“You saved me from drowning!” said Mr. Crisparkle.
“After which you took to swimming, you know!” said Mr. Tartar.
“God bless my soul!” said Mr. Crisparkle.
“Amen!” said Mr. Tartar.
And then they fell to shaking hands most heartily again.
“Imagine,” exclaimed Mr. Crisparkle, with glistening eyes: “Miss Rosa Bud and Mr. Grewgious, imagine Mr. Tartar, when he was the smallest of juniors, diving for me, catching me, a big heavy senior, by the hair of the head, and striking out for the shore with me like a water-giant!”
“Imagine my not letting him sink, as I was his fag!” said Mr. Tartar. “But the truth being that he was my best protector and friend, and did me more good than all the masters put together, an irrational impulse seized me to pick him up, or go down with him.”
“Hem! Permit me, sir, to have the honour,” said Mr. Grewgious, advancing with extended hand, “for an honour I truly esteem it. I am proud to make your acquaintance. I hope you didn’t take cold. I hope you were not inconvenienced by swallowing too much water. How have you been since?”
It was by no means apparent that Mr. Grewgious knew what he said, though it was very apparent that he meant to say something highly friendly and appreciative.
If Heaven, Rosa thought, had but sent such courage and skill to her poor mother’s aid! And he to have been so slight and young then!