drew away from him and leaned over the stern of the boat. I suppose she was blind and dizzy; but, at any rate, she lost her balance and fell head-first into the brook, which was deep enough, even by the shore, to drown a man. It was done so quickly that nobody had time to stop her. Jack Snow reached out as far as he could and clutched the hem of her cambric dress; but it slipped through his fingers, and the child sank down, down to the very bottom.

"Hullo there!" screamed the boy, as if that could do the least good!

Preston plunged into the water. He did not know how to swim much; but he never stopped to think of himself, he must save his darling sister. O, where was she? Why didn't she rise to the surface? He had heard his father say that people did not drown till they had risen at least once. Perhaps you, who know of Flaxie's taking poison, can guess why she did not rise. She had fainted away!

Preston dived, but came up without her. She had gone out of his reach. When he rose, he said to himself,—

"I'll never go home without my darling sister! If she drowns, I'll drown!"

"Jump into the boat," screamed the boys. "It's no use; you can't get her!"

"Yes, I will," said Preston, and dived again. That time, without knowing it, he almost touched Flaxie, lying still as a log, ten feet below.

When he came up, the boys reached after him and pulled him into the boat. He struggled with all his might; but it was two against one, and he could not help himself.

"Oogle, oogle, goggle!" screamed he; for his mouth was so full of water that he could not speak.

"Pat him on the back," said Jack Snow, always ready with advice.

"Oogle, oogle, oggle, goggle!" cried Preston, striking out both arms, and determined to dive again; but the boys held him fast. If they had not held him, he would certainly have drowned, but he could not have saved Flaxie. He had courage enough, and will enough for a grown man; but, alas, his strength was only that of a little boy.

And what could be done? Bert Abbott ran up the bank, screaming for help. Was all the world deaf? If those boys had never prayed before, they prayed now. "Help us, help us, O God, won't you help us? Send somebody to save Flaxie!"

It was quite five minutes—so I am told—that the child lay in that brook before any help came. At last a man, who was going by, heard the outcry, and thought it sounded like something more than boys' play. He ran to the spot; and, as he could swim, he soon had Flaxie out of the water; but, whether dead or alive, that was the question.

There she lay in his arms, as still as a stone. The water dripped from her beautiful flaxen hair, from the tips of her white fingers, from her dimpled chin; but not an eyelash stirred, and her little heart had ceased to beat.

"The poor thing is clean gone, no mistake about that," thought the man, putting his lips to Flaxie's cold mouth.

"Rub her! Roll her! Run for father!" shouted Preston, flinging himself upon his lifeless sister, and kissing her wildly.

"Here, boys, you run ahead and get the doctor, and I'll carry her to the house as quick as I can," said Mr. Bond.

"Don't take on so," added he, soothingly to Preston. "Folks do come to, sometimes, and live, when they look as far gone as she does."

He said this from the kindness of his heart; but in reality he had very little hope of Flaxie. Dr. Gray had scarcely any hope either: he thought she had been in the water too long.

Ever so many men and women worked over the child for hours and hours: Dr. Papa and mamma among the rest, of course; and even Grandpa Pressy helped a little, though his hands trembled, and he was very pale. It did not seem to be of the least use; still, they kept trying.

"O, you dear, beautiful baby," said Mrs. Gray, the tears falling over her cheeks, "it is so hard to give you up!"

Dr. Papa held his cold little darling, his "Pinky Pearly," to his heart; but he could not speak a word.

But, just as they were all giving her up, she was seen to breathe, very, very softly.

"Saved!" whispered Dr. Papa.

"Saved!" echoed mamma.

"Thank God!" said Grandpa Pressy.

How did Preston feel when his dear sister slowly opened her blue eyes? He would have given his life for her,—was he glad she was saved? Ah, was he glad, the noble boy?

In a few minutes Dr. Papa knew the whole story: he found out that Flaxie had been taking poison.

"Now I understand it all," said he. "She fainted away before she fell into the brook. If she had not fainted she could not have lived so long under the water."

"Was that what made her lie so still?" asked Preston. "If she had moved a little I might have pulled her out; but she wouldn't move, and I couldn't reach her."

"You tried your best, my son," said the doctor, laying his hand on Preston's head. "It makes me happy to think my little girl has such a brother!"

III.

THE KNITTING-WORK PARTY.

Flaxie recovered from this accident a great deal sooner than Grandpa Pressy did. Somehow, the shock of seeing his "little boy" lying so white and cold made grandpa ill. He was so ill, in fact, that Dr. Gray sent for grandma.

It was very pleasant having grandma in the house; and her dear old husband began to feel better the moment he saw her.

"Dear little Mary, how do you do?" said she to Flaxie, who was lying on the bed. Flaxie made no answer, except to put out her tongue.

"Can't you speak to grandma?" said Ninny.

"No: I'm a doctor's chillen, and doctor's chillen always puts out their tongues," replied Flaxie, showing it again.

"It doesn't look very sick," said grandma, laughing.

"Then what makes my mamma keep me in bed?" whined Flaxie. "I don't want to be in my nightie. I want to be in my pretty dress, and sit in your lap."

"She is very, very cross," said Ninny to grandma, with a patient smile, as they left the room.

"Perhaps we can amuse her," replied grandma; and next morning she gave her some bright worsted to make her doll, Miss Peppermint Drop, a scarf.

Flaxie was well pleased, for awhile, tying the worsted into knots and putting it over the needles; but it soon tired her.

"O gramma, the needles won't knit: they're crooksey needles," said she.

"Well, come sit in my lap, dear, and I'll tell you a story about a knitting-work party, that I had a great, great while ago, when I was about as old as Julia."

"That's a funny party, I should fink," said Flaxie, curling her head down on her grandma's shoulder.

"A knitting-work party, did you say?" asked Ninny, preparing to listen.

"Well, yes. You know girls in those times didn't have so many parties as they do now," replied grandma; "and I had been wanting this one for weeks and weeks before I even dared ask my mother about it. When I did ask her, she said,—

"'Why, Polly, don't you see how much spring-work I have to do? How can I stop to cook a supper for a dozen little girls?'

"'O, but I'll cook it myself,' said I. 'I can make gingerbread and cup-custards.'

"'And what will you do for bread?' said she.

"I didn't think there would be any trouble about that. 'There was always bread enough,' I said. 'Little girls didn't eat