CHAPTER XIX
THE GOOD OF THE ILL WIND
Mabel waked up just as Jane triumphantly rode her last wave and was cast up on the sand still holding on to her unconscious burden.
Lorna’s friends, shrieking and crying, threw themselves on her wailing and moaning:
“She is dead! She is dead!”
“Give her to me!” sternly demanded her stricken father.
Jane was completely exhausted and lay for a moment with her eyes closed while the crowd of holiday makers closed in around her, praising her and lauding her to the skies. But Jane’s work was not over. As soon as she could pull herself together she was on her feet and, pushing her way unceremoniously through the crowd, she caught Mr. Breckenridge by the arm where he stood clasping his Lorna to his broken heart.
“Don’t listen to them! She is not dead! Give her to me. Give her here, I say! Mabel!” she called, “come and help me.”