nly making them worse."

The young woman looked round at Priscilla and smoothed her blown wet
hair from her face.

"Come and help me," she said, "please."

"What's the good of hurrying?" said Priscilla.

"My husband's underneath."

"Well, I suppose he's all right. In fact, I daresay he's a good deal
drier there than we are outside. We'd far better go into your tent and
wait."

"He'll smother."

"Not he. If he's suffering from anything this minute I should say it is
draughts."

The canvas heaved convulsively. It was evident that some one underneath
was making desperate efforts to get out.

"He's smothering. I know he is."

"Very well," said Priscilla. "I'll give you a help if you like; I don't
know much about tents and I may simply make things worse. However, I'll
try."

She attacked a complex tangle of ropes vigorously. Miss Rutherford,
with Frank leaning on her shoulder, staggered up the beach. Just as they
reached the tents the head of a young man appeared under the flapping
canvas. Then his arms struggled out Priscilla seized him by the hands
and pulled hard.

"Oh, Barnabas!" said the young lady, "are you safe?"

"He's wet," said Priscilla, "and rather muddy, but he's evidently alive
and he doesn't look as if he was injured in any way."

The young man looked round him wildly at first He was evidently
bewildered after his struggle with the tent and surprised at the manner
of his rescue. He gradually realised that there were strangers present.
His eyes rested on Miss Rutherford. She seemed the most responsible
member of the party. He pulled himself together with an effort
and addressed her in a tone of suave politeness which, under the
circumstances, was very surprising.

"Perhaps," he said, "I ought to introduce myself. My name is
Pennefather, Barnabas Pennefather. The Rev. Barnabas Pennefather. This
is my wife, Lady Isabel Pennefather. I have a card somewhere."

He began to fumble in various packets.

"Never mind the card," said Priscilla. "We'll take your word for it."

"We," said Miss Rutherford, "are a rescue party. We've been in search
of you for days. This is Priscilla. This is Frank. My own name is Martha
Rutherford."

"A rescue party!" said Mr. Pennefather.

"Did mother send you after us?" said Lady Isabel. "If she did you may go
away again. I won't go back."

"Quite the contrary," said Priscilla, "we're on your side."

"In fact," said Miss Rutherford, "we're here to save you from