“It will be a while first,” said David.
“You will be a banker,” said Ned.
“I am afraid I ought to be gardener this afternoon,” said David, looking round on the garden.
“No use. The water is rising. We shall be flooded yet,” said Jem.
“There is no time lost yet,” said his mother.
“It is better that we should be a little late, than that the water should cover the earth after the seeds are sown.”
The broad, shallow channel at the end of the garden was full, and the willows that fringed the bit of green grass were far out into the water. The water almost touched the bridge across the road, and filled the hollow along the embankment.
“And, besides, you are going to sail,” said Jem.
“I think it would be quite as pleasant to stay here.”
They were all sitting on the little gallery before the house. It must have been a charming place once, when the river could be seen from it, and the pretty view beyond. At present, nothing could be seen on that side but the high embankment, and the few rods of garden-ground. On the other side were the willows, already green and beautiful, and some early-budding shrubs and the grass. Then there was the water, flowing down between the two bridges, and, over all, the blue sky and the sweet spring air. It was a charming place still, or it seemed so to David and them all.