Tommy was on the bank, pretending to skip stones; but that was not what he had gone there for, I assure you. He had gone to look in Preston's pocket, and see what was tied up in the corner of his handkerchief.
"Why don't you come, Tommy? Tom-mee! I'm drow—drow—drowning!"
"O, you hush up! I'll come in a minute."
"Come now—ow—ow! Flaxie got drow—ow—owned!"
Tommy came when he got ready. And, as he swam back to Preston, there was something under his tongue, which was a very sweet morsel to him, and about the size of a gold dollar.
"You said 'twouldn't drown a grasshopper; but 'twould drown a man—with his hat on," gurgled little Preston, indignantly.
Tommy tickled him under the arms, but didn't seem to feel much like talking.
"There," said he, when they had come out of the water, "now I'm going to dress you and send you home to your mother."
"Dress me? Poh, guess I can dress myself!"
"Well, you better hurry then," said Tommy. "What makes you so slow? Your mother'll go into spasms."