Next day, when the conductor of the railroad train came to Miss Sullivan for her fare, she transferred her purse from her bag to the pocket of her travelling dress. As she did so, she felt an unfamiliar object. It proved to be the book she had taken from the drowning man’s hand, and, without thinking, dropped into her pocket. It had been protected by a covering of oiled silk. The stitches in drying had given way and the book was slipping out. She thought there could be no harm in her opening it. It was an old, well-worn Testament. On the title-page was the inscription “M. Janeway to I. Waddy.” It was very touching to think of this drowning man clinging to the last to this emblem of his religion, and perhaps token of an early love. No doubt it was in sympathy with some such thought as this that Miss Sullivan’s hands began suddenly to tremble, and her eyes to fill with tears as she turned over the sacred pages. The book opened naturally in her hand at a familiar passage; she read a few lines; then the hot tears blinded her and she put the book hastily away. CHAPTER VII A PEPPERY INVALID WHO DREAMS DREAMS AND BRINGS BAD NEWS In the morning Mr. Waddy awaked, and, looking feebly around, discovered Mrs. Dempster. “Where is the other?” he asked, half rising and falling back disappointed. Mrs. Dempster called her daughter. Miranda came, splendidly fresh from her morning’s duties in full air, and her tawny locks shaken about in dishevelled luxuriance. “Not you,” said Mr. Waddy, shrinking a little from her lioness aspect. “I want the other. She had a tarpaulin and yellow canvas clothes the first time, and then I saw her again here--I am sure it was here. Here! Where am I?” He stopped and looked about him wildly. “Why, you’re in my house,” responded Mrs. Dempster soothingly, “an’ I hope you’ll make yerself to hum. You’ve been drownded an’ that was Miss Sullivan that found you. Ef she hadn’t been kind er cur’us about goin’ out to see how a storm feels, massy knows where you’d be now.” “Miss Sullivan?” repeated Mr. Waddy. “There is no one of that name who would take any trouble for me.” “She did take a sight er trouble, though,” said the old lady, “an’ some folks’d be more thankful for ’t than you seem to be. ’Tain’t every city lady that’ll go wadin’ ’round an’ resk drownin’ herself to haul out a man. Some of them other gals would ’a’ sat down an’ screamed.” “Madam,” said Mr. Waddy, with weak testiness, “I am not acquainted with Miss Sullivan and did not ask her to save me.” “Wal, now!” said Mrs. Dempster to herself. “Sakes alive! What an ongrateful critter! I can’t stan’ it; but I s’pose he’s sick and onreasonible.” So saying she marched out, and clattering pans soon banged a warlike accompaniment to her murmured wrath. Miranda remained, and Mr. Waddy turned to her in a despairing search for information. “You are sure that person in the tarpaulin was Miss Sullivan?” he questioned. “Sullivan, I think you said?” Miranda nodded.