'Yes, Mr Blake; you must not wriggle about, because the Jenny Wren is small, and you are big. If you wriggled much you might capsize.'
'I won't wriggle a bit, Lotty. You are so good!'
'Well,' she told him, 'sit right in the centre aft there, and lean forward, so that your weight may be divided.'
'This way?'
'That way, Mr Blake. Thanks.'
'It isn't a very comfy way to sit, Lotty, and I can't see you without bending back my head.'
'You needn't see me. Keep your face down if you like, and look at the fish. Once,' she continued, 'I took Chops out; but he wobbled and wriggled so much I had to tell him to go; and, of course, he went.'
'What! Jumped into the water?'
'Yes, Mr Blake; he could see I was cross. But Chops is the best swimmer in the world, so he soon got back to shore.'
'I hope, Lotty, you won't tell me to go.'