There was no rope on the windlass at the well, so Ingeborg proposed that they go down to the river and wash there. It was lots of fun. They found that the dark and fearsome object they had heaved bricks at the night before was only a big gray rock half sunken in the ground.
Along the river margin turtles sunned themselves in rows on the half-submerged logs, and a muskrat scuttled clumsily for cover at sight of the invaders.
“I wish we could go right in,” said Jean, looking up and down the winding course of the river as she parted the alders, “but it isn’t really safe when you don’t know the water. This looks full of unexpected holes and snags. Where does it run to?”
“Down past the two mills, and rises away up in the Quinnebaug Hills,” Sally told her, kneeling on a flat rock and splashing herself well. “Did you see that black snake slither out of the way then? They’re awful cowards. Yes, Jean, this comes from Judge Ellis’ place about two miles beyond here, three and a half by road.”
“Judge Ellis? Billie’s grandfather?”
“You talk just as if you knew him already, Doris.”
“Well, I feel as if I do, after all Rebecca has told us about him. And when I do meet him, I’m going to make him my friend.”
“Who? The Judge?”
“No. This Billie person. Or I’ll take him home to Tommy—Tommy would be crazy about him.”
“Hey! Look what I found,” Kit called out. “Here are some fishing poles hidden in the bushes. Know what? There must be some boys around.”