The two gentlemen looked very grave, but did not offer to turn and go down stream to look for Juliet.
As their boat came out of the lock another was waiting to come in. It contained Mr. Webster, the vicar of Littlebourne, and his wife.
"Beg your pardon, sir," said Rowles as soon as he had closed the gate above them, "would you mind if Philip was to jump into your bows and go down a bit with you? Because there's a girl, my niece in fact, who must have gone off in my little Fairy, and she don't know bow oar from stroke, and if she gets alongside Banksome Weir she'll go over and be drowned."
"Oh, dear me!" said Mr. Webster. "How did the child come to be all alone in a boat?"
"Through being brought up without a grain of sense. What can you expect when the father sleeps all day so that he never can give a word of advice to his children? Now, in with you, Phil; and I shall be glad to see you come back—" he broke off with a cough.
"I will pull as hard as I can," said Mr. Webster. "We must hope that by God's mercy the child will be saved."
Phil dropped from the bank into the boat, and the moment they were out of the lock the boat went flying down the river as fast as the current and the vicar's strong arms could send her.
"She will be very wet when she comes in," said Mrs. Rowles; "it is beginning to rain."
"She'll be pretty wet if she's been in the river," said Mr. Rowles.
His wife heaped up the kitchen fire and put coffee on to boil, and laid some clean garments to get warm, and waited with anxious heart for some news of the missing child.