"Let's try, anyway."
Both the girls screamed with all their might, separately and together, but they soon realized that their muffled voices scarcely reached the top of the well, let alone sounding across the fields to Carter.
"This is mischief, for sure," said Marjorie; "and Grandma won't like it a bit. I promised her faithfully I would try to keep out of mischief." The little girl's face was very troubled, for she had truly meant to be good and not indulge in naughty pranks.
"You didn't mean it for mischief," said Molly, consolingly; "I'm sure I didn't."
"Of course I didn't; but somehow I never seem to know what IS mischief until I get into it. But, oh, Molly, I can't stand on my toes any longer. If my feet were a little shorter, or the bucket a little wider, I could stand down flat."
"I don't seem to mind tiptoeing," said Molly; "can't you take off your shoes? Then, perhaps, you could stand flat."
"Perhaps I could," said Marjorie, doubtfully, "but I know I'll upset doing it."
But with Molly's help, and both holding carefully by the chains, Marjorie managed to get her shoes off, and tied them to the handle of the bucket by their strings.
"Well, that's a comfort," she exclaimed, as she stood firmly on the soles of her stockinged feet.
But as the minutes passed away, the girls rapidly became aware of the discomforts of their position. Their hands became bruised with the chains, their bodies grew stiff and cramped, and the damp, cold atmosphere seemed almost to stop the blood in their veins.