iderably worse than usual.

'Oh,' screamed Queenie, 'my bestest new shoes is quite wetted, Theo!
Look!'

Queenie certainly was right; the shiny little toes that, dangling, did
not reach the bottom of the boat even, were already wet. Theo's fresh
blue print also was fringed round with sea-water when she looked down
at it.

'I think we might manage to get across, though,' said Theo hopefully.
'It's a pity to turn back. We shouldn't get much wetter than we are
already, should we?'

'Not much wetterer,' acquiesced Queenie equably, as she dipped first
the tip of one shoe, then the other, into the water. Of course, if
Theo didn't mind, it was nothing to Queenie.

The afternoon was a glorious one, with a faint touch of north in the
wind, just enough to bring out colour intensely. The blue of the sea
and the blue of the sky were alike sapphire in hue, against which the
gulls that darted and skimmed hither and thither showed white. It was,
in truth, an afternoon when the world seemed so passing fair, so
secure, that the mind was lured into believing that it was
all-sufficient.

Thus it is with ourselves. When we are getting on too smoothly at
school, or at our work, it all begins to feel such easy plain-sailing,
that we rest on our oars and grow over-confident. We are, in a sense,
off guard. And so it was with the occupants of 'The Theodora,' as it
gradually made its way to the middle of the bay. Of course they would
get across in safety, as Theo declared; they had done it a hundred
times already, since the leak was first sprung.

Nothing had ever happened in the girl's eighteen years of life in the
shape of any serious accident either by land or by sea. It was
difficult to realise that mishaps could possibly occur, and, with her
eyes fixed on the wondrous blue above and below, Theo rowed on, calling
herself lazy because she did not seem, somehow, able to get so fast
through the water as usual.

'Theo! oh, Theo!'

'Queenie!'

Two affrighted shrieks rang out simultaneously; for, suddenly, the
sisters each became aware that 'The Theodora' had shipped a quantity of
water. The boat was so heavy that Theo's oars could hardly move it.

'Oh, what have I done?' cried the elder girl, ashy pale, and stunned
with the shock. 'Oh, my darling Queenie!'

It was for the beloved little sister that the thrill of anxious terror
rushed over Theo. She herself could swim, in a fashion, if the worst
came to the worst; but