Joey remembered the deep slanting ditches; to slip into one of them had been a very real danger on that foggy Sunday when she had come back alone from Cousin Greta's; to do so now would be almost certain death. She did her best to splash along faster, though she was beginning to feel decidedly conscious that it was a long time since breakfast, and that she was chilled to the bone. It seemed as though the three of them had been splashing through that cold swirly water for years, and there didn't seem any particular end to it; and what had happened to John? "Where are we going?" she asked dully. "The Round Tower is nearest." She had to look round, as she spoke, to make sure that the tower was there. All the familiar objects looked so different, standing in this vast sea. "Yes, it's nearest, but we won't go there," Gabrielle said, in her sensible way. "You see, though it's uncomfortable and very cold to go wading along like this, we are quite safe on the road till the water is a good bit deeper. To try and get across the Deeps with the floods out would be almost as risky as it would have been to try and cross the river just now when it was pouring across the bridge. If we just keep along quietly we shall come to the turning off to Hesgate Church and Rectory, and we can get shelter there till the tide goes down, or someone comes for us." Gabrielle's matter-of-fact tone had a very cheering effect. She was the smallest of the three, but she was quite the Head of the Lower School just then, and no one thought of disputing her verdict. "What do you think the others are doing?" Joey asked anxiously. She had been afraid to ask that question before, but Gabrielle seemed so undisturbed by the ways of floods that she felt things could not be as bad as they had seemed. "I think they will be quite all right," Gabrielle said. "You see Deeping Royal is used to high tides and things of that sort, and people always take refuge in the churches there. The towers were built frightfully strong on purpose. Miss Conyngham once told us about a big flood, in 1830 it was, I think, and the people had to stay in the twin towers all night, while the great waves surged round. One man was so grateful that he gave a new peal of bells to both towers, and put a text on the biggest bell: 'The flood arose, the stream beat vehemently upon that house and could not shake it.'" "I like that," Joey said. "Yes, wasn't it decent, and he never gave his name either; he was a stranger in Deeping Royal, and he just sent the bells from London when he had got away safely. The Vicar had 'The gift of a grateful heart,' carved below his text on the bell, and they ring a peal every year on the anniversary of the great flood in memory of him. That day comes in the spring; we always get high tides--special tides, you know--at spring and autumn." "Well, this one will have come to its highest pretty soon, I expect," Joey said. "You've got a watch, Gabrielle; what's the time?"