lk joined us as we ran. They were in
anxious haste to save life. They were gleeful with the hope of salvage.
What the sea casts up the Lord provides! Wreck! Wreck! Far-off cries
answered us. The cottage windows were aglow. Lanterns danced over the
flakes. Lights moved over the harbour water. Wreck! Wreck! On we
stumbled. Our feet struck the road with thud and scrape. Our lanterns
clattered and buzzed and fluttered. Wreck! Wreck! We plunged down the
last hill and came gasping to my father's wharf.

Most of our folk were already vigorously underway towards South Tickle.

"Lives afore salvage, lads!" my father shouted from his punt.

My sister caught my arm.

"'Tis a big steamer, Bessie!" I cried, turning.

"Ay," she said, hurriedly. "But do you go stay with mother, Davy. She've
sent me t' Tom Turr's by the path. They're t' fetch the wrecked folk
there. Make haste, lad! She've been left alone."

I ran up the path to our house.

X

THE FLIGHT

It was late in the night. My mother and I sat alone in her dim-lit room.
We were waiting--both waiting. And I was waiting for the lights of the
returning punts.

"Davy!" my mother called. "You are still there?"

"Ay, mother," I answered. "I'm still sittin' by the window, lookin'
out."

"I am glad, dear," she sighed, "that you are here--with me--to-night."

She craved love, my love; and my heart responded, as the knowing hearts
of children will.

"Ah, mother," I said, "'tis lovely t' be sittin' here--all alone with
you!"

"Don't, Davy!" she cried, catching her breath. "I'm not able to bear the
joy of it. My heart----"

"'Tis so," I persisted, "'cause I loves you so!"

"But, oh, I'm glad, Davy!" she whispered. "I'm glad you love your
mother. And I'm glad," she added, softly, "that you've told me
so--to-night."

By and by I grew drowsy. My eyes would not stay open. And I fell asleep
with my head on the window-sill. I do not know how long I slept.

"Davy!" my mother called.

"Ay?" I answered, waking. "Sure, I been asleep!"

"But you're not wanting to go to bed?" she asked, anxiously. "You'll not
leave your mother all alone, will you?"

"No, no, mama!"

"No," she said. "Do not leave your mother, now."

Again I fell asleep. It may be that I wasted a long, long time in sleep.

"Davy!" she called.

I answered. And, "I cannot stay awake," I said. "Sure, 'tis quite past
me t' do it, for I'm so wonderful sleepy."

"Come closer," she said. "Tired lad!"