r, of this town, without
pursuing me in this manner when I wish to enjoy a quiet swim?"

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 ejected the successors of the wave he had
swallowed at the beginning of our little chat. The art of conducting
bright conversation while in the water is not given to every swimmer.
This he seemed to realize, for, as if to close the interview, he
proceeded to make his way as quickly as he could toward the shore.
Using my best stroke, I shot beyond him and turned, treading water as
before.

"But, professor," I said, "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 with Phyllis would hardly have been enhanced thereby. No
more convincing proof of my devotion can be given than this, that I
did not seize that little man by the top of his head, thrust him under
water, and keep him there.

I restrained myself. I was suave. Soothing, even.

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

"Not one," he spluttered. "Go away, sir. I will have nothing to say to
you."

"I shan't keep you a minute."

He had been trying all this while to pass me and escape to the shore,
but I kept always directly in front of him. He now gave up the attempt
and came to standstill.

"Well?" he said.

Without preamble I gave out the text of the address I was about to
deliver to him.

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

He went under as if he had been seized with cramp. It was a little
trying having to argue with a man, of whom one could not predict with
certainty that at any given moment he would not be under water. It
tended to spoil one's flow of eloquence. The best of arguments is
useless if the listener suddenly disappears in the middle of it.

However, I persevered.

"Mr. Derrick," I said, as his head emerged, "you are naturally
surprised."

"You--you--you--"

So far from cooling him, liberal doses of water seemed to make him
more heated.

"You impudent scoundrel!"

He said that--not I. What I said was more gentlemanly, more courteous,
on a higher plane altogether.

I said winningly: "Mr. Derrick, cannot we let bygones be bygones?"

From his expression I gathered that we could not.

I continued. I was under the