There were two men in the dory, both hatless and in their shirt-sleeves.

In an instant both girls were on their feet, waving their handkerchiefs.

In the same instant the men in the boat caught sight of them, and one of them lifted his oar and flourished it two or three times in the air.

"How will they get here?" asked Martine.

"Oh, probably the water isn't very deep; they can push up part way, and then wade."

"If they can wade, we might have ventured."

"It would not have been safe for us. See, they are pushing the boat up all the way."

The water, indeed, was deep enough to let the boat come up into the hollow--now filled with water--between the two arms of rock, whereby the two girls had climbed to their present position. While the boat was still some distance away Priscilla and Martine had recognized the immaculate Mr. Knight as the man who was steering. Mr. Knight, however, was immaculate no longer; he was hatless and coatless, his hair somewhat tumbled, and his face very red from the unwonted exertion.

From the moment of recognizing him until the moment when the side of the boat grazed the ledge was a very short time indeed.

"We thought we'd find you somewhere near here; at least, we hoped so,"

said Mr. Knight, looking from one girl to the other as if to decide which was the real culprit. "But how in the world did you get here?"

"Walked," replied Martine, laconically; "hadn't time to swim."

"But if you walked why didn't I see you when I looked an hour or two ago? I remember standing above this particular place and calling.

Perhaps you weren't here then."

Martine said nothing. If it should be necessary to confess she could attend to this later. At present she had enough to think about.

"Is Mrs. Redmond worried?" asked Priscilla, anxiously.

"Yes and no," replied Mr. Knight, "though she'll be glad enough to see you."

"Must we go in the boat?" Priscilla spoke as if she dreaded the experiment, and she added, "It looks so very wobbly."

"Oh, that boat, she's as steady as a setting hen," exclaimed Mr.

Knight's companion. "Just you look out, though, and don't wet your feet."

"I'll go first, Priscilla, and if I survive, why, then you can follow."

But before Martine had attempted to take her place Mr. Knight turned to Priscilla, "Of course, if you would rather not go in the dory we could wait here until the tide ebbs. I could stay with you while Mr. Sands rows back to report to Mrs. Redmond. But the boat is perfectly safe, I can a.s.sure you."

"Of course it is perfectly safe," exclaimed Martine, angrily; "I never heard such a silly idea." But whether she meant to apply "silly" to Priscilla's timidity or to Mr. Knight's suggestion she did not deign to explain, and the young man, after one curious glance in her direction, did not address her again.

It was but the work of a minute or two to get the girls aboard the dory, and soon they were at a landing-place from which they could reach Mrs.

Redmond and Amy.

"You ain't the first people that's got caught in that way on the rocks,"

said Mr. Sands as they rowed along, "only generally it's some romantic couple that rather likes to stay there till the tide goes out. But your ma was afraid that if you was there you might try to wade, and so catch your death of cold, and besides, she wasn't sure you were anywhere, as long as Mr. Knight couldn't find you; so when they all seemed so concerned the only thing was to haul out the dory, though it wouldn't have hurt you a mite if you'd had to stay."

"I would as soon have stayed," said Martine, coldly; "it was a good view, and I rather enjoyed sitting there in that little grotto."

"Grotto," Mr. Sands laughed loudly, and Martine fancied that a smile flickered at the corners of Mr. Knight's lips. "Grotto," repeated Mr.

Sands. "Well, I never heard that name used before in these parts. I thought a grotto was foreign, but you've said something now that I won't forget. Here, Mr. Knight, you help the young ladies out, while I steady the boat," and in a second the two girls were running up the beach, where Mrs. Redmond and Amy greeted them with open arms.

It was now after sunset, and all were hungry and cold. In aspect they were wholly unlike the party that had set out from Wolfville that afternoon. All seemed quiet and subdued,--Martine and Priscilla, because they had really been more fatigued by their little adventure than at the time they had realized; Mrs. Redmond and Amy, because they had been most anxious at the prolonged absence of the girls, and Mr. Knight--well, perhaps inwardly he was blaming "those Americans" for giving him much more trouble than was his due. Whatever his thoughts, however, he made no criticism, and any perturbation that he may have felt was shown only by his silence.

What was most to the point, however, the horses and the driver were in good spirits, and set out for Wolfville at a fine rate. While the others had been looking and waiting, man and beast had had food and drink, and this accounted for their energy.

