Then, "There she is!" we both exclaimed at once. Moynihan whispered from behind: --Good old Fresh Water Martin! --Ask him, Stephen whispered back with weary humour, if he wants a subject for electrocution. "Don't they do enough?" I demanded in a lower tone, while the children, having smiled and nodded and kissed hands to us, resumed their exhibition. Flights of fancy gave place, in her mind, to a steady fireside glow, and I had already begun to perceive how, with the development of the conviction that--as time went on without a public accident-- our young things could, after all, look out for themselves, she addressed her greatest solicitude to the sad case presented by their instructress.