"We must make the best of it," he said bravely. "I think I could swim to the house and drag the tub by the rope."
"I wouldn't hear of it for the world, Master Alfy," protested his nurse; "you'd catch your death!"
"Perhaps I could walk in the water," he replied. "I don't believe it is very deep. Try it, dear Mansy, with your umbrella, and see how deep it is."
"I wouldn't let you, Master Alfy; I wouldn't indeed. You'd catch your death, I tell you!"
"But we can't stay here all night, Mansy."
"I can't let you get into the water, Master Alfy. You don't know how deep it is, nor how strong it's a-runnin'; and you'll catch your death!"
"What dreadful disasters!" laughed Alfy. But he knew quite well that his nurse could make up her mind firmly, and that it would be useless to argue with her. Still he thought he might have tried to get the boat nearer the house.
The moon was now shining brightly, and a beautiful silvery path of light lay on the water. Alfy sat on the side of the tub opposite his nurse and watched the scene. It was a strange picture—the unaccustomed flood, the dark mass of the house, and the tree tops standing out of the water, the bright moonlight, which seemed to make the scene almost more desolate, and the curious craft in which they were sitting. The scene deeply impressed itself on Alfy's mind.
"Well, it is of no use to sit here doing nothing," said Mansy presently. "If we cannot do anything else, I think we'll try and go to sleep. I am so tired. Perhaps we can see better in the morning what to do."
"How funny to sleep in a tub on the water!" exclaimed Alfy.