Lulu was standing on the piazza, as the three other children approached the Bells' cottage, Winifred pushing the go-cart this time, and Betty holding a parasol over Jack's head. Instead of calling out a cheerful greeting as usual, however, she ran hastily and silently down the steps, and met them halfway across the lawn.

"We mustn't make any more noise than we can help," she said softly. "Poor Aunt Daisy has a dreadful headache. It came on all of a sudden, and she's gone to lie down. She says it may go away by and by if she can get a nap. Her room is right over the piazza, so we mustn't disturb her."

The children all expressed their sympathy and regret.

"Shall we go down on the beach and play?" Betty suggested.

Lulu looked doubtful.

"It's pretty hot down there," she objected, "and besides, we were there all the morning. We might go for a drive, only Thomas is so fussy, he never will harness the horses unless somebody grown up tells him to. Jane's ironing, so she can't take us anywhere. I'll tell you what we might do though"—with a sudden inspiration—"we might go down to the river and play shipwreck. That old boat that's fastened to the dock is just great to play shipwreck in. It's quite easy to get into it, even Jack could manage it all right, and I'd bring one of the cushions off the piazza to make him comfortable."

"Are you sure it's quite safe?" inquired cautious Betty, looking doubtful.

"Oh, yes, it's all right. We were in it the day the Rossiters were here, and papa saw us. It's fastened to the dock by a chain. Nothing could possibly happen. Come along; it's lovely and cool down there by the river, and if we stay here we shall be sure to forget and talk loud, and that will disturb Aunt Daisy."

"Oughtn't we ask some one first?" Winifred suggested.

"There isn't any one to ask. Papa and mamma are in New York, and Aunt Daisy's asleep. Jane wouldn't know, and she always makes a fuss about things she doesn't understand. If it hadn't been all right, papa would have said so when the Rossiters were here."

This seemed a practical argument, and although Betty still felt a little uncomfortable about the wisdom of the proceeding, she made no further objections, and five minutes later the little party were standing on the dock. It was, as Lulu had said, very easy to step into the old rowboat, which, indeed, looked safe enough even to Betty, being fastened to the dock by a long chain. With a little help from the girls, Jack succeeded in crawling over the side, and was made comfortable in the stern, while the others settled themselves on the benches.

"Isn't it perfectly lovely here?" cried the little boy enthusiastically, dabbling his hands in the cool water. "I was never in a boat like this before."

"Of course it's lovely," said Lulu in a tone of unqualified satisfaction; "I told you it would be. It's much nicer than on that hot piazza, or on the beach either."

"There are mosquitoes," Winifred remarked, flapping vigorously about her head with her handkerchief. "Mosquitoes always do bite me most dreadfully."

"That's because you're so sweet," said Lulu. "Try not to think about them, and then you won't mind. Aunt Daisy says if only people wouldn't think about disagreeable things, they would be a great deal happier."

"Look, look; I can make the boat rock," cried the excited Jack.

"Oh, isn't it fun?"

"Now," said Lulu, as usual taking the initiative; "we are a party of shipwrecked people, escaping in a lifeboat from a sinking ship. We are away out in the middle of the ocean. All the other people in the ship have been drowned, and we have escaped in the only boat there was. I am a widow lady traveling with my little boy. You are my little boy, Jack, and you are very ill. You must put your head in my lap, and keep your eyes shut as if you were suffering a great deal. Winifred is our faithful maid, who has been everywhere with us, and has divided her last ship biscuit with us."

"And what am I?" inquired Betty, beginning to enter the spirit of the new game. "Don't make the boat rock quite so hard, Jack, dear, please."

"You are the kind old sailor, who has saved us all. Some bad men on the ship wanted to take this lifeboat, and leave us to drown, but you shot them all down, and now you are taking us to an inhabited island you know about. We have been three days without food, and without seeing a sail, but I have promised that if you will bring us safely to land I will make you very rich."

"Are you very rich yourself?" inquired Betty.

"Of course, I'm a very great lady. No, I think I will be a princess; that will be nicer, and when people do brave things I make them my knights."

"But there aren't any knights now," Winifred objected.

"Well, then, it isn't now; it's a long time ago, about the time of Queen Elizabeth, I guess. Now come on, let's begin."

