Phelem-ghe-Madone said to Helmsgail,—
"I should prefer going home."
Helmsgail answered, handsomely,—
"The gentlemen must not be disappointed, on any account."
Naked as they were, they felt the cold. Phelem-ghe-Madone shook. His teeth chattered.
Dr. Eleanor Sharpe, nephew of the Archbishop of York, cried out to them,—
"Set to, boys; it will warm you."
Those friendly words thawed them.
They set to.
But neither one nor the other was angry. There were three ineffectual rounds. The Rev. Doctor Gumdraith, one of the forty Fellows of All Souls' College, cried,—