“Let’s see,” said Simpson, “I start off with ‘The Minstrel Boy,’ don’t I?  And then what do we do?”

“Then we help you to escape,” said Archie.  “After that, Dahlia sings ‘Santa Lucia,’ and Myra and I give them a duet, and if you’re back by then with your false nose properly fixed it might be safe for you to join in the chorus of a coon song.  Now then, are we all ready?”

“What’s that?” said Myra.

We all listened ... and then we opened the door.

It was pouring.

V.—­MAROONED

“Stroke, you’re late,” said Thomas, butting me violently in the back with his oar.

“My dear Thomas, when you have been in the Admiralty a little longer you will know that ‘bow’ is not the gentleman who sets the time.  What do you suppose would happen at Queen’s Hall if the second bird-call said to the conductor, ’Henry, you’re late’?”

“The whole gallery would go out and get its hair cut,” said Archie.

“I’m not used to the Morse system of rowing, that’s the trouble,” explained Thomas.  “Long-short, short-short-long, short-long.  You’re spelling out the most awful things, if you only knew.”

“Be careful how you insult me, Thomas.  A little more and I shall tell them what happened to you on the ornamental waters in Regent’s Park that rough day.”

“Really?” asked Simpson with interest.

“Yes; I fancy he had been rather overdoing it at Swedish drill that morning.”

We gave her ten in silence, and then by mutual consent rested on our oars.

“There’s a long way yet,” said Myra.  “Dahlia and I will row if you’re tired.”

“This is an insult, Thomas.  Shall we sit down under it?”

“Yes,” said Thomas, getting up; “only in another part of the boat.”

We gave up our seats to the ladies (even in a boat one should be polite) and from a position in the stern waited with turned-up coat-collars for the water to come on board.

“We might have sailed up a little higher,” remarked Simpson.  “It’s all right, I’m not a bit wet, thanks.”

“It’s too shallow, except at high tide,” said Myra.  “The Armadillo would have gone aground and lost all her—­her shell.  Do armadilloes have shells, or what?”

“Feathers.”

“Well, we’re a pretty good bank-holiday crowd for the dinghy,” said Archie.  “Simpson, if we upset, save the milk and the sandwiches; my wife can swim.”

The woods were now beginning to come down to the river on both sides, but on the right a grassy slope broke them at the water’s edge for some fifty yards.  Thither we rowed, and after a little complicated manoeuvring landed suddenly, Simpson, who was standing in the bows with the boat-hook, being easily the first to reach the shore.  He got up quickly, however, apologized, and helped the ladies and the hampers out.  Thereafter he was busy for some time, making the dinghy fast with a knot peculiarly his own.