Old Tobias had hot blankets down before the fire and a steaming tumbler
of brandy and water ready in no time. Biddy, deposited in front of the
grate, sat up and looked about her in a dazed sort of way. She felt as
if she were dreaming.

'Biddy,' said her father, 'you must take off the wettest of your things
at once.'

Biddy began to finger her garments.

'My frock's the worst,' she said; 'and oh, where's my hat gone?'

'Never mind your hat, child,' said Tobias. 'Here, step this way,' and he
led her to a sort of partition in the corner of the room, behind which
was his own bed; 'take off your things, my dear, and get into bed with
this blanket round you whiles I sees to the gentleman. You'll be none
the worse of your drenching: salt water's a deal better for not catching
cold. It's the gentleman we must see to. It's the new rector, and a
delicate gentleman he is.'

Biddy stared up at him.

'It's my papa,' she said.

It was the old man's turn to stare now.

'Your papa!' he exclaimed. He had never dreamt but that Biddy was a
Seacove child, tempted out too far by the fine afternoon--a fisherman's
or boatman's daughter. But however curious he was to hear more, he had