Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 39).djvu/732

 "What!"

"I was."

Mr. Mifflin sat down on the bed.

"This fellow fell off the pier, and a girl brought him in."

George nodded.

"And that was you?"

George nodded.

Mr. Mifflin's eyes opened wide.

"It's the heat," he declared, finally. "That and the worry of rehearsals. I expect a doctor could give you the technical name for it. It's a what-do-you-call-it—an obsession. You often hear of cases. Fellows who are absolutely sane really, but cracked on one particular subject. Some of them think they're teapots and things. You've got a craving for being rescued from drowning. What happens, old man? Do you suddenly get the delusion that you can't swim? No, it can't be that, because you were doing all the swimming for the two of us just now. I don't know, though. Maybe you didn't realize that you were swimming?"

George finished lacing his shoe and looked up.

"Listen," he said; "I'll talk slow, so that you can understand. Suppose you fell off a pier, and a girl took a great deal of trouble to get you to the shore, would you say, 'Much obliged, but you needn't have been so officious I can swim perfectly well'?"

Mr. Mifflin considered this point. Intelligence began to dawn in his face. "There is more in this than meets the eye," he said. "Tell me all."

"This morning"—George's voice grew dreamy—"she gave me a swimming-lesson. She thought it was my first. Don't cackle like that. There's nothing to laugh at."

Mr. Mifflin contradicted this assertion.

"There is you," he said, simply. "This should be a lesson to you, George. Avoid deceit. In future be simple and straight-forward. Take me as your model. You have managed to scrape through this time. Don't risk it again. You are young. There is still time to make a fresh start. It only needs will-power. Meanwhile, lend me something to wear. They are going to take a week drying my clothes."

There was a rehearsal at the Beach Theatre that evening. George attended it in a spirit of resignation and left in one of elation. Three days had passed since his last sight of the company at work, and in those three days, apparently, the impossible had been achieved. There was a snap and go about the piece now. The leading lady had at length mastered that cue, and gave it out with bell-like clearness. Arthur Mifflin, as if refreshed and braced by his salt-water bath, was infusing a welcome vigour into his