had never seen a woman faint
before, set up a wail of grief, thinking she must be dead.

[Illustration: "_On being lifted carefully in, Miss Drummond fainted
for the moment._"]

"Oh, the dear lady's dead!" he cried. "Ye must be getting a doctor
quick."

But the others reassured him, and to his vast delight the blue eyes
opened again to give him a look of inexpressible gratitude ere the boat
touched the landing-steps.

Here Mr. Drummond, pale and trembling, the first thrill of numbing
horror having just given place to ecstatic joy, awaited them. The
instant the boat was within reach he sprang into it, and, regardless of
her dripping garments, clasped his daughter to his breast, kissing her
again and again, while his quivering lips murmured, "My darling, my
darling! God be thanked for your rescue!"

Releasing herself gently from his arms, Miss Drummond reached out her
hand for Terry, who was just scrambling awkwardly ashore.

"Don't forget to thank him too, father," she said, with a meaning smile.

Thus reminded, Mr. Drummond, blushing at the excess of feeling which
had caused him to forget everything save that his only daughter, the
joy and pride of his life, had been saved from death, laid hold of
Terry, and drew him back into the boat, where, taking both the boy's
hands in his, he said in tones of deep emotion,--

"My boy, you have done my daughter and me a service we can never
adequately repay. But all that grateful hearts can do we will not fail
to do. Tell me your name and where you live."

Poor Terry was so abashed at being thus addressed by the great Mr.
Drummond that his tongue refused its office. But one of the bystanders
came to his relief.

"Sure and he's Black Mike's son, sur, and he lives up Blind Alley," was
the information volunteered.

Accepting it as though it came from Terry himself, Mr. Drummond, giving
the boy's hands another grateful shake, said,--

"Thank you. You will hear from me before the day ends."

Then taking his daughter by the arm, he continued,--

"Come now, darling; we must make all haste up to my office, and see
what can be done for you."

Not until she stepped upon the wharf did Miss Drummond remember her
pony. Then the question as to what had become of it flashed into her
mind, and she turned to look down the wharf, exclaiming,--

"Oh, but my pony! Poor, dear Dolly! What's become of her?"

"Never mind the pony, dear," said Mr. Drummond; "the men will loo