“Well, I haven’t got my fan, and I came near not having my water wheel,” said Bert. “I fell on it when I slipped. I hope I didn’t break it.”
More concerned about his latest “invention,” than about himself, Bert went back to the waterfall, his shoes making a queer “sloshing” sound, as Freddie called it, for they were half full of water. He found the water wheel pulled a little out of place, for in his excitement when he found himself falling, he had made a grab for it.
“But I can easily fix that,” he said, and he got a hammer, some nails and bits of wood from a box he had brought down to the brook together with his paddle wheel.
“You aren’t going to keep on at that now, are you?” asked Nan, in evident surprise.
“Why not?” Bert wanted to know.
“Because you’re all wet. You ought to go up to the house and get dry clothes on.”
“No,” said Bert. “If I go up Mother might not let me come down again. Besides, these are the oldest clothes I have and I couldn’t play around again until they dried. They’ll dry on me just as well as off me. I’m going to keep ’em on and stay right here.”
“But you’d better take off your shoes and stockings,” Nan advised him. “They’ll dry quicker off you than on you.”
“I guess that’s a good idea,” Bert agreed, and soon his footwear was placed on bushes out in the hot sun, and he resumed work on his water mill.
Nan looked after Flossie and Freddie so they would not get in Bert’s way nor into the brook, and soon the older Bobbsey boy gave a cry of delight.