Grit laughed, as the young lady glanced at him with a smile.
"What are you laughing at, you boatman?" snarled Phil.
"I beg your pardon," said Grit good-naturedly; "I know it must be provoking to have your hat wet. Can I help you in any way? If you will give me the money, and remain in the boat, I will run up to Davis, the hatter's, and get you a new hat."
"How can you tell my size?" asked Phil, making no acknowledgment for the offer.
"Then I will lend you my hat to go up yourself."
Phil's lip curled, as if he considered that there would be contamination in such a plebeian hat. However, as Marion declared it would be the best thing to do, he suppressed his disdain, and, without a word of thanks, put Grit's hat on his head.
"Come with me, Marion," he said.
"No, Phil; I will remain here with Mr. ——," and she turned inquiringly toward the young boatman.
"Grit," he suggested.