“Little chap”—he said, between labored breaths—“you haven’t forgotten about ‘a very present help,’ have you?”
A light swept over the child’s face, as though something within him had waked up.
“I—said it!” he gasped. “When—the big wave—came—I said, ‘God is love’—‘unfailing, quick.’ And then—you got me!”
He drew a long, shuddering sigh and looked up at Gilbert while Judith wiped the water from his face.
“It isn’t very nice—when a big wave—sweeps you out—is it?” he asked confidentially.
“No,” Gilbert Graham answered, “it isn’t very nice.”
He looked at his wife—a long look in which a man’s deep repentance was laid at her feet.
“Dear,” he said, “I have much to say to you, if you will let me say it. But we must get the boy home. That water was pretty cold.”
“I will take him,” Judith said.
“And will you wait for me here? I want to speak to you on this strip of beach. But, first, I must see if I cannot get some dry clothing in the village.”