Mr. Webster set his teeth and pulled with all his strength; Mrs. Webster was steering, and she kept the boat in mid-stream that it might get the full force of the current. Phil knelt in the bows, keeping the sharpest look-out for any sign of his missing cousin. The damp wind blew down the river and drove them on.
They passed many other boats and two or three barges, but not a sign of the Fairy. They flew along between green banks, between hedges, trees, houses. Sometimes they could see nothing more distant than a hedge, at other times the flat fields stretched back and back, and were lost at the feet of misty gray hills. But not on the river, nor on the banks, nor in the fields, could Philip see Juliet's figure.
"How little even some grown men know about rowing!" was Mr. Webster's remark when he saw a heavy-looking boat with a smaller one tied to its stern coming up the middle of the stream. "It is that old gentleman who, they say, is staying at the hotel with his son, and their man-servant is sculling them up the very stiffest bit of the current."
"Hoorah!" shouted Philip. "All right, Juliet!"
For on the seat beside Mr. Burnet, sheltered by his umbrella, sat the truant girl, while young Leonard was giving Roberts instructions in the art of rowing.
The two boats met and came alongside. Philip was so greatly relieved in mind that he almost felt inclined to cry, while Juliet was silent and ashamed if not sulky.
"This child has given her friends at Littlebourne Lock a terrible fright," said Mr. Webster to Mr. Burnet. "When they discovered that the boat was missing as well as the girl, they quite thought that both must have gone over the weir together."
The vicar had brought his boat close beside Mr. Burnet's, and held the rowlocks of the latter while he asked questions.
"No, not at all. I think we came upon her just in time."