“Go for a doctor, somebody, and then bring blankets,” he continued, without suspending his efforts.

For fifteen minutes or more he worked for dear life, assisted by others; then a physician appearing upon the scene, he was only too glad to relinquish his patient to him, for suspense and excitement, together with the strength he had expended in the water, had nearly exhausted him, and he willingly obeyed Mr. Brewster, who ordered him to “come to his rooms, have a bath, and get into dry clothing.”

The child soon recovered under the physician’s treatment, and appeared as bright and well as ever.

Gerald, who was about the size of Mr. Manning, was provided with necessary apparel from that gentleman’s wardrobe, and ere long reappeared among the company, looking a trifle pale, perhaps, but very handsome and attractive after his act of heroism.

Allison also came down in a fresh toilet in season to receive the adieus of her friends, who declared they had had a delightful time in spite of their recent fright.

No one would acquiesce in Gerald’s going back to the city that night. Mr. Brewster, with an unusual thrill of feeling in his voice, told him to “stay and make himself at home.”

An hour later the gentleman left his niece, Mrs. Manning, with Allison and Gerald, sitting upon the broad balcony overlooking the lake, where a glorious full moon shed its silver light all around them, and went to the library.

Fifteen minutes afterward Gladys called “mama” from above, and Mrs. Manning went up to see what was wanted, when, finding the child restless and nervous, she lay down beside her, where they both soon fell asleep.

Allison and Gerald, thus left alone, had a long, cozy chat together, until the great clock in the hall struck ten, when the former sprang to her feet.

“That means bedtime for me,” she said, laughing, “and papa is so ridiculously particular about it I suppose I must say good night. What a day this has been!” she added, with a deep sigh; “it is a long, long while since I have had such a lovely time. But for the accident there would have been nothing to mar it—at least after you came.”