g it.

Gwen screamed with fright, when she saw that now the tub was steadily
going away from the shore.

There was no one in sight, and she sank in a little heap on the bottom
of the tub, too tired to continue shouting, and frightened at the
thought of drifting out to sea.

The gulls flew down and looked at her as if wondering what she might
be, and Gwen cowered, afraid of their great, flapping wings.

No one could say what might have happened, but just at the moment when
her last bit of courage had fled, a fortunate thing occurred.

A tiny fishing craft was coming in, and as it neared the shore, one of
the crew spied the floating tub, then a few moments later the man
exclaimed:

"Why, there's a child in that leaky old tub, as true as I live!"

"Hi, there!" he shouted, and Gwen looked up, and wildly waved her
hands.

"Sit still!" he commanded, "or something'll happen. Keep still, an'
we'll pull ye in when ye come 'long side."

Very thankful was Gwen when later, she found herself safe on the deck,
the rough tub bobbing away across the waves, while the fishermen
listened to her story of the trick that Max had played.

"If that boy was mine I know what he'd get, for doing a mean trick
like that!" said one man, to which another responded:

"And I'd be glad ter help ye give it ter him."

One would have thought that Mrs. Harcourt might have been anxious
because of Gwen's long absence, and her non-appearance at the noon
meal, but such was not the case.

Some one at the table spoke of Gwen, asking if she were ill.

"Oh, dear no!" Mrs. Harcourt said, with a light laugh; "Gwen is never
ill, but she is so very popular that when she does not appear at meal
time, I know that someone has urged her to lunch at her home. Gwen is
dearly loved, and so is constantly being coaxed to remain at this
house or that."

The other guests could not be blamed if they wondered who it might be
who continually longed to have Gwen as a guest.

When the noon meal was over, the guests made their way out onto the
piazza, seating themselves in little groups for an afternoon of chat
and gossip.

Some of the ladies were doing fancy work with gay colored silks. Mrs.
Harcourt always brought her embroidery frame to the piazza. Not that
she did much needlework, but she thought it looked well to have it
with her, even if she talked for hours, while the frame lay idle in
her lap.

Someone said that the same piece of work was in the frame th