Rachel felt that her valuable advice had been ignored in this direction, so she walked along until she came to the piles of rocks. Some had been rolled into place where they were to be left, but many were piled up waiting to be artistically arranged in various spots.
“I ain’t never hear tell of plantin’ rocks fer a garden, but nuttin’ is queer dese days, ’cause the hull world is gone clean crazy!” commented Rachel scornfully.
Norma and Natalie overheard her remark and laughed. Then Rachel looked back at Mrs. James and said: “I s’pose growin’ rocks is one of dese gals’ crazes—and you let ’em do such stunts?”
“You wait until the garden is finished and then judge if the rocks look crazy where we intend putting them,” laughed Mrs. James, hoping to quiet Rachel’s fault-findings.
But the maid took offense at being told to waive judgment for the time being and turned away to stride back to the house without another word or look for the gardeners.
There was too much to be done, however, for anyone to pay the least attention to Rachel’s wounded pride, and soon the scouts were bustling about like bees at a hive. The wooden mold, or frame, for the dam was completed and Ames now gave his attention to the islands.
“You show me about where you want them made,” said he to Norma and Mrs. James. “I sent Sam to the barn to bring some more small boards for more frame-ups.”
The three most interested ones now descended to the floor of the hollow and prospected carefully before locating the main island which was to be in the wildest part of the pool. The distance from the bank to the desired spot, had to be taken into consideration, as the rustic bridge must not have piers or supports in the center of it—the foundations on either end were to be sufficient to uphold it. When the location was finally decided upon, Mr. Ames drove his crowbar into the hard ground to mark the site.
The sites for the two smaller islands were next considered and located, before the farmer paid any attention to Sam who had been trying to attract notice from the three in the depression.
“Now—whad do you want?” bawled Farmer Ames, going toward Sam as he spoke.