“He evidently doesn’t care to be thanked,” said Tom Gray as Grace returned to where he and Julia stood waiting.

“We had better get home as soon as possible or we’ll all be laid up with colds.”

The three half-frozen young people made their way home as best they could.  Their clothes had frozen stiff, making it impossible for them to hurry.  Julia Crosby said not a word during the walk, but when she left them at the corner where she turned into her own street, she said huskily:  “Thank you both for what you did for me to-day, I owe my life to you.”

“That was a whole lot for her to say,” said Grace.

“She ought to be grateful,” growled Tom.  “She was the cause of all this mess,” pointing to his wet clothes.

“I believe she will be,” said Grace softly, “After all, ’It’s an ill wind that blows no one good.’”

Grace’s mother was justly horrified when Grace, in her bedraggled condition, walked into the living room.  She insisted on putting her to bed, wrapping her in blankets and giving her hot drinks.  Grace fell into a sound sleep from which she did not awaken until evening.  Then she rose, dressed and appeared at the supper table apparently none the worse for her wetting.

Meanwhile Tom Gray had gone to his aunt’s, given himself a brisk rubbing down and changed his wet clothing for another suit he fortunately happened to have with him.  Thanks to his strong constitution and vigorous health, he felt no bad effects.

He then went down to the kitchen, asked the cook for a cup of hot coffee, and, after hastily swallowing it, rushed off to find David, Hippy and Reddy and tell them the news.  He was filled with admiration for Grace.

“She is the finest, most resolute girl I ever knew!” he exclaimed as he finished his story.

“Hurrah for Grace Harlowe!” shouted Reddy.

“Let’s go down to-night and see if she’s all right?” suggested David.

Before seven o’clock the four boys were on their way to the Harlowe’s.  They crept quietly up to the living-room window.  Grace sat by the fire reading.  Very softly they began a popular song that was a favorite of hers.  Grace’s quick ears caught the sound of the music.  She was out of the house like a flash, and five minutes later the four boys were seated around the fire going over the day’s adventure.

“The deaf and dumb man who helped you out is quite a character,” said Hippy.  “I know him well.  He used to work for my father.  He isn’t half so foolish as he looks, either.  As for that wagon you used as a life preserver, I am proud to say that it was once mine.”

“It must have been made especially strong,” observed Reddy.

“It was.  Hickory and iron were the materials used, I believe.  I played with it when but a toddling che-ild,” continued Hippy, “and also smashed three before my father had this one made to order. ’’Twas ever thus from childhood’s earliest hour,’” he added mournfully.  “I always had to have things made to order.”