little ass, Tommy,” said Bob finally, suppressing a smile. “Where have you been?” “Wait a bit,” Nelson interrupted. “Here’s my oilskin, Tommy. Take off your coat and trousers and slip this on. You’ll get dry a heap quicker.” Tom followed instructions and then, with his back to the fire, which Nelson replenished with the remains of the soap box, and his hands in the pockets of the oilskin coat, he explained. “I’ll tell you the story of my wanderings,” began Tom. “When I woke up on the beach—Say, where’s Dan?” he interrupted himself to ask wonderingly. Nelson told him of that youth’s sudden resolution and departure and Tom continued. “Well, I suppose it was Dan that thought up that joke on me. It was awfully smart—I don’t think!” “I was afraid you wouldn’t appreciate it,” said Bob regretfully. “You wait till I get him!” threatened Tom. “Well, when I woke up the launch was gone and the fog was so thick I could kick holes in it. I thought you fellows had gone around the point and so I started after you. But I got into the woods and lost my way; fooled around there pretty near half an hour, I guess. Finally I found my way out and trailed across a turnip patch, or cauliflower grove, or something, and came to a golf course. I had a lovely time there. Strolled all over it, I guess, and saw all the sights—which weren’t very many, after all, on account of the fog. And I got very soppy and beastly hungry. If I’d met a caddy it would have been all up with him then and there; I’d have picked his little bones quite clean. But I didn’t meet a soul—except the flag at the fourteenth hole, and that was made of tin and couldn’t be eaten. After a while, I don’t know how long, I heard music. Thought first I’d died and got to heaven; but I hadn’t. I’d only got to the Seamont Inn.” “What’s that?” asked Nelson. “Shut up and I’ll tell you. It’s a dandy big old summer hotel with about three hundred swells stopping at it. And palms and orchestra chaps in red pyjamas and all sorts of frills. Well, I butted in out of the fog with my blanket nicely folded over my arm and my feet wringing wet and no cap nor anything and strolled up to the desk. All the old gentlemen around the fireplace were staring at me just as though I was President Roosevelt.” “I can fancy the resemblance,” said Bob dryly. “Well, I asked as big as life for the manager and they sent for him. He was a nice-looking young chap and I told him who I was and all about it. He seemed to think it awfully funny and asked me into his private office and made me tell him all over again about it. Then he wanted to know what I was after. I told him I was after something to eat, principally. So he sent me down to what they called the ‘ordinary,’ which is a young dining room where the nurses and kids eat, and pretty soon I was wallowing in coffee and rolls and beefsteak and Spanish omelet and——” “Oh, hush!” begged Nelson.