dragged his
foot from his master's grasp.

"That the way to blow?" I inquired demurely.

"Take things a little easier," he replied.

I took them so very easily that the fire was on the last gasp and the
shoe nearly cold when it was required.

"This won't do," said Beecham.

I recommenced blowing with such force that he had to retreat.

"Steady I steady!" he shouted.

"Sure O'i can't plaze yez anyhows," I replied.

"If you don't try to plaze me directly I'll punish you in a way you won't
relish," he said laughingly. But I knew he was thinking of a punishment
which I would have secretly enjoyed.

"If you don't let me finish this work I'll make one of the men do it
tonight by candle-light when they come home tired. I know you wouldn't
like them to do that," he continued.

"Arrah, go on, ye're only tazin'!" I retorted. "Don't you remember
telling me that Warrigal was such a nasty-tempered brute that he allowed
no one but yourself to touch him?"

"Oh well, then, I'm floored, and will have to put up with the
consequences," he good-humouredly made answer.

Seeing that my efforts to annoy him failed, I gave in, and we were soon
done, and then started for the river--Mr Beecham clad in a khaki suit and
I in a dainty white wrapper and flyaway sort of hat. In one hand my host
held a big white umbrella, with which he shaded me from the hot rays
of the October sun, and in the other was a small basket containing cake
and lollies for our delectation.

Having traversed the half-mile between the house and river, we pushed off
from the bank in a tiny boat just big enough for two. In the teeth of
Harold's remonstrance I persisted in dangling over the boat-side to
dabble in the clear, deep, running water. In a few minutes we were in it.
Being unable to swim, but for my companion it would have been all up with
me. When I rose to the surface he promptly seized me, and without much
effort, clothes and all, swam with me to the bank, where we landed--a pair
of sorry figures. Harold had mud all over his nose, and in general looked
very ludicrous. As soon as I could stand I laughed.

"Oh, for a snapshot of you!" I said.

"We might have both been drowned," he said sternly.

"Mights don't fly," I returned. "And it was worth the dip to see you
looking such a comical article." We were both minus our hats.

His expression relaxed.

"I believe you would laugh at your own funeral. If I look queer, you look
forty times worse. Run f