she would roll across the wet deck, and go on rolling until some merciful blow put an end to life and misery. But the red-haired girl proved herself a heroine. Through her worst spasms she clung to the head, and even at intervals during the night restored the tent.
In the morning, when the steamer entered the comparatively calm waters of the Firth of Clyde, Mrs. Crossley began to revive a little. The desire to live returned to her when passing Wemyss Bay. She disentangled herself from the enveloping shawls, and tried to stand on her feet. It did not surprise her to find that she was weak and shaken. Her protectress made her sit down again, and offered her a slice of bread and an orange. Mrs. Crossley ate the bread hungrily; but the thought of the orange was bitter to her, on account of the stickiness of her neck. She would cheerfully have given a pound for a cup of tea, but no such thing was available. However, the bread gave her back strength and sufficient spirit to be anxious about her personal appearance. Thanks to the shawls in which she had been wrapped, her clothes had suffered nothing worse than a crumpling; but her hair hung down about her shoulders, tangled and wet, and of all the hairpins with which she had started only one remained. By careful searching, in which all the harvesters, men and women, took part, four were recovered from corners of the deck. The girls subscribed five more from their own heads, and
