Suddenly he started forward. "I say!--wait a moment!" he called.

A slight turn had brought them in full view of the small boat floating close under the bank, roped loosely to the sh.o.r.e, and of Mittie standing above, poised as for a spring. She was light and active, and fond of jumping. At the moment of Fred's shout she was in the very act. No boatman was within sight.

Perhaps the abrupt call startled her; perhaps in any case she would have miscalculated her distance. She was very self-confident, and had had little to do with boating.

[Sidenote: An Upset]

One way or another, instead of alighting neatly in the boat, as she meant to do, she came with both feet upon the gunwale and capsized the craft.

There was a loud terrified shriek, a great splash, and Mittie had disappeared.

"Fred! Fred!" screamed Mary.

Fred cleared the s.p.a.ce in a few leaps, and was down the bank by the time that Mittie rose, some yards off, floating down the stream, with hands flung wildly out. Another leap carried him into the water.

He had thrown off his coat as he rushed to the rescue; and soon he had her in his grip, holding her off as she frantically clutched at him, and paddling back with one hand.

He was obliged to land lower down, and Mary was there before him.

Between them they pulled Mittie out, a wet, frightened, miserable object, her breath in helpless gasps and sobs, and one cheek bleeding freely from striking the rowlock.

"Oh, Mittie! why did you do it?" Mary asked in distress--a rather inopportune question in the circ.u.mstances. "We must get her home at once, Fred, and put her to bed."

They had almost to carry her up the bank, for all the starch and confidence were gone out of her; and she was supremely ashamed, besides being overwhelmed with the fright and the shock.

On reaching the house Fred went off to change his own soaking garments, and Mittie was promptly put to bed, with a hot bottle at her feet and a hot drink to counteract the effects of the chill.

She submitted with unwonted meekness; but her one cry was for her sister.

"I want Joan! Oh, do fetch Joan!" she entreated. "My face hurts so awfully; and I feel so bad all over. I know I'm going to die! Oh, please send for Joan!"

"I don't think there is the smallest probability of that, my dear," Mrs.

Ferris said, with rather dry composure, as she sat by the bed. "If Fred had not been at hand you would have been in danger, certainly. But, as things are, it is simply a matter of keeping you warm for a few hours.

Your face will be painful, I am afraid, for some days; but happily it is only a bad bruise."

"I thought I could manage the jump so nicely," sighed Mittie.

"It was a pity you tried. Now, Mittie, I am going to ask you a question, and I want a clear answer. Will you tell me frankly--did Joan _wish_ to stay at home to-day, and to send you in her stead?"

Mittie was so subdued that she had no spirit for a fight. "No," came in a whisper. "I--she--she wanted awfully to come. And I--wouldn't stay at home. And Grannie didn't like to spare us both."

"Ah, I see!" Mrs. Ferris laid a kind hand on Mittie. "I am glad you have told me; and you are sorry now, of course. That will make all the difference. Now I am going to send Fred to tell your sister what has happened, and to say that you will be here till to-morrow."

"Couldn't he bring Joan? I do want her so!"

"I'm not sure that that will be possible."

But to Fred, when retailing what had pa.s.sed, she added: "You had better motor over. And if you can persuade Joan to come, so much the better--to sleep, if possible; if not, we can send her home later."

Fred was off like a shot. The motor run was a very short affair compared with going by boat. On arrival, he found the front door of Mrs. Wills's house open; and he caught a glimpse of a brown head within the bow-window of the breakfast-room.

If he could only find Joan alone! He ventured to walk in without ringing.

Alone, indeed, Joan was, trying to darn a pair of stockings, and finding the task difficult. It had been such a long, long day--longer even for her than for Mittie.

[Sidenote: "Fred!"]

"Come in," she said, in answer to a light tap. And the last face that she expected to see appeared. "_Fred!_" broke from her. "Mr. Ferris!"

"No, please--I like 'Fred' best!" He came close, noting with joy how her face had in an instant parted with its gravity. "Why did you not come to us to-day?" he asked earnestly.

"I couldn't."

"Not--because you wanted to stay away?"

"Oh no!"

"Could not your sister have been the one at home?"

Joan spoke gently. "You see, Mittie has never before spent a day at your house. She wanted it so much."

"And you--did you want it, too--ever so little? Would you have cared to come, Joan?"

Joan only smiled. She felt happy beyond words.

"I've got to take you there now, if you'll come. For the night, perhaps--or at least for the evening. Mittie has had a wetting"--he called the younger girl by her name half-unconsciously--"and they have put her to bed for fear of a chill. And she wants you."

Naturally Joan was a good deal concerned, though Fred made little of the accident. He explained more fully, and an appeal to the old lady brought permission.

"Not for the night, child--I can't spare you for that, but for the evening. Silly little goose Mittie is!"

And Fred, with delight, carried Joan off.

"So Mrs. Wills can't do without you, even for one night," he said, when they were spinning along the high road, he and she behind and the chauffeur in front. He laughed, and bent to look into her eyes. "Joan, what is to happen when she _has_ to do without you altogether?"

"Oh, I suppose--she might manage as she used to do before we came." Joan said this involuntarily; and then she understood. Her colour went up.

"I don't think _I_ can manage very much longer without you--my Joan!"

murmured Fred. "If you'll have me, darling."

And she only said, "Oh, Fred!"

But he understood.

[Sidenote: Here is a story of an out-of-the-way Christmas entertainment got up for a girl's pleasure.]

A Christmas with Australian Blacks