“I can’t come back!  There’s nothing to hold on to!  You didn’t fasten me, and now I don’t know where I’m going!” cried Jill, looking from the shore to the treacherous sea that was gently carrying her away.

“Keep cool!  We’ll get a boat and come after you,” roared Frank, before he followed Jack, who had collected his wits and was tearing up the rocks like a chamois hunter.

The bicycle boy calmly sat down to keep his eye on the runaway, calling out from time to time such cheering remarks as “All aboard for Liverpool!  Give my love to Victoria!  Luff and bear away when you come to Halifax!  If you are hard up for provisions, you’ll find an apple and some bait in my coat-pocket,” and other directions for a comfortable voyage, till his voice was lost in the distance as a stronger current bore her swiftly away and the big waves began to tumble and splash.

At first Jill had laughed at his efforts to keep up her spirits, but when the boat floated round a point of rock that shut in the cove, she felt all alone, and sat quite still, wondering what would become of her.  She turned her back to the sea and looked at the dear, safe land, which never had seemed so green and beautiful before.  Up on the hill rustled the wood through which the happy party were wandering to the Chasm.  On the rocks she still saw the crowd all busy with their own affairs, unconscious of her danger.  Here and there artists were sketching in picturesque spots, and in one place an old gentleman sat fishing peacefully.  Jill called and waved her handkerchief, but he never looked up, and an ugly little dog barked at her in what seemed to her a most cruel way.

“Nobody sees or hears or cares, and those horrid boys will never catch up!” she cried in despair, as the boat began to rock more and more, and the loud swash of water dashing in and out of the Chasm drew nearer and nearer.  Holding on now with both hands she turned and looked straight before her, pale and shivering, while her eyes tried to see some sign of hope among the steep cliffs that rose up on the left.  No one was there, though usually at this hour they were full of visitors, and it was time for the walkers to have arrived.

“I wonder if Gerty and Mamie will be sorry if I’m drowned,” thought Jill, remembering the poor girl who had been lost in the Chasm not long ago.  Her lively fancy pictured the grief of her friends at her loss; but that did not help or comfort her now, and as her anxious gaze wandered along the shore, she said aloud, in a pensive tone,—­

“Perhaps I shall be wrecked on Norman’s Woe, and somebody will make poetry about me.  It would be pretty to read, but I don’t want to die that way.  Oh, why did I come!  Why didn’t I stay safe and comfortable in my own boat?”

At the thought a sob rose, and poor Jill laid her head down on her lap to cry with all her heart, feeling very helpless, small, and forsaken alone there on the great sea.  In the midst of her tears came the thought, “When people are in danger, they ask God to save them;” and, slipping down upon her knees, she said her prayer as she had never said it before, for when human help seems gone we turn to Him as naturally as lost children cry to their father, and feel sure that he will hear and answer them.