"You dearest, loveliest," continued Dimple; "it is too delicious to see you again."
"And I didn't dream about the crazy man after all," said Florence, the next morning.
CHAPTER VIII
Adrift
During this time Mr. Atkinson was not forgotten, and the two little girls spent many a happy morning in his beautiful garden, for even the small house which Mr. Dallas had built for Dimple, was not proof against the attractions Mr. Atkinson's place had to offer. They were careful not to venture beyond bounds, and kept in the walks and on the porches, but one hot day they wandered down to where a fence marked the limits of the place in that direction. Then came a steep bank sloping down to Big Run which, a little further on, emptied into the river.
It was a wild, romantic spot and full of charm for the two little girls whose fancies pictured all sorts of possible things. The hollows, in the scraggy willows bending over the stream, might be the hiding-places of nymphs or fairies; yonder soft sward dotted with buttercups and daisies, might be the favorite spot for a midnight revel; among those rocks queer little gnomes might live. Florence was especially struck with it all. She had never been quite so near to such a picturesque spot, and now nothing would do but that they should climb the fence and explore further.
"There isn't a soul anywhere to be seen," said Florence, "and it will be perfectly safe."
"Suppose we should meet a fierce dog," Dimple, a little more cautious, suggested.