"What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?" she cried helplessly.

"Look!" cried Perigal suddenly. "Look, those weeds!"

Mavis looked in the direction indicated. About six feet from the bank was a growth of menacing-looking weeds under the water, which just now were violently agitated.

"I'll bet anything it's Jill. She's caught in the weeds," said Perigal.

"Let me come. Let me come," cried Mavis.

"It's ten feet deep. You're surely not going in?"

"I can't let her drown."

"Let me--"

"But--"

"I'm going in. I can swim."

Perigal had thrown off his coat, kicked off his boots.

The next moment, he had dived in the direction in which he believed Jill to be.

Mavis was all concern for her pet. Although she knew that, more likely than not, she would never see her alive again, she scarcely suffered pain at all. Although incapable of feeling, her mind noted trivial things with photographic accuracy--a bit of straw on a bush, a white cloud near the sun, the lonely appearance of an isolated pollard willow. Meantime, Perigal had unsuccessfully dived once; the second time, he was under the water for such a long time that Mavis was tempted to cover her eyes with her hands. Then, to her unspeakable relief, he reappeared, much exhausted, but holding out of the water a bedraggled and all but drowned Jill.

"Bravo! bravo!" cried Mavis.

"Give me a hand, or have Jill!" gasped Perigal.

Mavis put one foot in the punt in order to take Jill. She held her beloved friend for a moment against her heart, to put her on the floor of the punt and extend a helping hand to Perigal.

"How can I ever thank you?" she asked, as he stood upon the bank with the water dripping from his clothes.

"Easily."

"How?"

"By coming with me to Broughton."

"But Jill!"

"She'll be all right. See, she's better already."

He spoke truly. Jill was alternately licking her paws and feebly shaking herself.

"But what about you? You ought to go home at once and run all the way."

"I shall be all right. Are you going to Broughton?"

"On one condition."

"And what might that be--that I don't go with you?"

"That you run all the way and, when you get there, you borrow a change of clothes."

"Then you'll really come?"

"Since you wish it. I couldn't do less."

"What did I tell you? But there's an inn on the left, the first one you come to. Wait for me there; if they can't lend me a change I'll have to get one somewhere else and come back there."

"Only if you go at once. You've waited too long already."

Perigal started, carrying his dry boots and coat.

"Faster! faster!" cried Mavis, seeing that he was inclined to linger.

She followed behind; she did not move with her customary swinging stride, Jill's extremity having sapped her strength. Directly Perigal was out of sight, she caught Jill in her arms, to smother her wet head and body with kisses.

"Oh, my darling! my darling!" she murmured. "To think how nearly we were parted forever!"

It was with something of an effort that she pursued her way to Broughton. Her steps dragged; her mind was filled with a picture of her dearly loved Jill, cold, lifeless, unresponsive to her caress.

When she reached the inn, she learned that Perigal was upstairs changing into the landlord's clothes. When he came down, clad in corduroys, with a silk handkerchief about his throat, she was surprised to see how handsome he looked.

"So you've got here!" he remarked, as he saw Mavis.

"Didn't I say I was coming?" she asked, as she sank on a seat in the tiny sitting-room.

"You look bad. You must have something."

"I'd like a little milk, please."

"Rot! You must have brandy."

"I'd prefer milk."

"You do as you're told," replied Perigal.

Fortunately, the inn had a spirit licence, so Mavis sipped the stuff that Perigal brought her, to feel better at once. She then soaked a piece of biscuit in the remainder of the brandy, to force it down Jill's throat. Next, she turned to Perigal.

"Have you had any?" she asked.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know how to thank you for saving Jill's life."

"Rot!"