"Henry," pleaded the widow. "If you love me—" "Trust me," said Henry soothingly, hiding a gleam of satisfaction in his mild blue eyes. "I will have the boat stopped." The widow’s daughter and chaperon appeared in the companionway, flushed and sleepy. "Mama, what _is_ the matter?" "Caroline, my precious lamb," and the widow motioned dramatically seaward. "Henry, you said—" "I will," said Henry. "I will have the boat stopped." "I will do that," cried the widow. "You jump overboard and save him." Caroline yawned and raised her soft white hands to her tumbled hair. "Do save him, Bertie, I’m not equal to the task of comforting mama, just now." Bertie looked at his immaculate yachting clothes and hesitated. "Ah, you do not love me," cried the widow. "Oh, my baby, my own." "I love you so," said Bertie solemnly, "I refuse to leave you in your grief even for a moment." A long white arm shot over the crest of a tumbled wave and was followed by a man’s head and long, thin body. The man swam well and quickly and was making straight for the now swimming dog. "A rescue, a rescue," cried Henry, and added softly to himself, "Oh, poppycock!" *CHAPTER XXV* *AS HE SAID HE WOULD* The widow leaned far over the side. "Oh," said she, "the man is naked." "As truth," agreed Bertie. "You might retire, you know." "I won’t look," promised the widow, turning her back and peering over her shoulder. "But is he near my lamb now? Will he, can he save him?" "Unfortunately, yes, mama," said Caroline. Bertie and Henry leaned over the rail and watched the rescue, the long, easy strokes of the swimmer and the amusement on his face as a wave carried the struggling dog within reach and he grabbed the little woolly back. "Saved!" cried Bertie, and turned just in time to grab Mrs. Armitage, who was also turning to see over the rail, by her fat shoulders and whirl her around again. "Safe, dear lady, but look the other way. Our hero is clothed in the seafoam and his own nobility, nothing else." Henry was already disappearing down the companionway, the yacht was stopping and the crew standing by on the lower deck to lend assistance to rescued and rescuer. The evening was warm and sultry. What little breeze there had been during the day had gone down with the sun, while the ocean heaved and moaned in long, green swells and ran softly whispering up the beach and splashed against the rocks with hardly a flake of foam. The sun, sinking behind the hills, cast long orange and pink streaks across the waves, and turned the small white clouds overhead a dainty, rosy mass of drifting color.