"For, please God, I'm so frightened of a boat," she added; "and if you could make a bridge, it would be so nice; and help me to be brave, and don't let me have to go through the river like Christian did!"
Then she repeated her text, and found comfort at once from it, as she generally did.
[CHAPTER VIII]
"I WAS MADE RICH TO HELP THE POOR"
MR. O'FLAGHERTY did not miss the children till the light began to fade. He was quite wrapped up in his picture, and when he whistled to them, he expected that they would be close at hand.
"Dear me!" he ejaculated. "What a fellow I am for losing sight of time; we ought to have started for home an hour ago! Now where can those imps have gone!"
He tramped through the wood and down to the river. There he found the little pile of washed plates and cups. But there was no sign or sound of the children, and Mr. O'Flagherty began to lose his patience. He packed up the cart, harnessed the pony, then shouted till he was hoarse, and said to himself that he would never take two children on a painting expedition again. Finally, having faith in his small son being able to extricate himself from any scrape into which he might have fallen, he pulled out his pipe, made up the fire afresh, and lay down beside it, determining to give them an hour's grace.
The sun went down and darkness came on, and still Mr. O'Flagherty lay under the pines and waited. Sleep overtook him eventually; the fire flickered fitfully before dying out; and the silence in the pine woods was only disturbed by the restless movements of the mare, who could not understand why she was not allowed to go home and find comfort and rest in her warm stable.
Then suddenly through the pines came the thud of small feet and a shrill cry:
"Dad, dad! Where are you?"