old?"

"Not very," replied his wife, raising her head. "I'm strong, thank God,
and can stand it; but Peggy here is shudderin' awful bad. I believe
she'll die if somethin' isn't done for her."

"I think if she could only ring the water out of her clothes," whispered
Mrs Hayward to her husband, "it might do her some good, but--"

"I know that, Eva: it would do you all good, and we must have it done
somehow--"

An exclamation in the bow of the boat at that moment attracted
attention. It was John Mitford, who, having taken off his own coat, and
wrapped it round his shivering wife, had gone to the bow to rummage in a
locker there, and had found a tarpaulin. Massey had overhauled the
locker for food before him, but the tarpaulin had been so well folded,
and laid so flat in the bottom, that it had escaped his notice.

Retiring aft with this god-send, the lugubrious man speedily, with the
assistance of his comrades, covered over the centre of the boat so
completely that a small chamber was formed, into which the women could
retire. It was not high enough, indeed, to stand in, but it formed a
sufficient shelter from wind and spray.

"Now, Peggy, my dear," said her husband when it was finished, "get in
there--off wi' your things an' wring 'em out."

"Th-thank you, J-John," replied Peggy, whose teeth chattered like
castanets, "but 'ow am I t-to d-dry 'em? For wet c-clo'es won't dry
wi-without a fire. At least I n-never 'eard of--"

The remainder of her remarks were lost to male ears as the tarpaulin
dropped around her after Eva Hayward and Nellie had led, or half-lifted,
her under its sheltering folds. How they managed to manipulate the
shivering Peggy it is not our province to tell, but there can be no
doubt that the treatment of her two friends in misfortune was the cause
of her emerging from under the tarpaulin the following morning alive and
comparatively well, though still far from dry.

The aspect of things had changed greatly for the better when the
unfortunates resumed their voyage. The wind had abated, the sea,
although still heaving, was smooth. The snow had ceased, and the sun
arose in a cloudless sky, so that when poor Mrs Mitford raised her
dishevelled head and felt the sun's cheering rays she exclaimed, with a
sigh of relief: "La! if the sun ain't blazin' 'ot! An' I'm so 'ungry.
Dear, dear, 'ave you bin rowin' all night, John? 'Ow tired you must be;
an' your 'ands blistered, though you are prett