"Grotto," cried Mr. Sands, as the party drove away, "well, that does beat all."

Once on the way back to Wolfville they stopped before a house, after Mr.

Knight had had a word with the driver. Then the young man, excusing himself, went within, returning soon with a small package. This he opened after he had resumed his seat, and distributed to each of the party a bread and b.u.t.ter sandwich and two or three cookies. "I might have brought more," he explained, "but it would be a pity to take away all your appet.i.te for your supper at Wolfville."

The sandwiches and the cakes seemed to promote conversation, and in the remaining half hour the party was as bright and cheerful as a party of young persons ought to be after a summer excursion. When they reached the house Mr. Knight declined the invitation that Mrs. Redmond gave him to stay to tea, though he promised to call on her the next day.

"While we are in Wolfville," said Mrs. Redmond, as he turned away, "we may not be able to show you how thoroughly we enjoyed the delightful afternoon you have given us, but if you come to Boston we will do our best to make a return."

"I can a.s.sure you that the pleasure has been altogether on my side,"

responded Mr. Knight.

"And I can a.s.sure you," added Martine, who had now fully recovered her spirits, "that Priscilla was an unwilling accomplice of mine this afternoon, and that you were very good to rescue me as well as her--everything considered."

"Oh, but I can a.s.sure you," began Mr. Knight, "that I didn't mean--that is, I--" and here realizing that the more he tried to say the more he might blunder, the poor young man backed down the steps with a polite bow and a single "good-night."

"Priscilla," said Amy, that evening, as she handed the former her mail, "here's a funny little package for you, half open at one end, and a letter directed in the same handwriting. Excuse my noticing that the letter is post-marked 'Meteghan.'"

"Why shouldn't you?" responded Priscilla. "We all have acquired the habit of looking at one another's post-marks."

"Open the parcel," cried Amy; "I'm curious to see what it is." Priscilla glanced at Martine, who was deep in a letter from one of her boarding-school friends. Then she cut the string, and, loosening the paper, handed the package to Amy while she glanced over the Meteghan letter.

"Why, it looks like Yvonne's lace," cried Amy, and at the word "Yvonne"

Martine joined the group.

"Why, it is Yvonne's lace," she exclaimed. "How did you get it?"

"I sent for some," replied Priscilla. "I thought that it might help her if I should buy it. I could not buy much, but it has pleased her to sell it. Read her letter."

Tears came into Martine's eyes as she read the simple letter of thanks that seemed to come straight from the heart of the little French girl.

"She remembers us all, though she doesn't spell the names just right, and she sends the best love of Uncle Alexandre, Uncle Placide, and aunts Mathilde and Marie. Well, we must have made an impression." Then, after glancing at the letter a second time, Martine continued: "But you are a brick, Priscilla. How did you happen to think of sending for the lace? I had forgotten all about it, though I was anxious to help Yvonne."

"She writes a good letter, considering that she sees so dimly;" and Amy called Martine's attention to the clear, round hand. "The convent sisters have certainly done a great deal for the child."

When all had admired the strip of lace, Priscilla folded it up neatly and laid it with her letters. She was relieved that Martine had not taken offence at her writing for it. Though Priscilla had not intended this to be a silent reproof to Martine, it had somewhat this effect, for too frequently in Martine's life "out of sight" meant "out of mind," and though she had no desire to break the promises that she had made so freely when in Meteghan, still, but for Priscilla's reminder she might have been long in keeping them. At the same time it is but fair to say that already without Priscilla's knowledge she had taken steps toward carrying out the larger plan that she had conceived regarding Yvonne's future.

"Mamma," said Amy, after she had shown Mrs. Redmond Yvonne's letter, "I have just had a letter from Julia."

"Ah, that is delightful," said Mrs. Redmond. "I am always so pleased to hear from Julia."

Julia Bourne, the cousin of Amy's friend Brenda,--Mrs. Weston--was little older than Amy or the other girls in Brenda's group. Julia, on being graduated from Radcliffe, had decided to spend most of her time and a fair share of her income on a Domestic Science School for girls.

The experiment carried on in the Mansion, a stately West End house belonging to her former teacher, Miss South, during its two years of existence, had proved most successful. The work at the Mansion had been in the nature of social settlement work, and Amy, with little money to give, had been glad to enroll herself as a voluntary teacher.