Roger _was_ wet. But now that he was no longer frightened, he was even angrier than wet. To be saved by a _girl_--a thin little slip of a girl at that--was a fearful indignity. A fellow could stand falling in. But to be saved by a girl!
To make it worse, the dock was no longer deserted. There were folks gathering outside the tumble-down shack to look at him. A fat, untidy woman with frowzy reddish hair. A bent old woman with her head tied up in a filthy rag. A small dark man with very bright black eyes. Two staring children. The morning sun made three of the tousled heads blazed like fire. But the boy's wrath blazed even more fiercely. To be saved _by a girl_! And all those staring people watching him drip! It was too much.
Without a word of thanks, and with all the dignity that he could muster, plump young Roger marched past the assembled multitude--it seemed like that to him--straight along the dock toward the shore, leaving behind him a wet, shining trail.
With much difficulty, because of his soggy shoes, he climbed the rough path up the bank to Lake Street, crossed that thoroughfare to clamber up the exceedingly long flight of stairs--four long flights to be exact--that led to the street above. A workman going down met him toiling up.
"Hey!" the man called cheerfully. "Looks like you'd had an accident. Fell in somewheres?"
There was no response. Roger climbed steadily on. By sneaking through backyards and driveways, he managed at last to slip into the open door of his own home, up the stairs, and into his own pleasant room, where he proceeded, with some haste, to change his clothes.
He owned three union suits. He had one of them on. One was in the wash. The other _should_ have been in his bureau drawer--but it wasn't. To ask for it meant to disclose the fact that he had been in the lake--a secret that he had decided never to disclose to _anybody_. With a sigh for his own discomfort, young Roger dressed himself in dry garments, _over_ his wet union suit.
"But what," said Roger, eying the heap of sodden clothing on the floor, "shall I do with those?"
Finally he hung the wet suit in the closet, with his dry pajamas spread carefully over them. He concealed his wet shoes, with his socks stuffed inside, far back in a bureau drawer.