"Don't talk nonsense," was Rowles's reply, as he obeyed a call to the lock. "We've been too kind; and if Thomas Mitchell had taken to any sensible business that did not keep him up all night, thereby breaking down his health, he would be able to support his family, and there would be no need for us to bother ourselves with such a cross-grained girl as that. Now, Phil, off to your digging again. Yes, gents, I know; how they do keep calling out for one, to be sure!" Philip went out to the kitchen-garden. Within a few minutes his voice was heard, loudly raised. "Here! Father! Mother! Emily! Come quick! Just look here!" All three responded to his call "Whatever is the matter?" "Why, look there! The boat is gone!" "So she is! Well, I never!" and Mr. Rowles stared blankly at the post to which his boat was usually moored. "Someone has made off with the _Fairy_. That beats everything!" Mrs. Rowles was wringing her hands. "Oh, dear, dear, dear! This is worse than I expected. She never will come home again safe!" "No," said the lock-keeper, "them that has took her are not likely to send her back; and if so be as she has drifted down by accident she will be drawn over Banksome Weir and be smashed. I'm glad she is only an old, worn-out thing." "An old, worn-out thing!" cried Mrs. Rowles, quite wildly. "A poor, dear child of twelve! What are you thinking of?" "I was thinking of the _Fairy_. You don't mean, wife--" and he grew more serious--"you don't mean that you think the child was in her?" "That is what I do think, Ned." "Well, that is bad." "And see," cried Phil, "she must have taken the sculls, for they are gone too. I know Juliet thought she could manage a boat; she said so the other day." Emily was crying. Mr and Mrs. Rowles looked at each other in an agony. They knew pretty well what must happen to Juliet alone in a boat. She would be carried rapidly down stream, and the current would draw the little bark to the weir, and over the weir, and it would be dashed about by the swirling rush of water, capsized, and its occupant thrown out. And nothing more would be seen of poor Juliet but a white, lifeless body carried home. Oh, it was too sad to think of! "What can we do? What can we do? What would her own mother do?" "Hope for the best, Emma," said Mr. Rowles. "If I had another boat I would send Phil down to look for her. Perhaps the next boat that goes through would let him jump into the bows." "I might run down the towing-path," said Phil. "I can run pretty quick." "And if you did see her in the _Fairy_ out in mid-stream, how could you get near enough to help her? No; the only chance will be to ask some of them to take you down in their boat. Here they come; both ways."