WITH THE WATER WATCHMAN
"Please, Jack," begged Phyllis.
"Girls always talk," replied Jack.
"I will not say a word to you—indeed I will not."
"Well, if you spoil my fishing—" began Jack.
"And I'll pick thimbleberries for our lunch," said Phyllis, eagerly.
So it happened that a small girl in a great sunbonnet followed a small boy with a still larger straw hat and a fishing-pole and line, out of the back gate and down the lane.
True to her promise, Phyllis said nothing, but trudged along behind Jack with wide open, watchful brown eyes.
By and bye the children came to a pond of shining, clear water. How still everything seemed, how brightly the sun shone!
"Now if you talk you'll scare the fish," said Jack, with an air of great importance.
"I will not talk," Phyllis whispered back, shutting her lips very tightly and sitting down beside her brother with a little sigh.
Jack threw his line—Phyllis watched with awe. They sat for a moment waiting for a "bite."
Then Jack jerked the line up sharply, not so much because he thought he had caught something, as because he hoped he would catch something.
"I don't believe there are any fish here," he grumbled at last.
But Phyllis's bright eyes had caught sight of something and she forgot all about the fishing and her resolve not to speak.
"Look!" she cried, pointing to a fallen tree-trunk which hung over the water.
On a branch sat a bird. He was considerably larger than a robin.
