“Get off of me with that thing. It hurts,” protested the moist private secretary.
Regardless of these objections from his victim, Mr. Quince would have persisted in his efforts with a diligence certain of reward had not Kelly reached down from the bank, and, seizing the dripping and miserable stenographer by the hand, pulled him ashore.
Mr. Quince desisted from his fishing operations only when his prey was beyond his reach. Turning to Ike who had regarded his life saving with profound approval, he boasted, “I’d a got him by the britches sure, if he hadn’t a bin a settin’ down.” He rested upon his pole and his eagle eye swept the river, flashing brilliant in the sunshine. Into his face, but recently lighted with enthusiasm, came a look of dissatisfaction, of disappointment, as he confided his woe to the chauffeur. “There hain’t nobody ever gits drownded in the old Lame Moose,” he complained. “Hain’t ’nough water to drownd a weasel.”
To Ike came comprehension of the troubled soul of the river-man, and he endeavored to comfort him. “Dey am’ ’nough water in dis yere river to slac’ de thirst o’ er g’asshopper,” he agreed.
Loud conversation took place among the mothers as Dr. Jackson announced his purpose of serving sustenance to those infants whose habit it was to resort to artificial sources for nourishment. Much attention was given to the sterilization of bottles, the measuring of milk, and the addition of lime water thereto. The medical man took the opportunity to deliver a lecture upon the feeding of infants with some reference to their early care and discipline, and Virginia took base advantage of her position as picnic manager to hold the babies while they enjoyed bottled refreshments. She would have also kissed each recipient of her favor had she not been sternly repressed by Dr. Jackson, much to the amusement of Mrs. Henderson.
“Let the child kiss the babies if she wants to, Doctor,” urged the widow.
“No,” he refused with firmness. “Kissing is dangerous. Now that we have prohibition, if we could get rid of smoking and kissing, things would be about right.”
“Are you engaged, Doctor?”
“No, certainly not. What made you ask me that, Mrs. Henderson?”
“I wonder why I did, myself, Doctor. It was a foolish question.”