Cousin Phoemie," says she, "I really don't know whether you are a
real genius or the greatest goose that ever lived. You are just a puzzle
to me. Who ever heard of yellow-fever in the water?"

"I have," says I, "in the harbor, and isn't the harbor all water?"

"Yes," says she, "that is true."

"Then, isn't it dangerous to bathe in that water, and don't that flag
give us warning not to do it?"

"Cousin," says she; "as I said before, you know too much for common
ideas to make an impression. Now do try to understand. There is one ship
in the harbor that has yellow-fever on board--that is all. It will not
be allowed to spread from that one ship."

"Oh," says I, drawing a deep breath, "then it has not poisoned the
water."

"Not at all."

"But the yellow flag?"

"That means good bathing, and plenty of it. Come along. Don't you see
people crowding down to the shore?"

CHAPTER XCI.

THE MAN THAT SAVED ME.

I ran into my room, and came out with a bundle in one hand and a coarse
straw hat in the other. That group of gentlemen was just dropping down
the bank out of sight, and after them went a crowd of girls, with their
parasols flaming in the sun like a bed of poppies.

"Come," says I, all joyful animation, "I am dying to begin."

E. E. spread her parasol, and off we marched.

We came to the steep bank, and went down a flight of wooden stairs to
the sandy shore. Right under the bank was a long row of cubby-houses,
made of boards.

"This is ours," says E. E., "come in."

I went in. Sisters, what happened in the privacy of that board
sanctuary, is not for the public--let this satisfy the curious.

Two ladies went into that little retreat, with bunched-up skirts,
beehive bonnets, and a general assortment of dry-goods, such as weighs
down the ladies of the present generation to an extent that approaches
martyrdom.

Two persons came out skimped down into nothingness. They had grown tall
and slim, not to say spooky. There was a deficiency of glossy ringlets
under the two hats that squared off in front and behind, and were
flapped down over each ear.

E. E.'s plumptitudinous figure was mostly lost and gone, and I--well, I
felt like a church steeple on a very high hill. I say nothing, the
subject being one of great delicacy; but from my experience in those
Turkish--well, pantalettes--the female that begrudges her husband that
class of garments, must hanker after change more than I do. When I came
out