like a jack in the box. “So, this is London, and here we are!”

“Oh, I’ve been so terrified. I telephoned to Burlington when I saw the storm coming and they said that you had started. It—it’s been just awful, awful.” Mr. Fenton splashed through the water to reach her side.

“We’re a bit damp, Belle, but otherwise perfectly fine.”

“I knew you would all be killed—” she insisted.

“But we aren’t,” he assured her again. “Need any assistance, boys?”

“No. We can manage all right,” Jim answered. The rain was coming down with less force and here and there through the darkness showed streaks of yellow light. The boys got Her Highness secured to the pier, and hurried to the house, where they found that Mrs. Fenton was getting out dry garments for them, and a cheery blaze crackled in the wide fireplace, while from the kitchen came the welcome fragrance of the evening meal. They grinned appreciatively at each other and climbed to their own room under the rafters where they changed their wet clothes. When they came down Mrs. Fenton was just putting out the lights because the darkness had lifted, as if by magic, and through the western windows they could see the glow of the evening sunshine.

“Well, what do you know about that!” Bob exclaimed, hardly able to believe the evidence of his own eyes.

“Have we been dreaming, or did we come back from Burlington in the teeth of a rip-snorting gale?” Jim demanded.

“It was no dream,” Mrs. Fenton said fervently. “It was more like a nightmare. I was afraid to switch off the telephone because I expected every minute to get a call telling me that you had been wrecked on the Lake and were all drowned. And, I was afraid to leave the switch connected because I was sure the house would be struck by lightning. My, it wasn’t a dream—not here anyway. Goodness, such a storm. I thought the house would be ripped from its foundations and come tumbling over my head. A tree was struck nearby for—oh, it did crash two different times—something awful. Land sakes alive, you boys must not go up again in such weather—goodness—”

The good lady stopped for breath and to pour glasses of milk out of a huge pitcher, while her husband served the rest of the meal. Mr. Fenton did not seem to have suffered any from his experience, and both boys considered the whole affair a most worth-while adventure.

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