But you are a man and will understand. God be good to you as you have been good to my child; and to her mother
and myself!' As he turned away Pearl, who had now been holding close to
her mother's hand, sprang to him holding up her arms. He raised her up
and kissed her. Then he placed her back in her mother's arms. All at once she broke down as the recollection of danger swept back upon
her. 'Oh, Mother! Mother!' she cried, with a long, low wail, which
touched every one of her hearers to the heart's core. 'The hot blankets are all ready. Come, there is not a moment to be lost. I'll be with you when I have seen the men attended to!' So the mother, holding her in her arms and steadied by two seamen lest
she should slip on the wet and slippery deck, took the child below. Harold was taken by another set of men, who rubbed him down till he
glowed, and poured hot brandy and water into him till he had to almost
use force against the superabundance of their friendly ministrations. For the remainder of that day a sort of solemn gladness ruled on the
_Scoriac_. The Stonehouse family remained in their suite, content in
glad thankfulness to be with Pearl, who lay well covered up on the sofa
sleeping off the effects of the excitement and the immersion, and the
result of the potation which the Doctor had forced upon her. Harold was
simply shy, and objecting to the publicity which he felt to be his fate,
remained in his cabin till the trumpet had blown the dinner call. CHAPTER XXV--A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD


After dinner Harold went back to his cabin; locking himself in, he lay
down on the sofa. The gloom of his great sorrow was heavy on him; the
reaction from the excitement of the morning had come. He was recalled to himself by a gentle tapping. Unlocking and opening
the door he saw Mr. Stonehouse, who said with trouble in his voice:

'I came to you on account of my little child.' There he stopped with a
break in his voice. Harold, with intent to set his mind at ease and to
stave off further expressions of gratitude, replied:

'Oh, pray don't say anything. I am only too glad that I was privileged
to be of service. I only trust that the dear little girl is no worse for
her--her adventure!' 'That is why I am here,' said the father quickly. 'My wife and I are
loth to trouble you. But the poor little thing has worked herself into a
paroxysm of fright and is calling for you. We have tried in vain to
comfort or reassure her. She will not be satisfied without you. She
keeps calling on "The Man" to come and help her. I am loth to put you to
further strain after all you have gone through to-day; but if you would
come--'  Harold was already in the passage as he spoke:

'Of course I'm coming. If I can in any way help it is both a pleasure
and a duty to be with her.' Turning to the father he added:

'She is indeed a very sweet and good child. I shall never forget how she
bore herself whilst we waited for aid to come.' 'You must tell her mother and me all about it,' said the father; much
moved. When they came close to the Stonehouses' suite of rooms they heard
Pearl's voice rising with a pitiful note of fear:

'Where is The Man? Oh! where is The Man? Why doesn't he come to me? He
can save me! I want to be with The Man!' When the door opened and she
saw him she gave shriek of delight, and springing from the arms of her
mother fairly leaped into Harold's arms which were outstretched to
receive her. She clung to him and kissed him again and again, rubbing
her little hands all over his face as though to prove to herself that he
was real and not a dream. Then with a sigh she laid her head on his
breast, the reaction of sleep coming all at once to her. With a gesture
of silence Harold sat down, holding the child in his arms. Her mother
laid a thick shawl over and sat down close to Harold. Mr. Stonehouse
stood quiet in the doorway with the child's nurse peering anxiously over
his shoulder. After a little while, when he thought she was asleep, Harold rose and
began to place her gently in the bunk. But the moment he did so she
waked with a scream. The fright in her eyes was terrible. She clung to
him, moaning and crying out between her sobs:

'Don't leave me! Don't leave me! Don't leave me!' Harold was much
moved and held the little thing tight in his strong arms, saying to her:

'No darling! I shan't leave you! Look in my eyes, dear, and I will
promise you, and then you will be happy. Won't you?' She looked quickly up in his face. Then she kissed him lovingly, and
rested her head, but not sleepily this time, on his breast said:

'Yes! I'm not afraid now! I'm going to stay with The Man!' Presently
Mrs. Stonehouse, who had been thinking of ways and means, and of the
comfort of the strange man who had been so good to her child, said:

'You will sleep with mother to-night, darling. Mr. . . . The Man,' she
said this with an appealing look of apology to Harold, 'The Man will stay
by you till you are asleep . . . ' But she interrupted, not fretfully or
argumentatively, but with a settled air of content:

'No! I'm going to sleep with The Man!' 'But, dear one,' the mother expostulated, 'The Man will want sleep too.' 'All right, mother. He can sleep too. I'll be very good and lie quite
quiet; but oh! mother, I can't sleep unless his arms are round me. I'm
afraid if they're not the sea will get me!' and she clung closer to
Harold, tightening her arms round his neck. 'You will not mind?' asked Mrs. Stonehouse timidly to Harold; and, seeing
acquiescence in his face, added in a burst of tearful gratitude:

'Oh! you are good to her to us all!' 'Hush!' Harold said quietly. Then he said to Pearl, in a cheerful matter-
of-fact way which carried conviction to the child's mind:

'Now, darling, it is time for all good little girls to be asleep,
especially when they have had an--an interesting day. You wait here till
I put my pyjamas on, and then I'll come back for you. And mother and
father shall come and see you nicely tucked in!' 'Don't be long!' the child anxiously called after him as he hurried away. Even trust can have its doubts. In a few minutes Harold was back, in pyjamas and slipper and a dressing-
gown. Pearl, already wrapped in a warm shawl by her mother, held out her
arms to Harold, who lifted her. The Stonehouses' suite of rooms was close to the top of the companion-
way, and as Harold's stateroom was on the saloon deck, the little
procession had, much to the man's concern, run the gauntlet of the thong
of passengers whom the bad weather had kept indoors. When he came out of
the day cabin carrying the child there was a rush of all the women to
make much of the little girl. They were all very kind and no
troublesome; their interest was natural enough, and Harold stopped whilst
they petted the little thing. The little procession followed. Mr. and Mrs. Stonehouse coming next, and
last the nurse, who manifested a phase of the anxiety of a hen who sees
her foster ducklings waddling toward a pond.