ld see
the whole of it, too, for the highest part isn't much over two feet
above tide-water mark. Near the boat landing is the club house, set up
on piling, with a veranda across the front. The rest of High Bar is only
a few acres of sedge and marsh.

"Yea-uh!" says the native. "Must be somebody thar. Door's open. Yea-uh!
Thar's old Lem Robbins, who allus does the cookin'. Hey, Lem!"

Lem waves cordial and waddles down to meet us. He's a fat, grizzled old
pirate who looked bored and discontented.

"Got anybody with you, Lem?" asks the native.

"Not to speak of," says Lem. "Only a loony sort of gent that wears
skin-tight barber-pole pants and cusses fluent."

"That's Penrhyn!" says Mr. Robert. "Dressed as a fool, isn't he?"

"You've said it," says Lem. "Acts like one, too. Hope you gents have
come to take him back where he belongs. Needs to be shut up, he does."

"But where is he?" demands Mr. Robert.

"Out back of the house, swingin' an old boat-hook and carryin' on
simple," says Lem. "I'll show you."

It was some sight, too. For there is the famous author of "The
Buccaneer's Bride," rigged out complete in a more or less soiled
jester's costume, includin' the turkey red headpiece with the bells on
it. He's standing on a heap of shells and waving this rusty boat-hook
around. Course, I expects when he sees Mr. Robert and realizes how he's
been rescued he'll come out of his spell and begin to act rational once
more. But it don't work out that way. When Mr. Robert calls out to him
and he sees who it is, he keeps right on swingin' the boat-hook.

"Glory be, Bob!" he sings out. "I've got it at last."

"Got what, Penny?" demands Mr. Robert.

"My drive," says he. "Watch, Bob. How's that, eh? Notice that carry
through? Wouldn't that spank the pill 200 yards straight down the
fairway? Wouldn't it, now?"

"Oh, I say, Penny!" says Mr. Robert. "Don't be more of an ass than you
can help. Quit that golf tommyrot and tell me what you're doing here in
this forsaken spot when all New York is thinking that maybe you've been
murdered or something."

"Eh?" says Penrhyn. "Then--then the news is out, is it? Did you bring
any papers?"

"Papers?" says Mr. Robert. "No."

"Wish you had," says Penrhyn. "Got everyone stirred up, I suppose? Tell
me, though, how are people taking it?"

"If you mean the public in general," says Mr. Robert, "I think they are
bearing up nobly. But your mother and Betty----"

"By George!" breaks in