“Why, there’s no satisfying you,” he said, slowly. “If I do go in I can see that you won’t own up that you’ve been lying.” “He’ll ’ave to,” said Mr. Smith, who, having made up his mind for a little excitement, was in no mind to lose it. “I don’t believe he would,” said the mate. “Look here!” he said, suddenly, as he laid an affectionate arm on the old man’s shoulder. “I know what we’ll do.” “Well?” said Mr. Smith. “I’ll save _you_,” said the mate, with a smile of great relief. “Save _me_?” said the puzzled Mr. Smith, as his daughter uttered a faint cry. “How?” “Just as I saved him,” said the other, nodding. “You jump in, and after you’ve sunk twice—same as he did—I’ll dive in and save you. At any rate I’ll do my best; I promise you I won’t come ashore without you.” Mr. Smith hastily flung off the encircling arm and retired a few paces inland. “’Ave you—ever been—in a lunatic asylum at any time?” he inquired, as soon as he could speak. “No,” said the mate, gravely. “Neither ’ave I,” said Mr. Smith; “and, what’s more, I’m not going.” He took a deep breath and stood simmering. Miss Smith came forward and, with a smothered giggle, took the mate’s arm and squeezed it. “It’ll have to be Arthur again, then,” said the latter, in a resigned voice. “_Me_?” cried Mr. Heard, with a start. “Yes, you!” said the mate, in a decided voice. “After what you said just now I’m not going in without saving somebody. It would be no good. Come on, in you go.” “He couldn’t speak fairer than that, Arthur,” said Mr. Smith, dispassionately, as he came forward again. “But I tell you he can’t swim,” protested Mr. Heard, “not properly. He didn’t swim last time; I told you so.” “Never mind; we know what you said,” retorted the mate. “All you’ve got to do is to jump in and I’ll follow and save you—same as I did the other night.” “Go on, Arthur,” said Mr. Smith, encouragingly. “It ain’t cold.” “I tell you he can’t swim,” repeated Mr. Heard, passionately. “I should be drownded before your eyes.” [Illustration: “‘I tell you he can’t swim,’ repeated Mr. Heard, passionately.”] “Rubbish,” said Mr. Smith. “Why, I believe you’re afraid.” “I should be drownded, I tell you,” said Mr. Heard. “He wouldn’t come in after me.” “Yes, he would,” said Mr. Smith, passing a muscular arm round the mate’s waist; “’cos the moment you’re overboard I’ll drop ’im in. Are you ready?” He stood embracing the mate and waiting, but Mr. Heard, with an infuriated exclamation, walked away. A parting glance showed him that the old man had released the mate, and that the latter was now embracing Miss Smith. IN THE FAMILY [Illustration] IN THE FAMILY The oldest inhabitant of Claybury sat beneath the sign of the “Cauliflower” and gazed with affectionate, but dim, old eyes in the direction of the village street.