And now there came another cry: “Eve, where are you? Wait for me.” It was Cicely.
“This way,” called Eve.
She never dreamed that Cicely was alone; she supposed that the Irishman had taken heart of grace and ventured back. But presently a canoe touched hers, and there in the night she saw Cicely all alone, like a phantom. “Baby?” demanded Cicely, holding the edge of Eve’s boat.
“I heard him only a moment ago,” answered Eve, as excited as herself. “Jacky! Jacky!”
No reply.
Then Cicely’s voice sounded forth clearly: “It’s mamma, Jack. Speak to mamma.”
“Mam-ma!” came the answer. A distant sound, but full of joy.
Eve put her paddle in the water again. “Wait,” said Cicely. And she stepped from her canoe into Eve’s, performing the difficult feat without hesitation or tremor. The other canoe was abandoned, and Eve was off with a strong stroke.
“Call,” she said.
Cicely called, and Jack answered.