Much to Mamie's surprise, and somewhat to her alarm, her father now spoke quite sternly to her, bidding her put all thought of the breakwater out of her head, since, dangerous or not, her mother was afraid to have her go there, and his word had been passed that she should not be allowed to do so.
After this, she dared say no more; but still she silently fretted and murmured, and thought herself hardly used, thereby losing half her pleasure in the beautiful scene before her.
It was two or three days before any of the children came down to play in their pool again. Other pleasures took up their time and attention; but, at last, one bright, sunny afternoon, it was proposed to go.
When the hour arrived, however, Lily and Belle were invited to go for a drive and a visit to the light-house; and the juvenile party was reduced to four. Lily kindly lent her ships and boats, and a new supply of unhappy passengers had been provided; but these did not satisfy Mabel, who, since the day on which she had first seen the ducklings, had never ceased to wish that she could see them swim.
"You've been here the longest; would you mind asking Mrs. Clark to lend us one of the ducklings to take down to the Rocks this afternoon?" she said to Lily, as the latter, ready dressed for the drive, stood upon the piazza, waiting for the carriage.
"I should think I would mind!" exclaimed Lily. "I would not do it for any thing. Why, Mabel, she's the crossest old thing that ever lived. This morning when I came up from the bath, I asked her for a ginger-cake, and she told me I was always stuffing! Stuffing! Such a horrid word to say! And besides, it's not true. I'm not eating all the time, and mamma gave me leave to ask for the cake."
"Didn't she give it to you?" asked Mabel.
"Oh, yes, she gave me a whole plateful; at least, she was going to; but you don't think I was going to take them after that! No, indeedy!"
"But I don't want her to give us a duckling, only to lend us one to swim it down in our pool," said Mabel. "Wouldn't you dare to ask her?"