At last, in the dawn, the owner of the runaway boat came down to the beach and missed his property. In an instant the truth flashed on him. The children and the boat must have gone away together. He sent for Walsh and Lally, who had just returned from different quarters, hoping to hear when they arrived at the house that the children had already got home. "They're drowned," said the man. "My boat's gone with them, and where would it be but to the bottom of the sea in that storm?" "Then you may go up to the house yourself with that news," said Walsh; "for it's not me that's goin' to carry it." "Nor me," said Lally. The three men stood gazing out to sea with tears in their eyes. Bridget, looking as white as a ghost, appeared and joined them. "Nancy has to stay with Madam," she said. "She's at her wits' end to know what to tell her next. For heaven's sake, is there no news at all from anywhere?" The men looked at her. They did not like to say, "It's your fault", so they only shook their heads. Presently Walsh said: "There's a boat missin'." Bridget screamed, and began to beat her breast and clap her hands. "Whisht! will you," said the boatman. "We're bad enough without that. Give us peace to think a bit. If they were drowned they would ha' been washed in by this. The early tide would ha' brought them, for the boat couldn't carry them far without upsettin'." "I'll run away! I'll run away!" shouted Bridget. "Run then," said Lally. "It isn't you we're thinkin' of, but the poor ould lady, and the father and mother that's out in Africa." At this moment a white speck appeared on the sea. A ray of sunlight had struck across the twilight and made it visible; then something larger and darker was seen behind it moving with it. "Would it be a boat?" said Lally, as all eyes were strained watching this appearances. "Then you may well ask, for a boat it is!" said the boatman. "If it isn't the angels that's bringin' them childher home, by my word, I don't know what it is!" A few more minutes of eager watching assured them that Terry and Turly were returning, if not visibly in the custody of angels, at least in the care of two sturdy oarsmen, who were pulling towards the shore. As they came near enough to be well seen and heard the children stood up in the boat and cheered and waved their handkerchiefs to their friends. Bridget waited for no more, but ran with the good news to the House. Poor old Nancy had made an excuse to get away from Madam for a few minutes and was leaning against the door-post, scarcely able to stand, and with a face of the most intense misery. When she saw Bridget running towards her, waving her apron, she knew the news must be good. "They're all right!" screamed Bridget, ever so far away. "They're comin'! They're comin'!"