my tree. Grasping the branch, I let myself swing at arm's length; and then I found that I was at least a foot too near the bank. Edging my way, therefore, still further along the branch, I kicked out in a desperate endeavour to reach the boat, and, the bough swaying with me, caught my toe inside the gunwale, drew it under me, and loosing my grasp, was sprawling upon my hands and knees, but safe aboard. 

 To pick myself up was the work of a moment, yet scarcely had I done so, when Lisbeth opened her eyes, and sitting up, stared about her. 

 "Why—where am I?" she exclaimed. 

 "On the river," I answered cheerfully.  "Glorious afternoon, Lisbeth, isn't it?" 

 "How-in-the-world did you get here?" she inquired. 

 "Well," I answered, "I might say I dropped in as it were." Lisbeth brushed the hair from her temples, and turned to me with an imperious gesture. 

 "Then please take me back at once," she said. 

 "I would with pleasure," I returned, "only that you forgot to bring the oars." 

 "Why, then, we are adrift!" she said, staring at me with frightened eyes, and clasping her hands nervously. 

 "We are," I nodded; "but, then, it's perfect weather for boating, Lisbeth!"  And I began to look about for something that might serve as a paddle. But the stretchers had disappeared long since—the old tub was a sheer hulk, so to speak. An attempt to tear up a floor board resulted only in a broken nail and bleeding fingers; so I presently desisted, and rolling up my sleeves endeavoured to paddle with my hands. But finding this equally futile, I resumed my coat, and took out pipe and tobacco. 

 "Oh, Dick! is there nothing you can do?" she asked, with a brave attempt to steady the quiver in her voice. 

 "With your permission, I'll smoke, Lisbeth." 

 "But the weir!" she cried; "have you forgotten the weir?" 

 "No," I answered, shaking my head; "it has a way of obtruding itself on one's notice—" 

 "Oh, it sounds hateful—hateful!" she said with a shiver. 

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