"Fat policeman," said the skipper, jauntily, twisting his moustache.
Miss Pilbeam, only daughter of Sergeant Pilbeam, caught her breath sharply.
"What have you been doing?" she inquired, as soon as she could control her voice.
"Nothing," said the skipper, airily, "nothing. I was kicking a stone along the path and he told me to stop it."
"Well?" said Miss Pilbeam, impatiently.
"We had words," said the skipper. "I don't like policemen—fat policemen—and while we were talking he happened to lose his balance and go over into some mud that was swept up at the side of the road."
"Lost his balance?" gasped the horrified Miss Pilbeam.
The skipper was flattered at her concern. "You would have laughed if you had seen him," he said, smiling. "Don't look so frightened; he hasn't got me yet."
"No," said the girl, slowly. "Not yet."
She gazed at him with such a world of longing in her eyes that the skipper, despite a somewhat large share of self-esteem, was almost startled.