“No—­of course we can’t leave him!” said Miss Carter, heavily, as the women went back to the living-room.  She went frantically from window to window.  “It’s stopped raining!” she announced.

“We’ll laugh at this to-morrow,” said Belle.  They went to the door.  A shallow sheet of water, entering, crept in a great circle about their very feet.

“Oh, no—­it’s not to be expected; it’s too much!” Miss Carter cried.  Without an instant’s hesitation she crossed the porch and splashed down the invisible steps.

“I take as great a chance in going as you do in staying,” she said, with chattering teeth.  “If—­if it comes any higher, you’ll swim for it—­won’t you, Belle?”

“Oh, I’d try it with him as a last chance,” Belle answered sturdily.  She held a lamp so that its light fell across the water.  “That’s right.  Keep headed that way!” she said.

“I’m all right!” Miss Carter’s small head was bravely cleaving the smooth dark water.  “I’ll run all the way and bring back help in no time,” she called back.

When the lamp no longer illumined her, Belle went into the house.  The door would not shut, but the water was not visibly higher.  She went in to Timmy’s crib, knelt down beside him, and put her arms about his warm little body.

Meanwhile Timmy’s father and mother, at the hotel, were far from happy.  They stopped for a paper on their way to the opera on Thursday night; and on their return, finding no later edition procurable, telephoned one of the newspapers to ask whether there was anything in the reports that the rivers were rising up round Emville.  On Friday morning Jerry, awakening, perceived his wife half-hidden in the great, rose-colored window draperies, barefoot, still in her nightgown, and reading a paper.

“Jerry,” said she, very quietly, “can we go home today?  I’m worried.  Some of the Napa track has been washed away and they say the water’s being pushed back.  Can we get the nine o’clock train?”

“But, darling, it must be eight now.”

“I know it.”

“Why not telephone to Belle, dear, and have them all come into Emville if you like.”

“Oh, Jerry—­of course!  I never thought of it.”  She flew to the telephone on the wall.  “The operator says she can’t get them—­ they’re so stupid!” she presently announced.

Jerry took the instrument away from her and the little lady contentedly began her dressing.  When she came out of the dressing-room a few moments later, her husband was flinging things into his suitcase.

“Get Belle, Jerry?”

“Nope.”  He spoke cheerfully, but did not meet her eyes.  “Nope.  They can’t get ’em.  Lines seem to be down.  I guess we’ll take the nine.”

“Jerry,”—­Molly Tressady came over to him quietly,—­“what did they tell you?”

“Now, nothing at all—­” Jerry began.  At his tone terror sprang to Molly’s heart and sank its cruel claws there.  There was no special news from Rising Water he explained soothingly; but, seeing that she was nervous, and the nine was a through train, and so on—­and on—­