The next half-hour was one of the most delightfully exciting periods the children had ever enjoyed. Lulu's vivid imagination carried them all along with it, and even practical Betty forgot everything else in the interest of the shipwreck. Jack played the suffering child to perfection; moaned pitiously, and implored his mother in feeble whispers for a crust of bread or a drop of water. The food was all gone, Lulu said, but Winifred endeavored to procure the desired water by dipping her hands in the river, and splashing salt water over Jack's face. Some of it ran into his eyes, which was not pleasant, but Jack was too polite to complain. Betty spoke words of encouragement and cheer, while she scanned the horizon through an imaginary telescope. Lulu hung over her suffering child, soothing his woes by the tenderest caresses and promising innumerable purses filled with gold to Betty and Winifred, as rewards for their faithful services, if ever they should reach the shore alive.

"There's a dreadful storm coming up," announced Lulu, suddenly glancing up at the cloudless blue sky, and beginning to wave her arms frantically. "We shall be drowned, I know we shall. Make the boat rock as much as you can, Betty, so it will seem as if the sea was getting rough. Oh, what will become of us? Do you think we shall all perish, sailor?"

"Can't say; hope not," said Betty, who had an idea that all sailors spoke in short, jerky sentences.

"You'll save us if you possibly can, won't you?" said Winifred, who was playing so hard that she was almost frightened.

"Will if I can," returned Betty in the deepest growl she could assume.

"Oh, Lulu, please let us see a sail pretty soon," urged Jack. "I'm getting so tired of keeping my eyes shut, and it seems so dreadfully real."

"Oh, yes, we shall see one before long," said Lulu reassuringly. "It'll come just at the last awful moment; it always does in books."

At that moment a sudden burst of sunshine dazzled all their eyes.

"Why, how funny," exclaimed Betty, forgetting her nautical manner, and speaking in her natural voice; "I wonder what makes it sunny all at once. It was nice and shady a minute ago."

A shrill scream from Winifred brought Betty's wonder to an abrupt end.

"Look, oh look!" shrieked the little girl, pointing with a shaking finger towards the shore; "the boat's moving, it's moving all by itself."

Every one followed the direction of Winifred's terrified gaze. Sure enough; several feet of water already separated the boat from the shore.

"The chain's broken," gasped Betty, growing very white. "It must have broken when we made the boat rock so hard. There aren't any oars, and we're drifting. Oh, what shall we do?"

Winifred began to cry.

"It's all your fault, Lulu," she wailed; "you said it was safe, and now we shall be drowned, and what will mother do. Oh, oh, oh!"

Lulu was shaking from head to foot, but realizing the truth of her friend's accusation, she made an effort to think of some way of escape.

"Couldn't we jump out and wade ashore?" she suggested desperately.

"Of course not," said Betty, with prompt decision; "we don't know how deep the water is, and besides we couldn't leave Jack."

Poor little Jack lifted his white face from his sister's shoulder, where he had hidden it in the first moment of terror. His eyes were big with fright, and his lips trembled pitifully.

"Never mind about me," he faltered. "Maybe if you get ashore you can send some one after me. I'm a boy, you know; I ought to be able to take care of myself."

"You're the bravest boy I ever knew," sobbed impulsive Lulu, throwing her arms around Jack's neck, "and we wouldn't leave you for the whole world, would we, girls?"

"Of course we wouldn't," said Winifred emphatically. Betty said nothing, but hugged her brother tight in wordless love and admiration.

"We sha'n't be drowned, any way, I know we sha'n't," said Lulu, her courage beginning to rise. "There are so many boats on the river that some one will be sure to see us pretty soon."

"There's a man over there fishing on that dock," cried Winifred hopefully. "He isn't looking this way, but maybe if we shout very loud he'll hear us."

The four little voices were accordingly raised, and shout succeeded shout till the opposite bank sent back the echoes, but the fisherman never turned his head. Perhaps he was deaf, or possibly he was accustomed to hear children shouting in that way, merely for the sake of amusement. Not another human being was in sight.

"He won't see us, oh, he won't look," moaned Winifred, once more beginning to cry. "See how far away from the shore we are getting. Oh, we shall be drowned, I know we shall."

