A laugh came back from the canoe—and then a question. “Pray, Mr. Bingham, can you tell me where I am? I have quite lost my reckoning in the mist.” He started. How did this mysterious young lady in a boat know his name? “You are at the Red Rocks; there is the bell, that grey thing, Miss—Miss——” “Beatrice Granger,” she put in hastily. “My father is the clergyman of Bryngelly. I saw you when you and Lady Honoria Bingham looked into the school yesterday. I teach in the school.” She did not tell him, however, that his face had interested her so much that she had asked his name. Again he started. He had heard of this young lady. Somebody had told him that she was the prettiest girl in Wales, and the cleverest, but that her father was not a gentleman. “Oh,” he said, taking off his hat in the direction of the canoe. “Isn’t it a little risky, Miss Granger, for you to be canoeing alone in this mist?” “Yes,” she answered frankly, “but I am used to it; I go out canoeing in all possible weathers. It is my amusement, and after all the risk does not matter much,” she added, more to herself than to him. While he was wondering what she meant by that dark saying, she went on quickly: “Do you know, Mr. Bingham, I think that you are in more danger than I am. It must be getting near seven o’clock, and the tide is high at a quarter to eight. Unless I am mistaken there is by now nearly half a mile of deep water between you and the shore.” “My word!” he said. “I forgot all about the tide. What between the shooting and looking for that curlew, and the mist, it never occurred to me that it was getting late. I suppose I must swim for it, that is all.” “No, no,” she answered earnestly, “it is very dangerous swimming here; the place is full of sharp rocks, and there is a tremendous current.” “Well, then, what is to be done? Will your canoe carry two? If so, perhaps you would kindly put me ashore?” “Yes,” she said, “it is a double canoe. But I dare not take you ashore here; there are too many rocks, and it is impossible to see the ripple on them in this mist. We should sink the canoe. No, you must get in and I must paddle you home to Bryngelly, that’s all. Now that I know where I am I think that I can find the way.” “Really,” he said, “you are very good.” “Not at all,” she answered, “you see I must go myself anyhow, so I shall be glad of your help. It is nearly five miles by water, you know, and not a pleasant night.”