ice. 'E won't be back for two hours
good. You might catch a power o' fish afore that. The light's good an'
all," she added.

"Thank you," said Bobbie. "You're very kind. Where's your baby?"

"Asleep in the cabin," said the woman. "'E's all right. Never wakes
afore twelve. Reg'lar as a church clock, 'e is."

"I'm sorry," said Bobbie; "I would have liked to see him, close to."

"And a finer you never did see, Miss, though I says it." The woman's
face brightened as she spoke.

"Aren't you afraid to leave it?" said Peter.

"Lor' love you, no," said the woman; "who'd hurt a little thing like
'im? Besides, Spot's there. So long!"

The woman went away.

"Shall we go home?" said Phyllis.

"You can. I'm going to fish," said Peter briefly.

"I thought we came up here to talk about Perks's birthday," said
Phyllis.

"Perks's birthday'll keep."

So they got down on the towing-path again and Peter fished. He did not
catch anything.

It was almost quite dark, the girls were getting tired, and as Bobbie
said, it was past bedtime, when suddenly Phyllis cried, "What's that?"

And she pointed to the canal boat. Smoke was coming from the chimney of
the cabin, had indeed been curling softly into the soft evening air all
the time--but now other wreaths of smoke were rising, and these were
from the cabin door.

"It's on fire--that's all," said Peter, calmly. "Serve him right."

"Oh--how CAN you?" cried Phyllis. "Think of the poor dear dog."

"The BABY!" screamed Bobbie.

In an instant all three made for the barge.

Her mooring ropes were slack, and the little breeze, hardly strong
enough to be felt, had yet been strong enough to drift her stern against
the bank. Bobbie was first--then came Peter, and it was Peter who
slipped and fell. He went into the canal up to his neck, and his feet
could not feel the bottom, but his arm was on the edge of the barge.
Phyllis caught at his hair. It hurt, but it helped him to get out. Next
minute he had leaped on to the barge, Phyllis following.

"Not you!" he shouted to Bobbie; "ME, because I'm wet."

He caught up with Bobbie at the cabin door, and flung her aside very
roughly indeed; if they had been playing, such roughness would have made
Bobbie weep with tears of rage and pain. Now, though he flung her on
to the edge of the hold, so that her knee and her elbow were grazed and
bruised, she only cried:--

"No--not you--ME," and struggled up again. But not quickly enough.

Pete