to the river and
the woods beyond. I was not sure that, after all, a town-boy might not
have a good time of it, living in a place like this, instead of in
school.

Suddenly my reflections were disturbed by a shrill scream from the
garden, followed by a little girl of five or six crying--

"Annie, Annie! Mamie's tumbled in; Mamie's tumbled in!"

For a wonder I had my wits about me, and divined the truth at once.
With a bound I was down the steps and across the lawn, half knocking
down the panic-stricken little messenger on the way, and at the river's
edge, floundering piteously in about two feet of water, found the
unfortunate little Mamie--evidently a twin-sister--more frightened than
hurt, but perilously near to getting into deep water.

Her yells redoubled when she found herself grabbed by the sash by a
stranger, and lugged most unceremoniously on to _terra firma_.

Scarcely had I achieved this gallant rescue, without even wetting my own
shoes, when Annie, as white as a sheet, came flying on to the scene.

"It's all right," said I; "she's not hurt."

Whereupon Annie most inconsiderately leaned up against a post, clapped
her hands to her heart, and went or threatened to go off into hysterics.
And there was I, a poor unprotected male, left to face the squalling of
two infant female children and a full-grown female nurserymaid!

"Look here," said I, appealingly, "Mamie's soaking wet. You'd better
take her and dry her, before she gets her death of cold."

This appeal had the desired effect. It stopped the nurse's spasms and
let loose her tongue.

"Oh dear, oh my! And I told her not to go through the gate. Oh, you
naughty girl you; and you. Miss Gwen, for letting her do it. Come in
directly, you little hussies!"

It struck me as grossly unfair of Annie; but I did not venture in her
present state of mind to protest, for fear she should call me hussy too.
I followed indoors, somewhat guiltily, at the tail of the procession,
feeling myself in a very unpleasant situation, in which I would not on
any account be caught by Redwood's mother or by Redwood himself. To my
delight, on the floor of the hall, where Annie had dropped it, lay the
belt, at which I sprang greedily, and not waiting to say thank you, or
put in a word for the doomed infants, which would have been quite
inaudible in the volume of Annie's philippics, I saved myself (as the
Frenchman says), and ran at racing speed with my prize back to the