r a kind of sacrament. She drew from it the
deep and tranquil exaltation that she supposed Elsie Haggard drew from
Communion.

Fifty yards out to sea she turned and trod water.

Billy Bluff, the old ass, was fussing about on the edge of the tide,
barking at her.

"William!" called the head on the water. "Come on!"

Billy fiddled and flirted and could not bring himself to make the
plunge.

Boy watched him with amused resentment. It was his domesticity which was
his undoing. Old Man Badger on the hillside would never have dillied or
dallied like that.

"Come on!" she ordered deeply. "Or I'll come and lug you in."

Billy marked the imperious note in his young mistress's voice. He ran
this way and that, excused himself, pranced, whined, whimpered, yapped,
barked, tasted the water and didn't like it, tried a dip, and withdrew,
and finally made the effort and shoved off.

He swam rather low. His long, black back lay along the shining surface,
his hair floating like seaweed on either side of him, while he left a
little eddying wake behind him, as he pushed swiftly toward the girl.

As he came nearer she splashed him and he barked joyfully. He made for
her, to paw and sprawl upon her. She evaded him.

Awhile girl and dog sported together in the deep, happy and laughing as
two children.

Then they raced for the shore. He reached it first and, a caricature of
his usual shaggy self, ran up toward her clothes, flinging off showers
of drops.

"Keep off, creature!" she ordered, her big voice emerging strangely from
her wisp of dripping figure, as she walked delicately up the shingle.

CHAPTER XV

The Three J's

Old Mat was fond of telling his intimates that Monkey Brand was fly.

"He do love his little bit o' roguey-poguey," he would say with a
twinkle. And it was the old man's opinion, often expressed, that weight
for age Monkey would beat the crooks at their own game every time.

And when he set the little jockey to snout about and rout out the
business of Joses, he knew he was setting his head-lad a task after his
heart.

Monkey Brand had gone to work indeed with the tenacity and the tact that
distinguished him. Once on a line, he hunted it with the ruthlessness of
a stoat. But this time, it seemed, he had met his match. If Monkey was
cunning as a fox, Joses was wary as a lynx.

The fat man watched the other's manoeuvres with eyes that did not
disguise their amusement. He was always ready for a cha