“Me, too,” said Pauly.

“I am not anxious to be a horse, Teddy.  I’m quite content as I am.”

Lord Newhaven was stretched in an easy but undefensive attitude on the heathery bank, with his hands behind his head.  His two sons rushed simultaneously at him and knelt on his chest.

“Promise!” they cried, punching him.  “Two turns each.”  There was a free fight, and Lord Newhaven promised.

“Honor bright!  Two turns each, and really deep!”

“Honor bright,” said Lord Newhaven.

His two sons got off his chest, and Teddy climbed on his back in readiness, as his father sat up and began to unlace his boots.

“Higher!” said Teddy, over his shoulder, his arms tightly clasped round his father’s neck, as Lord Newhaven rolled up his trousers.

“You young slave-driver, they won’t go up any higher.”

“You said ‘honor bright.’”

“Well, Shylock, I am ‘honor bright.’”

“You had them over your knees last time.”

“I had knickerbockers on, then.”

“Won’t these do the same?”

“They won’t come up another inch.”

“Then one, two, three—­off!” shrieked Teddy, digging his heels into the parental back.

The horse displayed surprising agility.  It curveted, it kicked, it jumped a little drain, it careered into the water, making a tremendous splashing.

The two boys screamed with delight.

But at last the horse sat down on the bank gasping, wiped its forehead, and, in spite of frenzied entreaties, proceeded to put on its socks and boots.

Lord Newhaven was not to be moved a second time.  He lit a cigarette and observed that the moment for sailing boats had arrived.

The boats were accordingly sailed.  Lord Newhaven tilted his hat over his eyes and acted as umpire.

“It is not usual to sail boats upsidedown,” he said, seeing Teddy deliberately upset his.

“They are doing it out there,” said Teddy, who had a reason for most things.  And he continued to sail his boat upsidedown.

Lord Newhaven got up, and swept the water with his eye.  His face became keen.  Then his glance fell anxiously on the children.

“Teddy and Pauly,” he said, “promise me that you will both play on this one bit of sand, and not go in the water till I come back.”

They promised, staring bewildered at their father.

In another moment Lord Newhaven was tearing through the brushwood that fringed the water’s edge.

As he neared the boat-house he saw another figure trying to shove out the remaining boat.

It was Doll.  Lord Newhaven pushed her off and jumped in.

Doll was almost speechless.  His breath came in long gasps.  The sweat hung on his forehead.  He pointed to the black, upturned boat.

“This one leaks,” said Lord Newhaven, sharply.

“It’s got to go all the same, and sharp,” said Doll, hoarsely.