Stunned, his head throbbing as if it would burst, he made a few spasmodic efforts; then, with a short gasp, he gave up. At that moment the child was snatched from his arms. As he sank, the thought of his own little girls was all that marred the perfect acquiescence with which he felt the cool water closing above his head. This last stroke of fate seemed a mercy. There was a green, blinding light; he felt the water rush into his mouth, and—
When he opened his eyes his first impression was that he was in heaven. Soft, bracing air breathed coolly about him. Under him and above him were smooth linen sheets; his head was pillowed on a soft, firm support. He stretched his legs that he might feel that cool, smooth touch of the fine linen. All smelt so pure and clean. It was different from the noisome atmosphere and grimy surroundings of the East Side.
He soon realized that he was lying in a brass bed, in a small, daintily fitted-up room, and he seemed to be moving along. Oh, how deliciously restful and comforting it was! He put his hand to his head. A linen bandage was wrapped round it, moist with bay rum. How nice that smelled. He drew a long sigh as life came back to him.
"Well, how do you feel now? Are you all right? "
He languidly rolled up his eyes. A young man dressed in white flannels and with a yachting cap on his head was standing looking down on him. He had a pleasant expression, and his voice was quiet but sympathetic.
"I'm all right, but my head feels queer," replied MacDowell, slowly, "Where am I? Is the little girl all right?"
"Yes, she's all right, and not a bit the worse for her ducking, thanks to you," said the young man, heartily. "She wasn't very much scared. 'Badness' has a knack for getting into every kind of a scrape, but she pulls out without serious damage. She is very curious to see the man that pulled her out of the water—says she knows you. They are drying her and fixing her up now. I'm her father, and am very much obliged to you. But we can talk about that later. You're on my yacht. You fainted within a few feet of the shore. It's mighty good you were there, The nurse only got Bingham on the spot in time to snatch Effie out of your arms, and then pull you out. There was no other man around, and the child would his have been— But that's all right now. You struck your head against a rock, but it wasn't a very serious wound. So I had you brought right out here to the yacht and put to bed, as we were going to take a spin down the bay, it's so hot. You lie there till you're perfectly rested. But first I think you'd better take a bite and have something to drink. Are you comfortable?"
"I never—was so comfortable—in my life," said MacDowell, with a solemn slowness which brought a spasmodic smile to the young man's face. He leaned over the bed, pressed an electric button, and gave a low-voiced order to the servant who promptly appeared. After a short while the man returned with a large bottle plunged up to its neck in cracked ice in a silver pail. Then he placed a small table near the bed, and put on it four lamb chops of which the bones terminated in small white rosettes of paper, some little triangular sandwiches, stuffed eggs, and a mold of quivering jelly that looked like a marvelous topaz.
The look with which MacDowell regarded this gastronomic tableau again made his host's facial muscles relax.
"Now, we'll fix you up in bed, and you eat and drink all you want to, and call for anything you have a fancy for besides. Then lie down and sleep some more. If you've got a family we can send them word so that they won't worry. Then a good spin down the bay, and you'll be as fresh as new paint."
"It don't seem right," muttered the stone-cutter, as the young man took a hand at bolstering him up comfortably for an attack on the "spread" before him. His grandmother in the "ould country" had never told John when a child any more startling fairy tale than this experience. Merely to ask for what you wanted, and, presto, to have it! And to sail around in a palace, just to keep cool! The very conditions of the material world seemed altered. The air, the look, the smell, and touch were not what MacDowell had known before. These thoughts ran through his mind as he ate and drank with simple zest. The amber liquid they gave him in a large, flat wine-cup bubbled and sang to him in a small, hissing whisper. It sent life prickling through him. He ate and drank his fill, propped up in the sweet, firm, clean bed, so unlike the sodden mattress on which his bones were wont to turn from bump to bump. At last he wiped mouth with the great square of spot-
