der that ye've
behaved in a manner that can only be described as abominable, and I
will thank you to leave me alone."

"But allow me--"

"I will not allow ye, sir. I will allow ye nothing. Is it not enough to
make me the laughing-stock, the butt, sir, of this town, without
pursuing me in this way when I wish to enjoy a quiet swim?"

"Now, laddie, laddie," said Ukridge, placing a large hand on his
shoulder, "these are harsh words! Be reasonable! Think before you
speak. You little know ..."

"Go to the devil!" said the professor. "I wish to have nothing to do
with either of you. I should be glad if you would cease this
persecution. Persecution, sir!"

His remarks, which I have placed on paper as if they were continuous
and uninterrupted, were punctuated in reality by a series of gasps and
puffings, as he received and rejected the successors of the wave he had
swallowed at the beginning of our little chat. The art of conducting
conversation while in the water is not given to every swimmer. This he
seemed to realise, for, as if to close the interview, he proceeded to
make his way as quickly as he could to the shore. Unfortunately, his
first dash brought him squarely up against Ukridge, who, not having
expected the collision, clutched wildly at him and took him below the
surface again. They came up a moment later on the worst terms.

"Are you trying to drown me, sir?" barked the professor.

"My dear old horse," said Ukridge complainingly, "it's a little hard.
You might look where you're going."

"You grappled with me!"

"You took me by surprise, laddie. Rid yourself of the impression that
you're playing water-polo."

"But, professor," I said, joining the group and treading water, "one
moment."

I was growing annoyed with the man. I could have ducked him, but for
the reflection that my prospects of obtaining his consent to my
engagement would scarcely have been enhanced thereby.

"But, professor," I said, "one moment."

"Go away, sir! I have nothing to say to you."

"But he has lots to say to you," said Ukridge. "Now's the time, old
horse," he added encouragingly to me. "Spill the news!"

Without preamble I gave out the text of my address.

"I love your daughter, Phyllis, Mr. Derrick. She loves me. In fact, we
are engaged."

"Devilish well put, laddie," said Ukridge approvingly.

The professor went under as if he had been seized with cramp. It was a
little trying having to argue with a man, of whom one