The garden-beds had already been made, and a great many green things were springing here and there, and, on a rugged old apple-tree and on some plum and cherry trees, the buds were beginning to show themselves. The children were eager to be at work, but, for the present, that was not to be thought of. However, there was much to be said about the garden, and about the seeds which were to be sown, and Jessie was eager about a plan for covering the high embankment with squash-vines and scarlet-runners. Fred wanted to keep bees, and ducks if they could have them, but bees certainly; and amid the happy clamour which their voices made there came a shout, and, from under the railway bridge from the river, a boat was seen advancing.
“Here we are at last!” called out Frank Oswald; “and it looks very much as if here we must stay. We cannot get any further, Phil.”
The Inglis children were soon as near the boat as the willows and the water would permit. There seemed to be no way of getting the boat to the bank, for the willows were far out into the water, and through them it could not be forced.
“You’ll have to land on the other side and go round by the bridge,” said Jem.
They were not using oars. That would have been impossible in a channel so narrow. They were pushing the boat through the water by means of a long pole, but it was not very easily managed, because of the shallowness of the water and the bushes that grew on the margin.
“Jem is right; we must go to the other side,” said Frank.
“Not I,” said his brother, as he planted his pole firmly on the bank, measuring the distance with his eye. Then throwing himself forward with a sudden spring, he was over the willows and over the water beyond, landing safely on the nicely-prepared onion-bed.
“Well done!” cried Jem.
“Not at all well done,” said Frank, who had only saved himself from being overturned into the water by grasping a branch near him.
Philip only laughed, as he shook hands with Mrs Inglis and Violet.