In spite of the weight I had now to carry, for fear of going out to sea again, I ran away joyfully down the sands, as they call the gravel where the sand should be. At the ring of the steel-whistle which I carried round my neck, _Grip_ came bounding from the Inn to meet me, and with mutual confidence we began to poke about, for something to afford a hunt. Then I heard a voice holloaing out, "Hi, Tommy!" and with a long stride, quite like that of a man, Sir Roland Twentifold came down to me. "Why, I thought you had given us the slip," he shouted, for he always spoke as if he wanted every one to hear; "I came down with my pony on Saturday, but I could not see a sign of you. And I did not like to call at the Inn, because of your mother's bad health, you know. And on Sundays, my mother won't let me go far; because she is religious, and so am I. There are so few fellows who care for that now, that I stick up for it, and mean to do so. I won't have everything turned upside down." "Take care that my _Grip_ doesn't roll you over," I exclaimed, for the dog had no muzzle on; "I can't always hold him, when he takes a dislike." "_Grip_, come here," he said, "and talk to me. I have got a dozen dogs, who could eat you, _Grip_. But if you are good, they shall be good to you." I could not help laughing at this idea, for _Grip_ could thrash any three dogs I knew. But to my astonishment, _Grip_ came up, and wagged his tail softly to Sir Roland, and sniffed about him pleasantly, and then offered his grisly ears for a loving rub. "Don't be nervous, doggy," went on Sir Roland, as if he were talking to an Italian greyhound; "you smell rather doggy; but I don't mind that. If your master goes for a fly every day, and you swim after him, you'll soon be cured." "Only fancy," I said, as I pulled his tail, that he might not take up with a stranger so; "he had never seen the sea before, any more than I had; but the moment he knew I was in your boat, in he dashed, to come and look after me. And he is not at all a water-dog, as you must know, having such a lot of dogs of your own. He swallowed such a lot of salt water, that he could only gurgle, instead of growling, when the sailors petted him; and I do believe if you had not managed to get hold of his collar, with that long stick, he would have been a drowned dog, the same as I have seen twenty of together, when the wind blows down the reservoir of the Water-company. Oh, how sad it must be, for their Master and Mistress. If _Grip_ was to die, I never should get over it." "What a soft you are! Why, you are crying now, with _Grip_ all alive to lick your face! Such a chap, as you, would never do at Harrow. We should call you 'Fanny,' instead of Tommy Upmore. Now, don't be offended. You can't expect to be anything but a muff, after going to a private school, you know."