“Row to the shore, quick!” he shouted. “A boy is drowning.”
He turned the rudder, and James and his cousin mechanically obeyed. Tom reached over and grasped the urchin by his arm and deposited him in the bottom of the boat.
It was a young Irish boy, dirty-faced and in rags, and dripping, of course, from his recent immersion.
James surveyed him with evident disgust.
“The dirty brat will wet the boat and make it unfit for us to stay in,” he said.
“Do you want me to pitch him into the water again?” asked Tom coolly.
“‘ROW TO THE SHORE, QUICK!’ TOM SHOUTED. ‘A BOY IS DROWNING.’”
“No,” said James slowly. “Of course I don’t want him to drown, but I don’t enjoy taking in one of the lower order as a passenger. We’d better put him on shore.”
“So I think,” said Edwin. “The little beggar will be better off there.”