"By George!" he said. "All the rest doesn't matter, but this doesn't belong to me."
Leslie stood and looked down at him anxiously. She was thinking of colds and rheumatism, while the young fellow sat so perfectly contented in his wet clothes.
"Don't you think—had you not better go home and change your things as quickly as possible?" she said, forgetting her shyness in her anxiety.
He looked up from the envelope.
"Why, I shall be dry in ten minutes," he said, carelessly, "and I sha'n't take any harm if I'm not. I never caught cold in my life; besides, salt water never hurts."
Leslie shook her head gravely.
"I don't believe that; it's a fallacy," she said. "Some of the old fishermen here suffer terribly from rheumatism."
"That's because they're old, you see," he said, smiling up at her. "And if you think it's so dangerous hadn't you better put Master Dick down? He is making you awfully wet."
She shook her head, and held Dick all the more tightly.