"I said 'personally,' Sister Mandeville," returned the president, "and I meant personally! I have had dealings with them."
The Coral Strand Missionary Circle was on tip-toe. It was confidently expected that Mrs. Westfall was about to divulge the details of some of her secret efforts at self-improvement, and it was something of a disappointment when she told merely of Karl's triumphant conquest of the art of swimming without going outside of her own kitchen.
As she paused for rhetorical effect the irrepressible Mrs. Mandeville inquired,
"But how do you know he can swim?"
There was a suspicion of a titter from the rear seats; but Mrs. Westfall froze this levity with a glare as she retorted:
"He is, at this very moment, down in swimming with his little playmates!"
"But if he's never tried it in the water, how do you know he can—" began Mrs. Mandeville, but before she could finish her question there was a tremendous slam from the front door, and Biscuit appeared in their midst.
For a moment he was taken for an apparition of the Evil One; and when he fled bawling into his mother's arms he brought his worthy parent under momentary suspicion of intimacy with striped devils.
But when she began to pat his naked back and murmur: "There, ther-r-r-e! Mother's boy is all safe!" and other similar expressions of assurance, the horrified spectators began to grasp the situation, and restored her good character.
It was some time before Biscuit could utter intelligible words, although his mother fancied she heard among his tearful babblings the names of several fish. But when he managed to convey the idea that there was some kind of an initiation, she began to understand his highly decorated exterior. Then suddenly it dawned on her that the painted decorations were the only ones that he had on. In that panicky moment she wrapped him in her best white shawl and started to conduct him towards a small door that led into the session-room, when Mrs. Mandeville again entered the arena.