"Now I am out again—free—ready for more adventures," laughed the chair to himself. "But I am not going to fall into you!" he said to the brook which was murmuring along beneath the trees.
"You may splash into me and swim, if you like," whispered the running brook. "But my waters are very chilling now, and you might catch cold."
"Thank you, then I will stay on dry land," said the rocking chair. "I am a traveler, but not a sailor. Though back in Happy Home, where I came from, is an old sofa who says he is some day going to sail away to sea."
"Is he?" asked the brook. "Well, that's wonderful! You know I, myself, run down to the great, salty sea."
"Oh, do you?" inquired the rocker. "I shall tell the sailing sofa about you when I go back. But no! I am never going back to be sat on by fat old Grandma!" creaked the rocker.
"Is your friend, the sofa, a sailor?" went on the brook.
"Well, he has never yet been to sea," Racky replied, "but he is always talking of going sailing, so I suppose he may, some day."
"Tell him I shall be glad to meet him," went on the brook. "And, if he likes, he may start his voyaging on my waters."
"I'll tell him, if ever I go back to Happy Home," promised the rocker, "but I think that will never be."
This talk was in whispers, for Racky did not want to awaken the Singing Girl nor the wood-chopper. Then, bidding the brook good-bye, the chair rocked on and on, traveling through the forest, which was now white and gleaming under the silvery moon.