"I don't know why I shouldn't. You're my cousin. I adore a girl who doesn't care a hang for me."
"The Thermos bottle," thought Madge acutely. "But you won't tell me who?" she hazarded aloud.
"Why should I?"
"You don't have to; but just remember this, Freddy Whitcomb. Look at this great ocean. It's like the great world. That saying, 'there's just as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it,' is true; and"—Madge captured Whitcomb's reluctant gaze with as bright eyes as ever sparkled under a red cap—"some people are only fish with gold scales," she drawled.
"She isn't," blurted out the young man defensively.
"Of course not," laughed Madge. "Want to go in once more?"
Whitcomb sprang to his feet. "Once more, and then what ho! for the mackerel!"
As he helped Madge up the bank a little later he said: "I must stay with King this afternoon."
"And call at the Barrys'," thought his companion.
"I'm afraid he got sort of down this morning, all alone."