Betty and Lulu had also noticed how fast the boat was drifting.

"The tide's going out," whispered Betty, with white lips. "Where does this river go to, Lulu?"

"Into the ocean, I think," said Lulu, shivering. "It has to go round Sandy Hook first, though," she added more hopefully, "and somebody will be sure to see us before we get there."

"Are you very frightened, Jack, dear?" Betty whispered, nestling close to her little brother.

"N—no, not so very," returned Jack tremulously; "only—only, if anything does happen think how unhappy mother will be, and—and, I did hope I should be able to walk just like other people."

This was too much for Betty, and she promptly burst into tears.

"Oh, we must do something, we must," cried Lulu, almost beside herself with anxiety. "It's all my fault, I know, but I really did think it was safe. I didn't mean to be naughty, I truly didn't, Winifred."

"I know you didn't," sobbed Winifred, hugging her friend in a burst of remorse. "I didn't mean what I said, not a single word of it, only I was so dreadfully frightened."

"Perhaps if we keep on shouting all the time, and waving our handkerchiefs, some one will notice us," Betty suggested.

This seemed a good idea, and was promptly acted upon, but though they shouted till their throats were sore, and waved till their arms ached, no friendly face appeared, and faster and faster drifted the little boat away from home and friends.

"I wonder what time it is," said Winifred, when they had at last left off shouting, in order to gain a little breath. "It seems as if we had been out on the river for hours and hours."

"We can't have been as long as that," said Betty, "because the sun is just as bright as it was when we started. I guess the time seems longer than it really is."

"I wonder where our mothers are now," remarked Lulu mournfully. "Mine must be on the boat coming home from the city."

"And mine is driving with Mrs. Martin," said Winifred. "Oh, what will they all do when they get home and we're not there." The picture called up by this remark was too dreadful to be borne with fortitude, and all four children simultaneously burst into tears.

Suddenly Jack's voice broke in upon the wails of the three little girls.

"Look, oh, look! there's a steamboat; it's coming this way."

Every eye was turned in the direction Jack pointed. Sure enough, a large steam yacht was coming rapidly down the river, her head pointed straight towards them.

"Wave, keep waving as hard as you can," cried Betty excitedly. "Let's all shout together again, and perhaps they'll hear us."

"Wait till they get a little nearer, they couldn't hear us yet," advised Jack. "Oh, do you really think they'll save us?"

"Of course they will," said Lulu confidently. "Oh, look, look, they see us already; there's a man waving back to us. Maybe they think we're only doing it for fun. How shall we let them know we want them to help us?"

"We must shout," said Betty, and she set the example by raising her voice to its highest pitch.

"Please, please help us! Our boat's drifting, and we haven't got any oars. Oh, please, do come and help us!"

"They understand us!" cried Lulu joyfully. "See, the man's nodding his head. Why, they're stopping! Oh, don't you believe they're going to help us after all?"

For the next few moments the children waited in breathless suspense, almost too excited to speak. Then Jack announced:

"They're getting into a rowboat. See those two men? That's the one that nodded to us; I guess he's the captain. Let's shout again."

So again the four little voices were raised in agonized appeal, and this time there came an answering shout from the other boat.

"Don't be frightened, children, you're all right. We're coming to you as fast as we can."

The wind brought the cheery, encouraging words straight across the water to the terrified children, and oh! the relief of that comforting assurance to each wildly beating little heart. The men in the boat rowed fast, and soon the splash of approaching oars was heard. Lulu and Winifred began to cry again, but it was for joy this time, not sorrow. Betty and Jack clung to each other in speechless relief. In a few moments the two boats were side by side; a rope was thrown securely around the oarless craft, and the children were safe.

"And now, my little friends, you must let us take you on board the yacht," said the man whom Jack had concluded to be the captain.

He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with a rather handsome face, and it seemed to the children as though his cheery voice was the pleasantest sound they had ever heard in their lives. He and his companion—who appeared to be one of the sailors—began at once rowing back towards the yacht, keeping the children's boat in tow. A sudden fit of shyness had fallen upon the party, and nobody spoke until the stranger inquired, regarding the solemn little faces rather quizzically:

"How did it happen?"

