Queenie, the baby-sister, how was the helpless
little one to be saved? Wildly Theo gazed over the blue, rippling
water.

There, yonder, on the stretch of sands in front of the fisher-folk's
dwellings, her long sight could distinguish the women at their usual
monotonous employment, mending their nets in the doorways, all unaware
of her peril and that of the child in the sunlit bay.

'Help! help!' she shrieked in the agony of fear that encompassed her,
and in her own ears her voice sounded thin and feebly small, as when in
some horrid nightmare we, all in vain, try to scream aloud, and fail.
Would they sit there, those fisher-women, and never so much as raise
their eyes to glance at the distinctly sinking boat?

It was maddening to the distraught girl, simply maddening.

'What is it, Theo?' quavered the frightened child opposite her in the
boat. 'Is we going to be drowned in the water, Theo?'

'Oh, my darling Queenie! what shall we do?' cried out Theo in a frenzy
of helpless terror. The oars were lying helpless in the bottom of the
rapidly filling boat. 'What are we to do?' She fairly shrieked out
the question again.

'Say "Our Father,"' said Queenie promptly; and she clasped her tiny
hands together in Theodora's. The child was too ignorant to realise
their danger. It was only the terror in Theo's face that frightened
her--Theo, the sister who was so strong, so tall, so all-wise, in the
trustful little one's innocent eyes. But though unconscious of all
their peril, the child's unerring instinct pointed to the true,
unfailing Refuge for all human trouble.

'Our Father in heaven, help me to save Queenie!'

The cry, strong and vibrating, floated over the solitary water. Theo,
in the sudden and unexpected approach of great danger, had forgotten
that God's ears are listening always to catch our prayers, even when
belated and half despairing.

But when the little sister's simple words brought back to her mind the
remembrance of the one great Shelter for us all in the 'day of
trouble,' Theo threw her whole soul into the imploring, impassioned cry
for help.

Then, knowing that God is most ready to aid those who aid themselves,
she rapidly collected her scattered wits to plan out what she had best
do in the extremity she found herself. Untying the long, soft, red
sash Queenie wore round her waist, she hastily, but firmly, fastened
the child to herself, never ceasing, meanwhile, to cry her loudest for
help,