So White called: "Come here, Ray."
"When you say 'please,'" shouted I, swimming about.
Doe thereupon took the matter in hand and addressed me:
"Now, Ray, I want you to swim your best. Here's a little kiddy friend of mine I've brought to see you. Mr. Ray, this is Master Moles."
White ignored his companion's playfulness and asked me:
"Can you swim sixty yards?"
I hurled about five pints of water at him to show that I detected the insult.
"You old Moles!" said Doe. "Serves you right. Why, he's just finished swimming about seventy thousand yards."
"Well, sheer off and let's see you do it," ordered White.
I accordingly swam my fastest to the deep end and back.