Three or four times the young ladies had tried the sea-bathing near the McPherson bath-house, but the surf was so heavy and the undertow so strong that they never ventured far out unless Tom or Rex were near them. One day, however, Irene, who was somewhat daring and liked to show her skill, went out so far that the strong out-going tide took her with it beyond her depth and was carrying her further and further away when Rex, who was near to her, heard her cry, “O Rex, save me!” and struck out swiftly for her. Exhausted and overcome with fright, she had sunk once before he reached her, but just as she was going down a second time he caught at the mop of hair and holding fast to it swam quickly to the shore where Tom and Rena, who had not been in the water, received her and took her to the bath-house. Returning to the beach Tom saw Reginald holding in his hand a thick braid of blonde hair at which he was looking curiously and turning it over as if greatly perplexed. “Tom!” he gasped, “see what I have done, and she never gave a cry, although it must have hurt her fearfully. I don’t quite understand it.” “Rex, are you an idiot, that you know nothing of false hair and girl’s toilets?” Tom said, as he took the braid and held it dripping with water before Rex, who gasped: “You don’t mean it wasn’t growing there?” “I don’t mean anything else,” Tom answered. “Do you suppose any girl could stand having her scalp pulled off and make no protest? You certainly are a fool!” “Yes, I am; but how should I know?” Rex said, “I, who have no sisters nor mother nor near female relation, and have scarcely been near a girl until this summer. Do they all—does the little one wear false hair?” “No, sir!” Tom answered promptly. “Many girls do wear it, though. There is no harm in it that I see. No girl has as much hair of her own as Irene wears. You might know that with half an eye; but come on and change your wet clothes, and not stand there staring at this hair as if it were a live thing.” “Yes,” Rex stammered, “but what shall we do with it?” “Do with it?” Tom repeated. “Give it to Irene, of course. It is valuable. False braids like this cost money.” “But,” Rex began again. “Will she like to know that—that we know it? Won’t it mortify her? Hadn’t we better throw it into the sea and say nothing? That will save her feelings. She’ll think she lost it there.” “Rex, you are a gentleman, if you don’t know anything! I should never have thought of sparing Irene that way,” Tom said, tossing the hair far out to meet an incoming wave which when it receded carried with it Irene’s heaviest and most expensive braid which had given way under Rex’s firm grasp.