"A judge of everything?"
"Nearly—among other things, I judge that if you continue to look at me, and don't mind where you are walking, Miss Fanny, your handsome feet will carry you into that stream!"
There was much good sense in these words; and Fanny immediately took the advice which had been proffered—that is to say, she turned her eye away from the bantering lips of her companion, and measured the stream which they were approaching.
It was one of those little mountain-brooks which roll their limpid waters over silver sands; hurl by through whispering ledges, the resort of snipe and woodcock; or, varying this quiet and serene existence with occasional action, dart between abrupt banks over mossy rocks, laughing as they fly onward to the open sunlight.
The spot which the party had reached, united these characteristics mentioned.
A path led to a mossy log, stretched from bank to bank, some feet above the water—a log which had answered the purpose of a bridge for a long time, it seemed; for both ends were buried in the sward and the flowers which decorated it.
Below this, the limpid stream wound over bright sands and pebbles, which glittered in the ripples like diamonds.
"Now!" cried Ralph, "here is a pretty pass! How are these delightful young ladies to get over, Verty?"
"I don't know—I suppose they will walk," observed Verty, simply.
"Walk!"