d seen her last, but she was still farther from
shore than before.

"Row straight towards me!" he shouted. "Here is a fine landing-place, cool
and shady."

She looked around and managed to turn the boat's head in his direction.
Then she rowed hard, pulling and splashing, and evidently a little tired.
She was strong, but this unusual exercise was a trial to her muscles.
Perhaps, too, she felt that the bishop was watching her, and that made her
a little nervous, for she could not help being aware that she was not
handling the oars as well as when she started out. With a strong pull at
her right oar to turn the boat inland, she got her left oar tangled
between the water and the boat, so it seemed to her, and lost her hold of
it. In a moment it was overboard and floating on the lake.

Leaning over the side of the boat, she made a grasp at the oar, but it was
too far for her to reach it; and then, by a spasmodic movement of the
other oar, the distance was increased.

The bishop's face grew pale. As he looked at her he saw that she was
moving away from the floating oar, and now he understood why she had
progressed so well. There was a considerable current in the lake which had
carried her along, and was now moving the heavy boat much faster than it
moved the oar. What should he tell her to do? If she could put her single
oar out at the stern, she might scull the boat; but he was sure she did
not understand sculling, and to try it she would have to stand up, and
this would be madness.

She now took the other oar from the rowlock, and was about to rise, when
the bishop shouted to her.

"What are you going to do?" he cried.

"I am going to the stern," she said, "to see if I cannot reach that oar
with this one. Perhaps I can pull it in."

"For Heaven's sake, don't do that!" he cried. "Don't stand up, or the boat
will tip, and you will fall overboard."

"But what can I do?" she called back. "I can't row with one oar."

"Try rowing a little on one side, and then on the other," said he.
"Perhaps you can bring in the boat in that way."

She followed his suggestion, but very awkwardly, and he saw plainly that
she was tired. Instead of approaching the shore, the boat continued to
float down the lake.

Margery turned again. "Bishop," she cried, "what shall I do? I must do
something, or I can't get ashore at all."

She did not look frightened; there was more of annoyance in her
expression, as if she thought it impertinent