rose the water, till it was above her waist, and still every movement
made it rise.

'I'm drowning,' screamed Biddy. 'Oh, help me, help me! Man in the
lighthouse, can't you hear me? Oh, oh, oh!'

Biddy fortunately had good lungs and her screams carried well. But the
water kept rising, or rather she kept slipping farther down. She was
losing her head now, and had not the sense to stand still, and she was
partly stupefied by cold. It would have gone badly with her but
for--what I must now tell you about.

It was what would be called, I suppose, a curious coincidence, the sort
of chance, so to say--though 'chance' is a word without real
meaning--that many people think only happens in story-books, in which
I do not at all agree, for I have known in real life far stranger
coincidences than I ever read of--well, it was by a very fortunate
coincidence that that very afternoon Bridget's father happened to be at
the lighthouse. He had gone out there by a sudden thought of Mr.
Mildmay's, the Portscale clergyman I told you of, who had mentioned in
talking that he had not been there for some time.

'And it is a very fine mild day,' he said. 'It doesn't take twenty
minutes in a boat. If you don't think it would hurt you, Mr. Vane?'

Mr. Vane was delighted. There was a good deal of the boy about him
still; he loved anything in the shape of a bit of fun, and he loved
boating. So off the two came, and were most pleasantly welcomed by old
Tobias and his second-in-command at the lighthouse. And by another happy
chance, just as Biddy began to wade, Mr. Vane had come to the side of