“I’ll be beside you in a second, Nor,” Wally shouted. “Just keep paddling.” He pulled the clumsy boat frantically up the lough, and let her drop down to Norah, shipping the oars as he reached her. Leaning over, he gripped Timsy firmly. “Hold on to the kid, and I’ll pull you both to the boat,” he said. “Can you catch it?—I’ve got him.” He waited until Norah’s hand gripped the side. “That’s right—let him go. Come on, Timsy.” He hauled the silent small boy into the boat and turned back to Norah. “Hang on to me, old girl—thank goodness we can’t pull this old tub over.” There was a struggle, and Norah came over the side, scrambling in with difficulty. “Is Timsy all right?” “I am, miss,” said a small voice, between chattering teeth. Wally flung off his coat, and wrapped it round the child. “Poor old chap—that will keep the wind off you a bit,” he said. “Norah, get hold of the oars and pull in—you’ll be nearly as quick as I would be, and it will keep you warmer. My Aunt! that kid hung on to the landing-net all the time! Well, you are a good sort, Timsy!” “I dunno why would I let it go,” shivered Timsy. “Bad enough for me to be such an omadhaun, to be falling in—and herself going after me! Me mother’ll be fit to tear the face off me!” “She’ll be too glad to see you alive,” said Wally, reassuringly. “We’ll——” Timsy interrupted him with a cry. He caught Norah’s neglected rod. “Howly Mother, but the fish is in it yet!” he shouted. “Oh, will ye come, please, sir!” They landed the trout between them, Timsy recovering some measure of his self-respect by being allowed to use the net. “He had it nearly swallowed—if he hadn’t, he’d have been gone this long time,” he chattered, watching Wally disengage the hook. “Isn’t it the grand luck we’re in! and he the beautifullest trout! Oh, why would I want to be falling in, and the fish rising!” He looked wistfully at Norah. “Tis all wet ye are, and the day spoilt on ye,” he said, sadly. “You won’t never take me out again, Miss Norah.” “Won’t we just!” said Norah, smiling at him through a tangle of wet hair. “We don’t get out of friends because of a trifle like that, Timsy.” She brought the “Walloping Window-Blind” floundering against the shore. “There! it would warm an iceberg to pull that old tub. Come along, Timsy, and I’ll race you home.” Wally put a detaining hand on her arm as he turned from securing the boat. “Sure you’re all right, Nor?” “Right as—as anything,” said Norah, laughing at the anxious face. “I believe you’re growing careful, Wally—what’s come to you?” “It’s all very well,” said Wally, unhappily. “Do you think it’s jolly for a fellow to see you pitching into a beastly lough? And I’m going home dry, and you and the kid wet. If there was any sense in it I’d jump in and get wet, too!” “Only there isn’t,” said Norah—“and it was lucky for the two wet ones that you were dry in the boat. An old and hardened warrior like you ought to have more common sense.”