“No, but it might do damage to the garden.” “I hope it won’t; we have such a good start.” Agnes looked out anxiously between the fringes of willows. “We won’t borrow trouble, anyhow,” said Parker, cheerfully. “Best not. Mother used to say that sometimes trouble is a blessing in disguise, and even if the freshet does harm in one direction, it may do good in another.” “That is certainly a cheerful view to take of it,” said Parker, laughing. And he passed on. “Two years since I have seen my mother,” thought Agnes, “and I am seventeen. Oh, when will she come? I wonder if the freshet will be a help or a hindrance to her coming. Ah, it is getting worse! I see the flood is bringing down all sorts of things. I must go down nearer when I have finished this.” Higher and higher rose the flood, all day and all night, and by the next morning river and run were one sheet of tossing, plunging water. The house stood in a little hollow, but beyond it rose a hill which descended precipitously on the other side to the river. Around the foot of the hill wound the run whose farther bank rose again to the edge of the river; the bank, not so high as the opposite one, was now covered. It was sure to be safe on the higher hill. The house was a little above the level of the water, but the garden on the hillside was encroached upon. “It is getting pretty close,” said Parker, as Agnes joined him; “just a little more and I am afraid we shall have to move out.” “Maybe it will stop before that happens,” said Agnes, in reply. “What a lot of things are coming down!” She turned to Polly who had come out to see. “Oh, Polly, see, there is a shed and a lot of furniture, and oh, see, there is a queer-looking raft! There is a man on it. If he should get into that snarl of trees there, it would be bad for him. It is such a little raft. See, he is trying to steer out of the way of those snags! No, he isn’t! Oh, Polly, what is he trying to do?” “Trying to make a fool of himsel’, as near as I can make out. Why doesn’t he try to pole himself out of the way of those stumps? He’s in danger, and if he gets into the middle of the current, he’s gone.” “There’s something on the stump, and he’s trying to get it!” cried Agnes. “What can it be? O dear, dear! and we must stand here without being able to help him.” She looked around for Parker, but he was gone. The snarl of stumps was drifting toward the current, and they could see that the man on the frail little raft was trying his best to keep raft and stumps from midstream. “If he only knew how near he was to the top of the river bank on the other side of the run, he might make it. It’s fair wonderful how he manages; one ’ud think nobody could live in such a rage of waters!” Polly exclaimed. “Look there!” suddenly cried Agnes. “For the land’s sake!” Polly ejaculated. “If there isn’t Park Willett in a boat! If he isn’t foolhardy, I wouldn’t say it. Now what is he going to do?”