'I was not drawn!--Mr. Falkirk, what are they about up there,
besides lamenting my absence.'

Mr. Falkirk seemed uneasy. He only looked at the little
speaker, busy with her strawberries, and spoke not, but Rollo
answered instead.

'They are looking over the rocks and endeavouring to compute
the depth to the bottom, with a reference to your probable
safety.' There was a shimmer of light in the speaker's eye.

'If they are taking mathematical views of the subject, they
are in a dangerous way! Mr. Falkirk, it is imperatively
necessary that I should at once rejoin the rest of society,--
will you let yourself be torn from this rock, like a sea
anemone?'

Mr. Falkirk had been for a few minutes taking a minute and
business-like survey of the place.

'I see no way of getting you out, Wych,' he said despondingly,
'without a rope. I must go back for one, I believe, and you
and society must wait.'

'How will _you_ get out, sir?'

'I don't know. If I cannot, I'll send Rollo.'

'Pray send him, sir,--by all means.'