From somewhere near by there came the silvery chime of a bell.
"Why, there's the tea-bell!" exclaimed Lisbeth; "and, Reginald, you have to change those muddy clothes. Say good-bye to Mr. Brent, children, and come along."
"Imp," I whispered, as the others turned away, "where did you hide those stockings?" And I slipped the half-crown into his ready palm.
"Along the river there's a tree--very big an' awfull' fat, you know, with a lot of stickie-out branches, an' a hole in its stomach--they're in there."
"Reginald!" called Lisbeth.
"Up stream or down?"
"That way," he answered, pointing vaguely down stream; and with a nod that brought the yellow curls over his eyes he scampered off.
"Along the river," I repeated, "in a big, fat tree with a lot of stickie-out branches!" It sounded a trifle indefinite, I thought--still I could but try. So having packed up my rod I set out upon the search.
It was strange, perhaps, but nearly every tree I saw seemed to be either "big" or "fat"--and all of them had "stickie-out" branches.
Thus the sun was already low in the west, and I was lighting my fifth pipe when I at length observed the tree in question.