Patch seemed to ponder the situation. "I expect I should sink," he announced brightly.
"Come, I'll tell you what I'll do," said Jack. "I'll defy an indignant world, and teach you the noble art of supporting yourself in the aqueous elephant—I mean element. That is, after the trial swim."
"What is this trial swim, comrade? For that matter, any sort of a swim would be a trial—for me."
"Joke?" asked Jack, carelessly. "Fact is, old fellow, this is a preliminary canter, so to speak, for a hundred-yards championship of the Coll. Friend Billy is in for the event and he's a hot favourite too. You'll see. It's a pound to a peanut that the Cup goes to Salmon's House this year. I'm just going to give Billy a bit of a sprint over the length."
"I'm sure it will be most exciting, comrade. I never did like baths, though. The sight of all that water—ugh! Tell you what, I've just remembered that I'd made an appointment. Beastly forgetful of me, but—"
"No, you don't," laughed Jack, grabbing the Socialist's arm and dragging him towards the entrance to the baths. "You must learn swimming some time—why not now. Hop into a costume—wait till my swim's over."
In a few minutes Patch stood shivering upon the edge in a costume several sizes too large for him, while Jack took a ten seconds' start on Billy in a hundred-yards sprint. Septimus looked on with an eye of cold disfavour as the two chums swept the length of the baths in a cloud of foam and bubbles. Billy had perfected a very neat trudgeon-crawl, and he beat Jack, who was no mean hand at the game, by a matter of three seconds, despite the start that the latter had had.
Later on when Billy ran off to change, Jack caught sight of the miserable Septimus Patch and recalled his intention of giving the inventor a few lessons.
"Here," said Jack, "come along to the shallow end—look slippy."
Septimus paced gingerly after him along the wet boards, and all at once he executed a most astounding manœuvre. His feet went from under him, and he landed head-first in the water.