“Oh, Arthur!” said Miss Smith. “How could you be so wicked! I never dreamt you’d go and do such a thing—never! I didn’t think you’d got it in you.” Mr. Heard grinned sheepishly. “I told you I would,” he muttered. “Don’t stand talking here,” said Mrs. Smith, gazing at the puddle which was growing in the centre of the carpet; “they’ll catch cold. Take ’em upstairs and give ’em some dry clothes. And I’ll bring some hot whisky and water up to ’em.” “Rum is best,” said Mr. Smith, herding his charges and driving them up the small staircase. “Send young Joe for some. Send up three glasses.” They disappeared upstairs, and Joe appearing at that moment from the kitchen, was hastily sent off to the “Blue Jay” for the rum. A couple of curious neighbors helped him to carry it back, and, standing modestly just inside the door, ventured on a few skilled directions as to its preparation. After which, with an eye on Miss Smith, they stood and conversed, mostly in head-shakes. Stimulated by the rum and the energetic Mr. Smith, the men were not long in changing. Preceded by their host, they came down to the sitting-room again; Mr. Heard with as desperate and unrepentant an air as he could assume, and Mr. Dix trying to conceal his uneasiness by taking great interest in a suit of clothes three sizes too large for him. “They was both as near drownded as could be,” said Mr. Smith, looking round; “he ses Arthur fought like a madman to prevent ’imself from being saved.” “It was nothing, really,” said the mate, in an almost inaudible voice, as he met Miss Smith’s admiring gaze. “Listen to ’im,” said the delighted Mr. Smith; “all brave men are like that. That’s wot’s made us Englishmen wot we are.” “I don’t suppose he knew who it was he was saving,” said a voice from the door. “I didn’t want to be saved,” said Mr. Heard, defiantly. “Well, you can easy do it again, Arthur,” said the same voice; “the dock won’t run away.” Mr. Heard started and eyed the speaker with same malevolence. “Tell us all about it,” said Miss Smith, gazing at the mate, with her hands clasped. “Did you see him jump in?” Mr. Dix shook his head and looked at Mr. Heard for guidance. “N—not exactly,” he stammered; “I was just taking a stroll round the harbor before turning in, when all of a sudden I heard a cry for help—” “No you didn’t,” broke in Mr. Heard, fiercely. “Well, it sounded like it,” said the mate, somewhat taken aback. “I don’t care what it sounded like,” said the other. “I didn’t say it. It was the last thing I should ’ave called out. I didn’t want to be saved.” “P’r’aps he cried ‘Emma,’” said the voice from the door. “Might ha’ been that,” admitted the mate. “Well, when I heard it I ran to the edge and looked down at the water, and at first I couldn’t see anything. Then I saw what I took to be a dog, but, knowing that dogs can’t cry ‘help!’—” “Emma,” corrected Mr. Heard.