u's old enough to row, and you're nowhere near
old enough; and, O! O! O! you don't know how. And I'll tell my father!
And he'll never know where I am! And my mother's gone away to aunt Maria
Clifford's, and I'm going to be dead when she gets back! And you won't
_try_ to row! _Susy_ could row if she was here, and had a shingle. But
Susy isn't here, and hasn't any shingle! O! O!"

All these sentences Dotty thrust out, one after another, having little
idea what she said, only conscious of an overwhelming terror and an
impulse to keep talking.

Suddenly poor Solly Rosenberg dropped his oar, exclaiming,--

"There, it's of no use; my arms are giving out!"

Freddy Jackson held out a few moments longer, then dropped his oar also,
with a look of utter hopelessness.

[Illustration: IN THE BOAT. Page 93.]

"Why don't you keep a pullin', boys?" said Johnny, dipping in his
useless little paddle.

The boat whirled about like an egg-shell, completely at the mercy of the
waves. If your papa and mamma had seen it, they would have said there
was the last of Dotty Dimple. But, on second thought, you may be sure it
was not the last of her; for if she was going to be drowned in the sixth
chapter, I should never have written this book.

It was a wonderful mercy that the five rash children _were_ spared; but
life is full of just such mercies; and of course I knew all the while
what was coming, or I could not have written so cheerfully.

_What_ was coming?

"I see something," shouted Dotty, "ever so far off! It isn't a gull!"

"It's a sail! a sail!" cried Solly, and took to his oars again.

"A sail! a sail!" thought Freddy Jackson, though he could not say it;
and he steered once more, with courage renewed; though, as to that
matter, it would have been just as well if they had kept still.

By the time the sail-boat came up to the wherry, the children were
thoroughly drenched and sobered. A more subdued set of little sailors
the captain had never seen.

"Well, now," said he, patting the little girls on the head, "I had a
fine lecture made up for you crazy chickens; but you are all so meek,
that I reckon I'll just take you on board, and not scold you till I get
you ashore."

It was the narrowest escape! and they all knew it. The "foolish
chickens" hid their heads, and made mental resolves that they would
never, never venture out of sight of land again without some older
person to take care of them.

"Don't you tell my father,