“I can't be trodden on, can I?”

“Good gracious me, dear; so it's you! What miserable management! Why not have a comfortable bath at home, with hot and cold laid on?”

“Look here, mother, a fellow must wash, and a fellow's got to dry, and if another fellow — ”

“Dear, no doubt you're right as usual, but you are in no position to argue. Come, Lucy.” They turned. “Oh, look — don't look! Oh, poor Mr. Beebe! How unfortunate again — ”

For Mr. Beebe was just crawling out of the pond, On whose surface garments of an intimate nature did float; while George, the world-weary George, shouted to Freddy that he had hooked a fish.