"Think of the funny things Mrs.Brown told, of the time the levee broke at Shawneetown.

The table all set for supper, and the water pouring in until the table floated up to the ceiling, and went bobbing around like a fish." "That doesn't help any," said Lloyd, after a moment.

"I see the watah crawlin' highah and highah up the walls, above the piano and pictuahs, till I feel as if it is crawlin' aftah me, and will be all ovah the bed in a minute.

Did you evah think how solemn it is, Betty Lewis, to be away out in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but a few planks between us and drownin'?
Seems to me the ship pitches around moah than usual, to-night, and the engine makes a mighty strange, creakin' noise." "Do you remember the night I put you to sleep at the Cuckoo's Nest ?" asked Betty.

"The night after you fell down the barn stairs, playing barley-bright?
Shut your eyes and let me try it again." It was no nursery legend or border ballad that Betty crooned this time, but some peaceful lines of the old Quaker poet, and the quiet comfort of them stole into Lloyd's throbbing brain and soothed her excited fancy.
Long after Betty was asleep she went on repeating to herself the last lines: "I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air, I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care." She did dream of fires and floods that night, but the horror of the scenes was less, because a baby voice called cheerfully through them, "Here, daddy, give these to the poor little boys that are cold and homesick ?" and a great St.Bernard, with a Red Cross on his back, ran around distributing mittens and tin soldiers.
"Now that we are half-way across the ocean," said Mrs.Sherman, next morning, "I may give you Allison Walton's letter.