But the gentle lapping of the lake was the only answer to his cry. Then John realized that he was standing in the red petticoat. He smiled.
"They'll not be wanting girls, at all," he reasoned.
"THEY'LL NOT BE WANTING GIRLS AT ALL"
Next day, before anyone in the cottage was astir, John slipped out of the door. He was clad in a suit belonging to his older brother. The trousers hung very low, but he tucked them up. He pulled a cap down over his face.
He ran all the way to the opposite shore of the lake. His heart was pounding, and his breath came in gasps.
He threw himself down on the ground to rest. Bird sounds were all about, and a rustling of leaves. The water was lap-lapping as always.