ing his shoulder an angry shake. "Don't
know! _Why_ don't you know?"

"I--uh--uh--ain't been in the wu-wu-water yet!"

A crimson flush spread over Mrs. Westfall's scowling visage as she
cried, "Oh! You haven't, eh! You haven't!"

She seized him by one of his unornamented ears and marched him down the
aisle towards the front door, where she relieved him of the shawl and
pointing a trembling finger at the door almost screamed: "Get out of
that door!... Go down to that swimming-hole just as fast as your legs
will carry you, and don't you come back till you've _found out_ whether
you can swim or not!"

And while the question of taking a correspondence course in
_Philanthropy--the Science of Giving_ was being gently but everlastingly
laid on the table, Biscuit was retracing his steps to the swimming-hole
with less precipitation and much more modesty than he had left it. More
than once he longed for the cartoonist's favorite barrel as he dodged
from tree to tree to escape the prying gaze of an inconsiderate public.

Fate dealt him a cruel blow when he sought to avoid meeting two old
ladies by slipping behind a clump of lilac bushes in Rude's front yard;
for from underneath the very bushes themselves came the shocked
observation of the voice he loved best in all the world:

"I don't know _what_ game you think you're playin', Karl Westfall, but
it's not a very nice game! I think you're horrid anyway--!"

But Biscuit did not tarry to hear more. He fled. Nor did he stop again
until he had reached the swimming-hole, which he did shortly after
Sube's return from his unsuccessful pursuit. Sube had just finished
telling how he had burst into the church--and burst out again without
being observed, when the sound of footsteps was heard on the path.

"Hark! There's somebody after us already! We'll get--"

Then Biscuit came into view.

As one they flew to welcome him.

"Good for you, old kid! How'd you get away from all those old hens? Come
'ere, let's see if I can't wipe off some of that ol' paint with my
undershirt--"

It took the underwear of the entire party to make Biscuit presentable,
and meanwhile he had given an account of the proceedings at the church.

"She never noticed the paint at all!" he declared. "She jus' asked me if
I could swim, and when I said I didn't know, she sent me back to find
out."

"You'll find out all right!" came a gruff voice from behind him.

Turning around, Biscuit beheld Seth Bissett, t