“Dearest mamma,” said the latter, coming forward to embrace her, “how glad I am that you are better, and our dear Harold spared to us!” She broke down in sobs and tears.

“Yes, my child; oh, let us thank the Lord for His great goodness!  But this night has been quite too much for you.  Do you go at once and try to get some rest.”

“I shall see that she obeys, mother,” the captain said, in a tenderly sportive tone, taking Elsie’s hand and lifting it to his lips.

“I think I may trust you,” she returned, with a faint smile.  “You were with Bob; how is he now?”

“Doing as well as possible under the circumstances; as is Betty also; you need trouble your kind heart with no fear or care for them.”

It had been a terrible night to all the family—­the children the only ones who had taken any rest or sleep—­and days of nursing followed before the three who had so narrowly escaped death were restored to their wonted health and strength.

Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore and Elsie devoted themselves to that work, and were often assisted in it by Zoe, Edward, and Herbert.

Harold was quite a hero with these last and with Max and Lulu; in fact, with all who knew or heard of his brave deed, though he modestly disclaimed any right to the praises heaped upon him, asserting that he had done no more than any one with common courage and humanity would have done in his place.

Bob and Betty were heartily ashamed of their escapade, and much sobered at the thought of their narrow escape from sudden death.  Both dreaded the severe reproof they had reason to expect from their uncle, but he was very forbearing, and thinking the fright and suffering entailed by their folly sufficient to deter them from a repetition of it, kindly refrained from lecturing them on the subject, though, when a suitable opportunity offered, he did talk seriously and tenderly, with now one and now the other, on the guilt and danger of putting off repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ, reminding them that they had had a very solemn warning of the shortness and uncertainty of life, and asking them to consider the question whether they were ready for a sudden call into the immediate presence of their Judge.

“Really now, uncle,” remarked Bob on one of these occasions, “there are worse fellows in the world than I am—­much worse.”

“I am willing to admit that, my boy,” returned Mr. Dinsmore; “but many of those fellows have not enjoyed the privileges and teachings that you have, and responsibility is largely in proportion to one’s light and opportunities.

“Jesus said, ’That servant, who knew his Lord’s will, and prepared not himself, neither did according to His will, shall be beaten with many stripes.  But he that knew not, and did commit things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes.’”

“Yes; and you think I’m one of the first class, I suppose?”