I sat in the Splash that day, with Miss Kate Loraine at my side, her dress hanging "slinky" and dripping upon her. Certainly there was nothing sentimental in the affair, for, though I was willing to become a knight errant in a good cause, the situation was so awkward that I could not enjoy it.

Bob Hale was as much in trouble as I was, and he could not tell what to do any better than I could. Neither of us was willing to assume the responsibility of taking the young lady from her home on the strength of her own assertion that her step-mother abused her. There were two sides to every question, and with the brighter example of Mrs. Hale before us, we were not disposed to regard her as a monster without giving her a hearing.

Kate was quite composed again when she found the boat was headed towards Parkville, instead of Cannondale. One thing was very much in her favor; she was not willing to speak evil of the lady who abused her. She had told us no more than was necessary to explain her position. Her demeanor did not indicate any thing malignant in her heart; on the contrary, her conduct exhibited a degree of Christian forbearance which was hardly to be expected of one who had been abused.

"I have heard all about you, Ernest Thornton," said Kate, as the Splash stood over towards Parkville.

"Have you, indeed? I was not aware that I was celebrated enough to be talked about," I laughingly replied.

"You are; and ever since you beat the Champion in the race with the Adieno, I have looked upon you as a hero. I have often wished that I might see you close to."

She was close enough to me now to make me shiver when I looked at her, she was so wet and drabbled.

"Perhaps I am a kind of one-horse hero among the boys," I added, for the sake of saying something.

"And among the girls, too," said she, promptly, if not boldly, though there was a degree of simplicity in her manner which prevented me from giving her words an unfavorable construction. "I have heard them in Cannondale and Parkville tell what a bold, brave fellow you are."

"I am very much obliged to them and to you for the good opinion of me. If you have confidence in me, that will answer my present purpose."

She looked curiously at me; and taking advantage of this favorable current of sentiment, I put the Splash about on the other tack, so that she was again headed towards Cannondale. Bob looked anxiously from Kate to me, and from me to Kate again. He expected another storm of emotion from her, and so did I; but I had decided upon my course, and was fully determined to carry it out, even if it broke the heartstrings of my fair passenger. I was sorry to be so ungallant as to resist the will of a young lady, but my conscience would not let me interfere with the domestic arrangements of Mrs. Loraine, without giving her a chance to defend herself.

"They say you are a smart boy, Ernest Thornton," added she, apparently without noticing the change in the course of the boat.

"Perhaps I am—I don't know," I replied; "I am afraid if I take you over to Parkville, people will think I am smarter than I ever was before."

"Why?" asked she, bestowing a painfully anxious glance upon me.

"Don't you think it would be rather smart for Bob Hale and me to run away with a young lady like you?"

"Run away with me!" exclaimed she, with a troubled look.

"What should we do with you after we had landed you?"

"O, I won't give you any trouble at all—not a bit."

"We don't mind the trouble, Miss Loraine; we were only thinking what would become of you."

"I have an uncle in New York city—my father's brother. If I can only get to him, it will be all I want," she answered, and her future course seemed to be clear enough to her.

"But how will you get to New York?" I asked.

"I don't know; I would rather walk than stay at Cannondale any longer."

"Haven't you written to your uncle?" asked Bob.

"No; I don't know what his first name is; and Mrs. Loraine won't let me write any letters. I wrote one once, and directed it to Mr. Loraine, New York, but she burnt it up."

"Do you think you could find him?"

"I am sure I could. I would call on every one of that name in the city. Why, Ernest Thornton! You are going back to Cannondale!" exclaimed Kate, as she happened to glance ahead, and saw the shore not far distant.

"Don't be alarmed, Miss Loraine. Just now you said I was a hero, and a smart boy, and all that sort of thing. My friend Bob Hale, here, is as smart and as much of a hero as I am, I assure you. Between us two we will do what we can for you," I interposed when she began to exhibit signs of another outbreak of emotion.

"That's so!" added Bob, decidedly; and he was always ready to back up any thing I said or did.

"Now keep cool, Miss Loraine," I continued. "Don't be a bit afraid, and Bob and I will see you through, if we have to stand on our heads and walk through fire and water to do it."

"You are very kind, and I am very much obliged to you," replied she, with a shudder, as she glanced at the pier, a quarter of a mile off, on which Mrs. Loraine was still standing. "But don't make me go there again."

"Now, Miss Loraine, you must be reasonable," said I, in the gentlest tone I could command, albeit I was not much accustomed to the refinements of young ladies' society. "It would not be right for Bob and me to carry you away from your home. People would think hard of us."

"Then I don't want you to do it," she replied, in tones of resignation.

"We don't know any thing about the affairs at your house."

"I have told you the truth."

"We do not doubt that; but you only say that Mrs. Loraine is not kind to you."

"She is not."

"Do you mean that she abuses you?"

"I do mean that," replied Kate, with some hesitation, which evinced an unwillingness to acknowledge the fact.

"What has she done to you?"

"She locks me up in one of the attic rooms for weeks together," she replied, bursting into tears.

"Don't cry, Kate; what does she lock you up for?" asked Bob, when I paused.

"I suppose I am very naughty, sometimes, but I can't help it," sobbed she.

"Then she locks you up to punish you for being naughty—does she?"

"Yes."

Bob looked significantly at me, as much as to say that he did not wish to have anything to do with "rescuing" a young miss who had been shut up for being naughty.

"If she would only be kind to me sometimes, I could bear it all. If she only smiled on me even once a month, I think I should not complain. But, O, it is so terrible to be locked into your chamber, and stay there day after day for a whole week!" moaned she, with a convulsive quiver.

"When did she lock you up last?" continued Bob, who had taken the investigation into his own hands, when Kate showed a willingness to answer.

"About a week ago."

"A week ago? I thought you said she kept you in your room for a week?"

"So she does, and she only let me out this forenoon."

"What did she lock you up for last time?"

"For taking such long stitches hemming her handkerchief."

"For taking long stitches!" exclaimed Bob, with something like horror in his tones. "Did she shut you up for a week for this?"

"She did; and she fastened the blinds of the chamber so that I could not open them."

"Did you refuse to take short stitches?" I asked, fearing there might be some aggravating circumstances.

"No, I did not, indeed. I hemmed the handkerchief just as I