n to Eleanor, and the
sobbing cry of relief that answered her made all the strain and effort
seem as nothing. Cautiously creeping along the bank where the river was
comparatively quiet, backing water now and then to test her strength
with the current, she finally reached Eleanor, who had happened quite by
chance to run near the bank and now sat in the frail canoe hanging by
both hands to a branch that swept low over the water, exactly as
Katherine had guessed.

"Why didn't you beach the canoe, and stay on shore?" asked Betty, who
had tied her own boat just above and was now up to her knees in the
water, pulling Eleanor in.

"I tried to, but I lost my paddle, and so I was afraid to let go the
tree again, and the water looked so deep. Oh, Betty, Betty!"

Eleanor sank down on the bank, sobbing as if her heart would break.
Betty patted her arm in silence, and in a few moments she stood up,
quieted. "You're going to take me back?" she asked.

"Of course," said Betty, cheerfully, leading the way to her boat.

"Please wait a minute," commanded Eleanor.

Betty trembled. "She's going to say she won't go back with me," she
thought. "Please let me do it, Eleanor," she begged.

"Yes," said Eleanor, quickly, "but first I want to say something. I've
been a hateful, horrid thing, Betty. I've believed unkind stories and
done no end of mean things, and I deserve all that I've had to-night,
except your coming after me. I've been ashamed of myself for months,
only I wouldn't say so. I know you can never want me for a friend again,
after all my meanness; but Betty, say that you won't let it hurt
you--that you'll try to forget all about it."

Betty put a wet arm around Eleanor's neck and kissed her cheek softly.
"You weren't to blame," she said. "It was all a mistake and my horrid
carelessness. Of course I want you for a friend. I want it more than
anything else. And now don't say another word about it, but just get
into the boat and come home."

They hardly spoke during the return passage; Eleanor was worn out with
all she had gone through, and Betty was busy rowing and watching for
Katherine's matches, which made tiny, glimmering dots of light in the
gloom. Eleanor did not seem to notice them, nor the shadowy figure that
vanished around the boat-house just before they reached the wharf.

From her appointed station under the pine-tree Katherine heard the
grinding of the boat on the gravel, the rattle of oars thrown down on
the