Danny reached over and patted her on the arm confidentially. "Ah, now, Rosie, what if we was all to get drownd-ed? You know it happened wance. Noah was the gintleman's name. From all accounts 'twas a fearful experience. But 'twas a long time ago, and since then any number of us have escaped. Why, Rosie dear, I've never yet been drownd-ed meself, and in me young days I was mighty fond of the wather. So cheer up, darlint, for the chances are that Jackie'll come out all right." Rosie dried her eyes listlessly. It seemed to her they were all in conspiracy against her. Yes, she was sure of it. CHAPTER VII HOW TO KEEP A DUCK OUT OF WATER Jack was home in good time for supper. "Ah, now, do you see, Rosie?" Her mother pointed to him in triumph. "It's just as I told you. Here he is safe and sound. But, Jackie dear, mind now: the next time don't ye go into the deep water until ye know how to swim." Ellen glanced at him amusedly. "Been in swimmin', kid?" To Rosie the question seemed both stupid and inane, for Jack's face had a clean, varnished look that was unmistakable, and his hair had dried in stiff, shiny streaks close to his head. He was hungry and ate with zest, but he said little and carefully avoided Rosie's eye. Very soon after supper he slipped off quietly to bed. Rosie did not pursue him. She was waiting for George Riley, upon whom she was pinning her last hope. Presently he came but, before she had time to get his advice, she was hurried upstairs by Jackie himself, who called down in urgent, tearful tones: "Rosie! Oh, Rosie! Come here! Please come! Come quick!" The little front bedroom with its sloping walls and one dormer window was Ellen's room, theoretically. Actually, Rosie shared Ellen's bed, and Jack's little cot stood at the bottom of the bed between the door and the bureau. Rosie felt hurriedly for matches and candle. "Now, Jackie dear, what's the matter? You're not sick, are you? Tell Rosie." "It hurts! It hurts!" Jack was sitting up, wailing dolefully. He reached toward Rosie in a helpless, appealing way that warmed her heart. Whatever was the matter, it was bringing him back to her. "What is it hurts, Jackie?" "My back! It burns! I tell you it's just burnin' up!" Rosie gently lifted off his nightshirt and held the candle close. "Jackie! What's happened to your back and shoulders? They're all red and swollen! What did those Slattery boys do to you?" "They didn't do nuthin', Rosie, honest they didn't. Ouch! Ouch! Can't you do something to make it stop hurting?" "Wait a minute, Jackie, and I'll call Jarge Riley. Jarge'll know what to do." George came at once and as quickly recognized Jack's ailment. "Ha, ha, Jack, old boy, how's your sunburn? Jiminy, you've got a good one this time!... Say, how's the water?" [Illustration: Rosie gently lifted off his nightshirt and held the candle close.]