Helen kissed and soothed him, but Aymer said, "Don't make a fuss now, Guy. We must not think of anything but Clarice. Girls, I'm going to lift her; she must not lie in the water any longer. I'll lay her on this bit of turf. There, my poor little pet! Now give me your handkerchiefs, girls; and your apron, Helen. Hand me that bit of stick. See, Lizzie, help me. I must tie it so as to prevent it from hanging down or moving. There!—" As he finished his rough surgery (rough in appliances, but not roughly done) "There, that's all I can do. I never could get her up there without shaking her. I must carry her up the bed of the stream until we come to the place where the banks are low. Then I'll go through the field into the lane,—you know where the lane leads down to the river? You, Helen, go down at once and bring the boat to meet us there. Do you think you can?"
"Yes, I can; Guy will help me. Come, Guy, we'll climb down here."
"You come with me, Liz; I may want help."
Then he lifted the child in his arms, and up the stream they waded. It was never up to their knees, and generally only covered their feet. Clarice moaned a little, and the sound was sweet music to their ears, for she was so white and cold that their hearts misgave them sometimes.
It seemed a weary way; but they reached the lane at last, and were soon at the river side, where the boat was waiting for them. Clarice was gently laid in the bottom of the boat, and Lizzie got in, that she might help Aymer when they reached the other side.
Meantime Elise had got through a great deal of hard work; generally the afternoon was lesson time, but the children's holiday was no holiday to her. When the sun began to get low, she went with a smile to mix the cake for which saucy Clarice had begged. She set it on the griddle (if you don't know the taste of hot griddle cake, I am sorry for you, and hope you will, some day), and then left it to Katty's care, while she went out on the door-steps to see if the children were coming over the river.
What she did see was Helen slowly and carefully pulling the boat up the river, while Guy followed as best he might along the shore; in a moment the mother's heart took alarm. Where were the others? What had gone wrong with them? She was sure that Guy was crying, and he did not often cry. In her alarm, she did what she had not done for many a day. She went into the room where her husband sat at his desk, and put her hand on his shoulder.
"Mr. Egerton, something has happened to the children."
"What!" he said. "Where are they?"
"Over the river. Helen is taking the boat round the point."