“Rose! —­ do not dare speak to me in that way! —­ ever again! —­ whatever else you do.  I will leave you to get back your senses.”

With very prompt and decided action, Miss Haye sought her rowing gloves in her own room, put them on, and went down to the rocks where the Merry-go-round lay.  She stopped not to look at anything; she loosened the boat and pushed out into the water.  And quick and smartly the oars were pulled, till the skiff was half way over the river towards Mr. Underhill’s house.  Suddenly there they stopped.  Elizabeth’s eyes were bent on the water about two yards from the stern of the boat; while the paddles hung dripping, dripping more and more slowly, at the sides, and the little skiff floated gently up with the tide.  But if Elizabeth’s eyes were looking into nature, it was her own; her face grew more settled and grave and then sorrowful every minute; and at last the paddle-handles were thrown across the boat and her arms and her head rested upon them.  And the little skiff floated gently up stream.

It had got some distance above Mr. Underhill’s, when its mistress lifted her head and looked about, with wet eyelashes, to see where she was.  Then the boat’s head was turned, and some steady pulling brought her to the gravelly beach in front of Mr. Underhill’s house.  Its owner was luckily there to help her out.

“Well, I declare that’s clever of you,” said he, as he grasped the bow of the little vessel to draw it further up.  “I didn’t much expect you’d come when I asked you.  Why you can row, real smart.”

“I don’t see how I am going to get out, Mr. Underhill.”

“Step up on there, can’t you —­ I’ll hold her, —­ can you jump?” —­

“But Mr. Underhill, that’s going to do no good to my boat. —­”

“What aint? —­”

“That gravel —­ grating and grinding on it, as the tide makes.”

“‘Twon’t do nothin’ —­ it’ll just stay still so.  Well, you go in and speak to mother, and I’ll see to her.  I didn’t know you could row so smart, —­ real handsome!”

“I learnt a good while ago,” said Elizabeth.  “I’ll not be gone long, Mr. Underhill.”

Up the neglected green slope she ran, wondering at herself the while.  What new steps were these, which Miss Haye was not taking for her own pleasure.  What a strange visit was this, which her heart shrank from more and more as she neared the house door.

The house was tenanted by sundry younger fry of the feminine gender, of various ages, who met Elizabeth with wonder equal to her own, and a sort of mixed politeness and curiosity to which her experience had no parallel.  By the fireside sat the old grandam, very old, and blind, as Elizabeth now perceived she was.  Miss Haye drew near with the most utter want of knowledge what to do or say to such a person, —­ how to give the pleasure she had come to give.  She hoped the mere fact of her coming and presence would do it, for to anything further she felt herself unequal.  The old lady looked up curiously, hearing the noise of entering feet and a stranger’s among them.