,
kind of scared and trembly, but hangin' onto the tune, and the next
thing we knew they was all at it, givin' us "My Country 'Tis of Thee" in
as fine shape as you'd want to hear. We quit then, and listened. They
followed up with a couple of good old hymns and, if I hadn't been afloat
from my shoes up, I might have enjoyed the program. It was a good
exhibition of nerve, too. Most kids of that size would have gone up in
the air and howled blue murder. But they didn't even show white around
the gills.

Inside of ten minutes it was all over. The shower had moved off up into
Connecticut, where maybe it was wanted worse, and we got our heads
together to map out the next act. Sadie had the say. She was for takin'
the kids over to the swell yacht club there, and waitin' until the
nurses or some one else came to take 'em off our hands. That suited me;
but when it came to gettin' Captain Sir Hunter to march up front and set
the pace, he made a strong kick.

"Oh, by Jove, now!" says he, "I couldn't think of it. Why, I've been a
guest here, y'know, and I might meet some of the fellows."

"What luck!" says Sadie. "That'll be lovely if you do."

"You come along, Woodie," says I. "We've got our orders."

He might have been a stiff-lookin' Englishman before, but he was limp
enough now. He looked like a linen collar that had been through the wash
and hadn't reached the starch tub. His coat-tails was still drippin'
water, and when he walked it sounded like some one was moppin' up a
marble floor.

"Only fancy what they'll think!" he kept sayin' to himself as we got
under way.

"They'll take you for an anti-race-suicide club," says I; "so brace up."

We hadn't more'n struck the club-house porch, and the steward had rushed
out to drive us away, when Sadie gives another one of them squeals that
means she's sighted something good.

"Oh, there's the Dixie Girl!" says she.

"You must have 'em bad," says I. "I don't see any girl."

"The yacht!" says she, pointin' to the end of the dock. "That big white
one. It's Mrs. Brinley Cubbs' Dixie Girl. You wait here until I see if
she's aboard," and off she goes.

So we lined up in front to wait, the Incubators never takin' their eyes
off'n Woodie, and him as pink as a sportin' extra, and sayin' things
under his breath. Every time he took a hitch sideways the whole line
dressed. All hands from the club turned out to see the show, and the
rockin'-chair skippers made funny cracks at us.