Neale O’Neil was wiser than most boys of his age. Perhaps having once lived in a circus had something to do with it. At any rate, among the things he had learned was to think first and speak afterward. And he decided to put this into practice now. He was doing a deal of thinking about the ring he had seen roll over the deck to be so quickly, almost secretively, picked up by Hank Dayton. But of it Neale said nothing to the mule driver nor to those aboard the Bluebird.
Walking about on the upper deck and looking down the towpath toward Hank, who was bringing the mules from their sylvan stable to feed them, Neale heard Ruth call:
“How’s the weather up there?”
“Glorious!” cried the boy. “It’s going to be a dandy day.”
“That’s great!” exclaimed Ruth. “Come on, children!” she called. “Everybody up! The mules are up and we must be up too,” she went on, paraphrasing a little verse in the school reader.
“Did any of the mules fall into the canal?” asked Dot, as she made haste to look at her “Alice-doll,” who had dried satisfactorily during the night.
“’Course not! Why should a mule fall into the canal?” asked Tess.
“Well, they might. My doll did,” went on the smallest Corner House girl. “But, anyhow, I’m glad they didn’t.”
“Yes, so am I,” remarked Mr. Howbridge, as they all gathered around the breakfast table, which Mrs. MacCall had set, singing the while some Scotch song containing many new and strange words.
“Well, shall we travel on?” asked the lawyer, when the meal was over and Hank was hitching the mules to the tow-rope, the animals and their driver having had a satisfying meal.