“Zerubbabel!” he commanded, “come out of there at once, sir!”

A stirring in the bushes was the only answer.

The doctor glanced at his bootless feet.

“Bubble,” more mildly, “if you want a swim—­”

“It isn’t Bubble,” said a meek voice, “it’s me.  Are you dressed enough for me to come out?” Without waiting for an answer the elfish face of Ann appeared through the willow tangle.  “If you’re looking for your boots,” she remarked kindly, “they’re hanging on that limb behind you.”

But boots no longer absorbed the doctor.

“Come out of those willows, both of you!”

“There’s only me,” still meekly.  “And I didn’t come to swim.  I came for you.  Honour bright!  The Button Man’s here.”

“What?”

“Yes, he is.  He came in a big grey car and was sitting on the doorstep when Aunt got up.  He told her not to disturb you, but of course Aunt thought that you ought to know at once and when she found that you were gone”—­a poignant pause!

“Yes, when she found me gone—­”

“When she found you gone,” slowly, “she said you must have been called up in the night to a patient!”

“Did she really?” The doctor’s laugh rang out.

“And I hope the Lord will forgive her for such a nawful lie!” finished Ann piously.

“He will, Ann, He will!  You can depend on that.  He has a proper respect for loyalty between friends.  Did I understand you to say that you had seen my boots?  Oh, yes, thanks!  Now I wonder what can have brought our Button Man back so soon?  He didn’t by any chance say, I suppose?”

“Him?” with scorn.  “Not much fear!  I’ll do up your boots if you like.”

“Thanks, no.  That would be using unseemly haste.  Button-men who go visiting on Sunday must learn to wait.  Don’t you want to have a splash, Ann?  I’ll walk on slowly, you can easily catch me up!”

The child looked enviously at the now sparkling water, but shook her head.

“I’d love to.  But I dasn’t.  Aunt always knows when I’ve been in.  Even if I go and muddy myself afterwards, she knows.  She says a little bird tells her.”

“A robin, I’ll bet.  I know that bird!  Sanctimonious thing!  He was watching me this morning and went off as fast as he knew how, to spread the news.  Ann, you have lived in this remarkable town all your life.  Can you tell me just why it is wicked to go swimming on Sunday?”

Ann looked blank.  “No.  But it is.  You’re likely to get drowned any minute!  Not but what I’d risk it if it wasn’t for Aunt.  I’m far more scared of Aunt than I am of God,” she added reflectively.

“Why, Ann!  What do you mean?”

“Well, you never can tell about God, but Aunt’s a dead sure thing!  If she says you’ll get a smack for going in the river you’ll get it—­but God only drowns a few here and there, for examples like.”