"We were playing in the boat," Betty explained. "It was fastened to the dock, and we thought it was safe. The chain broke and we hadn't any oars."

"Have you been drifting long? Were you very much frightened?"

"It seemed like a long time," said Betty, "and we were pretty frightened. It was very kind of you to come and help us."

The gentleman smiled. He was a gentleman, the children all felt sure of that, and Lulu afterwards remarked that he had the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

Nothing more was said until they reached the side of the yacht. Several men, evidently members of the crew, were standing on the deck, watching with interest the approach of the two boats.

"Now," said the gentleman, rising, "do you think you can manage to climb this ladder? It's perfectly safe, and I will help you."

Lulu and Winifred rose promptly, but Betty remained seated, her arm around her little brother.

"Don't be afraid," said the gentleman encouragingly; "it's quite easy."

"Oh, I'm not afraid," said Betty, her lip beginning to quiver, "but I can't leave my brother. He can't climb. He has always been a cripple until this summer, and he's only just beginning to walk now. We'll have to stay here till we get to the landing."

While Betty was speaking the stranger's face had softened wonderfully, and he looked at Jack with an expression of increased interest. Without a word he stepped to the side of his own boat, and, leaning over, lifted the little boy in his arms.

"Now I fancy we can manage it, my little man," he said kindly, and in another moment he had lifted Jack up to one of the men on the yacht, who in turn had placed the child in safety on the deck. The little girls were then carefully helped up the ladder, and in less than three minutes the whole party was standing, safe and dry, on the deck of what they afterwards learned to be one of the finest steam yachts in the world.

"And now I shall have to take you all as far as the steamboat landing," said the stranger, as he placed Jack comfortably in a steamer chair. "It will not take more than half an hour, and from there we can easily send word to your friends. Where do you live, by the way?"

"We live at Navesink," said Lulu, suddenly recovering her speech and her manners now that the danger was over, and remembering all at once that she had always been considered a very polite little girl. "My papa has a cottage there, and the others all came over to spend the afternoon with me. It was my fault about the boat, but I thought it was safe. I think we must have made it rock too much when we were playing shipwreck."

"Very possibly," said the gentleman, who looked considerably amused by this explanation. "It is never a very wise plan to make boats rock too much. But now let me see"—glancing at his watch—"it is only a little after five, and we shall be at the landing by half-past. Do you think your friends will be very much frightened about you?"

"I don't think so," said Lulu. "My mother has gone to the city for the day; Winifred's mother is out driving, and Betty and Jack say their mother told them they needn't come home before six. My papa has a telephone, and we can let them know as soon as we get to the landing."

"Not at all a bad idea, and in the meantime won't you make yourselves at home on board my yacht? By the way, I think shipwrecked people are apt to be hungry."

"We are not very hungry, thank you," said Lulu politely; "you see, we didn't start until half-past three."

The stranger smiled again, and said something in a low tone to the steward, who immediately disappeared.

"We've none of us ever been on a yacht before," said Lulu, feeling that it was her duty to keep up the conversation, as none of the others seemed inclined to talk. "I think it's a very nice place."

"I have crossed the Atlantic in this yacht," the gentleman said pleasantly.

"Have you really?" exclaimed Lulu, looking very much surprised. "I didn't know people ever did that, except perhaps lords."

"And why lords in particular?" the stranger inquired, smiling.

"I don't know, only a lord is coming to stay with us, and papa says he has crossed the ocean in his yacht."

"Indeed! and may I ask what your name is?"

"Lulu Bell. My father is Dr. Bell, and we live in New York in winter."

"Well, this is a coincidence, I declare," exclaimed the gentleman, looking really quite excited. "I had no idea that one of the children in that rowboat would prove to be the little daughter of my old friend. Have you ever heard your father speak of Lord Carresford?"

"Why, yes," said Lulu, her eyes opening wide in astonishment; "he's the lord that's coming to stay with us to-morrow."

"I am Lord Carresford," said the gentleman, laughing and holding out his hand.

"Children," gasped Lulu, turning to her three companions, who had been whispering together at a little distance from their rescuer and herself, and who had not paid much attention to the conversation, "oh, children, the very most wonderful thing has happened. This really is a lord's yacht, and this gentleman is—'His Lordship.'"