“Hey, Doddy, hey, for the brook!” shouted Dick, and grasping each other’s hands, they ran for the rippling water.
“Oh!” cried Dolly, her eyes shining. “Did you ever!”
To the very edge of the brook they went, dabbling their fingers in the clear stream, and merrily splashing water on each other.
All this would have been a harmless performance enough if they had been in play clothes, but the effect on their travelling costumes was most disastrous.
Leaning over the mossy bank to reach the water caused fearful green stains on white piqué and on light-grey knickerbockers. Hands became grimy, and faces hot and smudgy. But blissfully careless of all this, the children frolicked and capered about, rejoiced to find the delightful country spot and quite oblivious to the fact that they were on their way to their new home.
“Let’s wade,” said Dick, and like a flash, off came four muddy shoes, and four grass-greened stockings. Oh, how good the cool ripply water did feel! and how they chuckled with glee as they felt the wavelets plashing round their ankles.
Across the brook were the dearest wild flowers,—pink, yellow, and white.
“We must gather some,” said Dolly. “Can we wade across?”
“Yep; I guess so. It doesn’t look deep. Come on.”
Taking hands again, they stepped cautiously, and succeeded in crossing the shallow brook, though, incidentally, well dampening the piqué skirt, and the grey knickerbockers.