"What's the matter?" asked Mother Brown.
"It's like rain all over Sallie Malinda," answered the little girl. "I don't want her to catch cold, for she might not shine her 'lectric eyes any more."
"That's all Sue seems to care about the fall," laughed Mother Brown in a whisper to her husband.
As for Bunny, he seemed to think them quite wonderful—for a time. He stood as near the edge as his father would let him, looking up the rapids down which the waters rushed, to fall over the rocky edge, dropping in a smother of foam to the blue lake below. Silently he watched the smooth waters glide down like some ribbon, and then, turning to his father, he asked:
"Is this all they do?"
"All what does?" inquired Mr. Brown, not quite understanding.
"All the waterfall does. Does it just keep falling?"
"All day and all night, day after day and night after night, forever and forever," said Mr. Brown, for really the waterfall was a marvelous sight.
"Then I've seen enough," said Bunny, turning away. "If they've been doing this a long while, and will do it all next week, I can look at 'em then. Now I want to go out in a boat. I saw one as we came through the picnic grounds. I've had enough of waterfalls."
Mr. and Mrs. Brown and Uncle Tad looked at one another. But they said nothing. Bunny started down the hill again, toward the lake, Sue following with her Teddy bear.