They clambered down and were soon on the brink of the river. Two or three girls, much older than Dimple and Florence, were pulling a small flat barge up on the sands. One of the girls recognized Dimple. "Hallo, Eleanor," she cried. "Where did you come from? Don't you want to get on with us?"
"Oh, do let us," whispered Florence.
"Are you going out on the river?" asked Dimple.
"No, we are only going to get on this flat boat, and sit here where we can get the breeze, and maybe we will fish. We brought some tackle along with us. Come, give me your hand. There, you are landed. Come, little girl, there is plenty of room." She held out her hand to Florence, who eagerly accepted the invitation, and was soon by her cousin's side.
"Isn't it nice?" said Dimple.
"Fine," Florence responded, heartily, as she sat down in the bottom of the boat.
"It's rather sunny, though," Dimple remarked.
"Oh, you mustn't mind that. We're going to fish. Don't you want to try your luck?"
Dimple looked rather disgustedly at the can of angle-worms and decided that she would look on.
"What are you going to do, Libbie?" Dimple's acquaintance inquired of one of the other girls.