"That's a comforting idea," returned Mr. Evringham briefly, his eyes resting on the upturned face.
"So now, if the pond won't run away, we'll have the most fun," went on Jewel, relieved. "They said we could take this boat, grandpa, and have a row." She lifted her shoulders and smiled.
"H'm. A row and a swim combined," returned the broker. "I'm surprised they've nothing better this year than that ramshackle boat. You'll have to bail if we go."
"What's bail?" eagerly.
"Dipping out the water with a tin cup."
"Oh, that'll be fun. It'll be an adventure, grandpa, won't it?"
"I hope not," earnestly, was the reply; but Jewel was already sitting on the grass pulling off her shoes and stockings. She leaped nimbly into the wet boat, and Mr. Evringham stepped gingerly after her, seeking for dry spots for his canvas shoes.
"I think," said the child joyfully, as they pushed off, "when the winds and waves notice us having so much fun, they'll let the pond alone, don't you?"
"If they have any hearts at all," responded Mr. Evringham, bending to the oars.
"Oh, grandpa, you can tell stories like any thing!" exclaimed Jewel admiringly.