46 LOIS.

grand-daughter, would you take her with you and leave me at
home ?”

Silas laughed. “I don’t know, chick,” he said; “but as I
hayen’t, I don’t believe it makes any difference.”

“Oh, Silas,” said Lois, “how gray it is getting! We can
hardly see the island.”

Silas turned around hastily ; he had been busy for the last
half-hour, and had not noticed the sky very particularly.

“That’s so,” he said; “we must hurry home. There’s a
storm coming, and we are farther away than I care to be with
ladies aboard. Hm!” he said to himself, “I don’t like the
looks of this; there’s ugly weather ahead.” He took up an old
pea-jacket and bade Lois wrap it smartly around her, then,
picking up the oars, he began to pull rapidly, but the storm
was upon them in all its fury before they were half-way home.
The old man labored against the stiff wind and the ever-
increasing waves till the veins stood out on his forehead.

Poor little Lois cowered in the bottom of the boat, which
pitched and tossed about, every moment threatening to fill, or
be carried where the black rocks frowned down on them.

“Lord, save us!” said the old man, under his breath; and
Lois sent up a little prayer to be brought safely home. She
thought of her mother’s anxious face, wondered if her father
were safe, and if she were drowned what would they do with
no little girl, for she was their only one. With her hands
tightly clasped, and the wind blowing her wet hair about her