“Well done, well done!” the squire exclaimed.  “They have dragged up three of them.  I don’t know whether there are any more.”

“Yes, yes, look!” Aggie cried; “there, out in the waves—­there, I can see a head.  That’s just about where I was nearly drowned.  Oh, grandpapa, take me away, I can’t look at it.”

“There’s someone going out to save him, Aggie.  Listen to the cheer.”

Aggie looked again.

“Oh, grandpapa, stop him, stop him!” she cried, “it’s James.”

But at the same moment the plunge was made, and the figure lost to sight.

Aggie threw her arms round her grandfather, and hid her face.

“I can’t look, I can’t look,” she cried.  “Tell me about it.”

“There, he is up; bravo!” the squire exclaimed, almost as excited as she was.  “He has dived again, dear,”—­then, after a pause—­“there he is close to him.  He has got him, Aggie!  Now he is waving his hand; now they are tightening the rope; now he is waving his hand again, and they are waiting.  There!”

There was a pause, which seemed to the girl to be endless, then the squire cried: 

“They have got them out, both of them;” and a loud cheer broke from all standing round.

“Come along, grandpapa, let us go down to them.”

“Stay a moment, my dear.  They may be hurt.  It’s better you should not go.”

The girl stood, with her hands clasped, gazing at the fishermen grouped on the shore, stooping over the prostrate figures.  Then one of them stood up and waved his hand, and the spectators knew that all was well.  Then the girl ran down to join them.

“Why, Aggie!” James exclaimed in astonishment, as she pressed forward.  “Why, my dear, what brings you here in this storm?  Whatever will the squire say?”

“The squire has brought her down himself,” Mr. Linthorne said, following closely behind his granddaughter; “and he is glad he did, James, for she has seen a grand sight.

“You are a fine fellow;” and he wrung the lad’s hand.

“A grand fellow, Wilks, isn’t he?”

“I always said so, squire,” the old soldier said, his face beaming with satisfaction; “but now, let us get him home, and Aggie, too.  The child will be blown away.”

But, for a minute or two, they could not carry James off, so closely did the men and women press round him, and shake him by the hand.  At last they got him away, and, escorted by a crowd of cheering boys, led him back to his mother’s.

“Your son is a hero, Mrs. Walsham!” the squire exclaimed as they entered; “but don’t talk to him now, but mix him a glass of hot grog.

“Wilks, you get him between the blankets directly.  I will tell his mother all about it, while she is mixing the grog.

“Hallo, Aggie!  Why, bless the child, she’s fainted.”

The girl had borne up till they reached the house, towards which the wind had blown her along, as she clung to her grandfather’s arm; but the excitement had been too much for her, and, the instant they entered the room, she had dropped into an armchair, and at once lost consciousness.