And Hilda and Isobel joining in, they contrived amongst them to
raise a considerably lusty shout.

To their intense relief it seemed to be heard, as the ship tacked round,
and bearing down upon them, very soon came up alongside.

"Well, of all sights as ever I clapped eyes on! Four bairns adrift in an
open craft! I thought summat was up when I see'd your flag, and then you
hollered.--Easy there, Jim. Take the little 'un on first. Mind that lad!
He'll be overboard!--Whisht, honey! don't take on so. You'll soon be
safe back with your ma.--Now, missy, give me your hand. Ay, you've been
up to some fine games here, I'll wager, as you never did ought. But
there! Bairns will be bairns, and I should know, for I've reared seven."

"Mr. Binks!" cried Isobel, to whom the ruddy cheeks, the bushy eyebrows,
and the good-natured conversational voice of her friend of the railway
train were quite unmistakable.

"Why, it's little missy as were comin' to Silversands!" responded the
old man. "To think as I should 'a met you again like this! I felt as if
somethin' sent me out this mornin' over and above callin' at Ferndale
for a load of coals, which would 'a done to-morrow just as well. It's
the workin's of Providence as we come on this tack, or you might 'a
been right out to sea, and, ten to one, upset in that narrer bit of a
boat."

It certainly felt far safer in Mr. Binks's broad-bottomed fishing-smack,
though they had to sit amongst the coals and submit to be rather
searchingly and embarrassingly catechised as to how they came to be in
such a perilous situation. Their plight had been noticed at last from
the harbour, where the owner of the boat, missing his craft, had raised
a hue-and-cry, and there was quite a little crowd gathered to meet them
on the jetty when they landed, a crowd which expressed its satisfaction
at their timely rescue, or its disapproval of their escapade, according
to individual temperament.

"Praise the saints ye're not drownded entoirely!" cried Biddy, giving
Charlie a smacking kiss, much to his disgust. "And it's ould Biddy
Mulligan as saw the peril ye was in, and asked St. Pathrick and the
Blessed Virgin to keep an eye on yez. Holy St. Bridget! but ye're a
broth of a boy, afther all."

"I'm main set to give you a jolly good hidin'," growled the owner of the
boat, greeting Charlie with a somewhat different reception, and
fingering a piece of rope-end as if he were much tempted to put his
threat into exe