Henry Callandar, resting neck-deep in the cool green swimming pool, tossed the wet hair out of his eyes and whistled ingratiatingly to a watching robin.

A delightful sense of guilt enveloped him, for it was Sunday morning and, since his experience at Pine Lake a week ago, he had learned a little of what Sunday means in Coombe.

Esther had been quite right in fearing that his return by train upon that sacred day might deal a severe blow to his prestige--at least until Mrs.Sykes had had time to explain to every one how unavoidable it had been--and he knew that if he were to be caught in his present delightful occupation his Presbyterian reputation might be considered lost forever.
The robin twittered at him prettily but refused to be beguiled.

Sunday bathing was not among its weaknesses.

Presently it flew away.
"Gone to tell the minister, I'll be bound!" murmured Callandar.