Denis flushed angrily.
“Why, mother?” he inquired—“Why should we be scolded?”
“Nay, Denis,” said the mother gravely; “you should not ask, for you know the reason well enough. Your father has forbidden you to go out in the boat after dark, and yet you will do it, and what is worse, you take your little sister into the same danger as yourself,—and, as for you, Nanette,” she added, turning to the child, who stood silent and ashamed, “I wonder how you can be so naughty! I have told you never to go out at night with your brother. He does not know enough about the coast and the hidden rocks, on which many a brave ship has struck and foundered. But you are both so wild and wilful because you know I have too much to do to be always on the watch for your foolish pranks. You care nothing for your mother. Now that you are so pleased with the wooden shoes, I foresee what will happen. You will be always on the water, trying to find something else,—and some day you will both be drowned. Come, Nanette, be a good child, and promise me, at any rate, that you will not go out in the boat after sunset. Denis will not care to go alone, and so you will both be obedient. Come, come, promise me!”
“I promise you, mother,” said Nanette in a low voice.
Denis said nothing, and both children looked sad and sullen. As for the wooden shoes, the excitement about them soon subsided, though Nanette continued to wear them all day,—but they themselves noticed how reluctantly the little feet of their wearer seemed to run on the various domestic errands required,—and in what a petulant humour the golden-haired little Nanette seemed to be.
Night came at last, and the lovely moon rode high in the heavens, looking as round and bright as a silver shield. Every tiny wavelet on the sea was tipped with light, and here and there a deeper line of radiance showed plainly where the phosphorescent fish were gambolling and darting to and fro under the water. On the shore stood Denis, the fisherman’s son. He was stealthily at work, unfastening the moorings of his father’s skiff, and every now and then he glanced towards the hut in fear lest his parents should be on the watch. But the little home was shut for the night, and all was dark and silent. Carefully and almost noiselessly, young Denis pushed the boat towards the edge of the water, and then he ran swiftly to one of the windows of the hut and tapped softly. In another moment Nanette appeared, and with her brother’s help, she climbed through the window, and soon stood beside him. She wore her wooden shoes—and oh, how unhappy they felt! How they wished they could say, “Nanette! dear little Nanette! don’t disobey your mother!”
But they could only creak a faint disapproval as she ran along the shore in eager and feverish haste to be out with her brother on that sparkling and beautiful ocean. Quite forgetful of her promise to her mother, she laughed in sheer enjoyment of her own naughtiness and wilfulness, and as Denis pushed out the boat and rowed quickly and steadily away from land, she clapped her hands in excitement and exclaimed,—
“Oh, what a lovely night! What a shame it would be to stay in bed while the moon is shining so brightly!”
“Yes,” replied Denis, as he bent to the oars and rowed as swiftly as he could—“Father is very unkind to wish to prevent us enjoying ourselves. We do no harm.”
“Besides,” added Nanette, “even if the sea did get rough, you know how to manage a boat in a storm, don’t you?”