"It would be easier for a good swimmer to carry a person for a mile in the water than on the land," said Applebo. "The water takes most of the weight. Besides, one could never tire in performing a service for so charming a girl as your daughter." Bell looked startled. "H'm ... huh..." he began, but Cécile interrupted. "If you find a service of that kind so stimulating, I should think that you would lend yourself oftener to it." There was the least touch of sharpness in her tone. Applebo eyed her inquiringly. "I do," said he, "but in spirit rather than in body. Thus, following you" ... there was the faintest emphasis on the "you" ... "about all summer has been a sentimental though unasked service. All services should be unasked; otherwise they are obligations. It has been a service ... and I have never tired of it." Bell's jaw slightly dropped. Cécile's glance was very intense. Applebo blinked. "Huh..." said Bell. "It seems to me that the service was on our part, seein' that we were doing your thinkin' for you." "The leader must always do the thinking for the one who follows," murmured the poet. "The stray dog who attaches himself to your heels follows blindly where you lead because of his unasked and often undesired devotion. The pilot-fish does not dictate his course to the shark." Bell looked confused, then turned a slightly richer shade of pink. The idea was slowly permeating his intelligence that Applebo was chaffing them, and that so subtly that one hardly knew how to reply. The same idea had entered the head of Cécile. To this pampered beauty the idea that a young man should deliberately amuse himself at her expense was maddening. Cécile had plenty of fight in her and she was active-minded as well, and she did not propose to be set dancing on a string like a marionette for the pleasure of this sleepy-eyed enigma. "After all," said she, "one might consider that we were quits. You furnish us with some idle amusement which otherwise we might lack while we furnish you with some of our mind, which otherwise you might lack." "Precisely," drawled the poet; "a fair exchange." Bell cackled outright. The colour flared into the face of Cécile. Applebo blinked. Captain Bell came to the rescue of his daughter. "Aboard the _Shark_," said he, "you are a sort of benefactor. You instil our monotonous lives with a great excitement. All hands make bets on how long after us you will arrive in port." "In that case," said Applebo, in a tone of dreamy regret, "I must sometimes have thoughtlessly spoiled the game by carelessly permitting myself to arrive before you. Hereafter, I will not follow you out so soon." Bell's face grew rather purple. While obliged to admit the dull sailing qualities of the _Shark_, he had never particularly relished comment on the topic, but to have it so "rubbed in" by a little sixty-foot sword-fisher was infuriating.