Mr. Evan was more a man of deeds than words, therefore he disappeared at once with a mighty splash, and after repeated divings and much laughter appeared bearing the chief ornament of Mrs. Penelope Carroll’s comely countenance.  Debby looked very pretty and grateful as she returned her thanks, and Mr. Evan was guilty of a secret wish that all the worthy lady’s features were at the bottom of the sea, that he might have the satisfaction of restoring them to her attractive niece; but curbing this unnatural desire, he bowed, saying, gravely,—­

“Tell your aunt, if you please, that this little accident will remain a dead secret, so far as I am concerned, and I am very glad to have been of service at such a critical moment.”

Whereupon Mr. Evan marched again into the briny deep, and Debby trotted away to her aunt, whom she found a clammy heap of blue flannel and despair.  Mrs. Carroll’s temper was ruffled, and though she joyfully rattled in her teeth, she said, somewhat testily, when Debby’s story was done,—­

“Now that man will have a sort of claim on us, and we must be civil, whoever he is.  Dear! dear!  I wish it had been Joe Leavenworth instead.  Evan,—­I don’t remember any of our first families with connections of that name, and I dislike to be under obligations to a person of that sort, for there’s no knowing how far he may presume; so, pray, be careful, Dora.”

“I think you are very ungrateful, Aunt Pen; and if Mr. Evan should happen to be poor, it does not become me to turn up my nose at him, for I’m nothing but a make-believe myself just now.  I don’t wish to go down upon my knees to him, but I do intend to be as kind to him as I should to that conceited Leavenworth boy; yes, kinder even; for poor people value such things more, as I know very well.”

Mrs. Carroll instantly recovered her temper, changed the subject, and privately resolved to confine her prejudices to her own bosom, as they seemed to have an aggravating effect upon the youthful person whom she had set her heart on disposing of to the best advantage.

Debby took her swimming-lesson with much success, and would have achieved her dinner with composure, if white-aproned gentlemen had not effectually taken away her appetite by whisking bills-of-fare into her hands, and awaiting her orders with a fatherly interest, which induced them to congregate mysterious dishes before her, and blandly rectify her frequent mistakes.  She survived the ordeal, however, and at four P.M. went to drive with “that Leavenworth boy” in the finest turnout ——­ could produce.  Aunt Pen then came off guard, and with a sigh of satisfaction subsided into a peaceful doze, still murmuring, even in her sleep,—­

“Propinquity, my love, propinquity works wonders.”

* * * * *

“Aunt Pen, are you a modest woman?” asked the young crusader against established absurdities, as she came into the presence-chamber that evening ready for the hop.