you after giving you the slip, with you in such a scrape."
"Indeed," Mark murmured, "you were kind enough, coming on that wild goose chase to the river. But I think you must be some sort of a wizard or an angel or something."
"Merely lucky," said she, twinkling slowly, "Come now, we'll sit down and get to the bottom of this."
Which they did. There followed a pause in the rapid-fire conversation, while another telegram was despatched to Mr. Tyler. Oh, if Mr. Bolliver and Jane—already steaming up the Soochow Creek in a passenger-launch—could have seen that message!
"And you'll take Ping-Pong, then?" Mark asked anxiously, "or tell me where to take her?"
"Yes, we'll look out for Ping-Pong," Miss Macdougal assured him. "I must say, you're the grand nursemaids; she looks as smooth and content as a kitten. Yes indeed, we'll do with her—and she'll be brought up a Christian, and one that won't forget who it was pulled her out of the river."
Mark grinned vaguely.
