"I don't like those boat-races," hastily interrupted Caroline.
"Girls never do," said Mr. Richard, loftily. "As if they'd like to blister their hands with the oars! Look at mine."
He extended his right hand, palm upwards, triumphant in blisters. Dr. Davenal spoke.
"I don't like boat-racing for you boys, either, Dick."
"Oh, it was prime, Uncle Richard! One of the boats tipped over, and the fellows got a ducking."
"That's just it," said Dr. Davenal. "Boats 'tip' over when you inexperienced young gentlemen least expect it. It has led to loss of life sometimes, Dick."
"Any muff can scramble out of the water, Uncle Richard. Some of us fellows can swim like an otter."
"And some can't swim at all, I suppose. What did Dr. Keen say when he heard of the boatful going over?"
Richard Davenal raised his honest, wide-open eyes to his uncle, some surprise in their depths. "It didn't get to Keen's ears, Uncle Richard! He knew nothing of the boat-race; we had it out of bounds. As if Keen wouldn't have stopped it for us, if he had known. He thought we were off to the cricket-field."
"Well, you must be a nice lot of boys!" cried Dr. Davenal, quaintly. "Does he give a prize for honour? You'd get it, Dick, if he did."