"I thought the dear public loved the dare-devil acts," remarked
Arthur Weldon.

"Oh, it does," agreed Mrs. Montrose; "yet those who attend the picture
theatres seem not to consider the action taking place before their eyes
to be real. Here are pictures only--a sort of amplified story book--and
the spectators like them exciting; but if they stopped to reflect that
men and women in the flesh were required to do these dangerous feats for
their entertainment, many would be too horrified to enjoy the scenes. Of
course the makers of the pictures guard their actors in all possible
ways; yet, even so, casualties are bound to occur."

They had retired to a cosy corner of the public drawing room and were
conversing on this interesting topic when they espied A. Jones walking
toward them. The youth was attired in immaculate evening dress, but his
step was slow and dragging and his face pallid.

Arthur and Uncle John drew up an easy chair for him while Patsy performed
the introductions to Mrs. Montrose and her nieces. Very earnestly the boy
grasped the hand of the young girl who had been chiefly responsible for
his rescue, thanking her more by his manner than in his few carefully
chosen words.

As for Maud, she smilingly belittled her effort, saying lightly: "I
know I must not claim that it didn't amount to anything, for your life is
valuable, Mr. Jones, I'm sure. But I had almost nothing to do beyond
calling Patsy Doyle's attention to you and then swimming out to keep you
afloat until help came. I'm a good swimmer, so it was not at all
difficult."