in couples was the dragging for the
dead.

'O God, let's find his body,' a woman called out.

'Just a word; is it Commander Beauchamp?' Killick said to her.

She was scarcely aware of a question. 'Here, this one,' she said, and
plucked a little boy of eight by the hand close against her side, and
shook him roughly and kissed him.

An old man volunteered information. 'That's the boy. That boy was in his
father's boat out there, with two of his brothers, larking; and he and
another older than him fell overboard; and just then Commander Beauchamp
was rowing by, and I saw him from off here, where I stood, jump up and
dive, and he swam to his boat with one of them, and got him in safe: that
boy: and he dived again after the other, and was down a long time. Either
he burst a vessel or he got cramp, for he'd been rowing himself from the
schooner grounded down at the river-mouth, and must have been hot when he
jumped in: either way, he fetched the second up, and sank with him. Down
he went.'

A fisherman said to Killick: 'Do you hear that voice thundering? That's
the great Lord Romfrey. He's been directing the dragging since five o'
the evening, and will till he drops or drowns, or up comes the body.'

'O God, let's find the body!' the woman with the little boy called out.

A torch lit up Lord Romfrey's face as he stepped ashore. 'The flood has
played us a trick,' he said. 'We want more drags, or with the next ebb
the body may be lost for days in this infernal water.'

The mother of the rescued boy sobbed, 'Oh, my lord, my lord!'

The earl caught sight of Dr. Shrapnel, and went to him.

'My wife has gone down to Mrs. Beauchamp,' he said. 'She will bring her
and the baby to Mount Laurels. The child will have to be hand-fed. I take
you with me. You must not be alone.'

He put his arm within the arm of the heavily-breathing man whom he had
once flung to the ground, to support him.

'My lord! my lord!' sobbed the woman, and dropped on her knees.

'What 's this?' the earl said, drawing his hand away from the woman's
clutch at it.

'She's the mother, my lord,' several explained to him.

'Mother of what?'

'My boy,' the woman cried, and dragged the urchin to Lord Romfrey's feet,
cleaning her boy's face with her apron.

'It's the boy Commander Beauchamp drowned to save,' said a man.

All the lights of the ring were turned on the head of the boy. Dr.
Shrapnel's eyes and Lord Romfrey's fell on the abashed little cre