into automatic action.

Running down and along the bank, with one hand she seized the branch
of an oak that swept into the water, then plunged in up to her
shoulders to catch the child drifting down among the white ranunculus.
Fortunately, Fina was still near enough to the shore to be caught as
she drifted by without absolute danger of drowning to Leam, who waded
back to land, drawing the child with her, not much the worse for her
dangerous moment save for the fright which she had suffered and the
cold of her dripping clothes; in both of which conditions Leam was her
companion.

So soon as she was safe on shore the child began to scream and cry
piteously, as was perhaps but natural, and when she saw Josephine she
tore herself away from Leam and ran up to her as if for protection.
"Take me home to nurse," she sobbed, climbing into the little low
phaeton and clinging to Josephine, who was also weeping and trembling
hysterically. "Leam pushed me in: take me away from her."

"You say what is not true, Fina," said Leam gravely, trembling as much
as Josephine, though her eyes were dry and she did not sob. "You fell
in because you would not let me hold you."

"You pushed me in, and I hate you," reiterated Fina, cowering close to
the bosom of her warm, soft friend.

"Do you believe this?" asked Leam, turning to Josephine and speaking
with all her old pride of voice and bearing. Nevertheless, she was as
white as those flowers on the water. It was madame's child who accused
her of attempting to kill her, and it was the child whom she had so
earnestly desired to win who now said, "I hate her," to the sister of
the man to whom she longed to hear her say, "I love Leam."

"Believe that you pushed her in--that you wanted to drown dear little
Fina? No!" cried Josephine in broken sentences through her tears.
"She mistakes.--You must not say such dreadful things, my darling,"
to Fina. "Dear sister Leam would not hurt a hair of your head, I am
sure."

"She did: she pushed me in on purpose," persisted the shivering child,
beginning to cry afresh.

On which, a little common sense dawning on Josephine's distracted
mind, she did her best to stop her own hysterical sympathy,
remembering that to go home, change their wet clothes, have something
warm to drink and be put to bed would be more to the purpose for
both at this moment than to stand there crying, shivering and
recriminating, with herself as the weak and loving judge, inclini