For an hour he read. Then, reluctantly, he closed his book, wrapped up his package again, and went on his homeward way.
The new canal for which the farmers of Greenstreet had worked and waited so long had just been completed. The big ditch, now full of running water, was a source of delight to the children as well as to the more practical adults. The boys and girls played on its banks, and waded and sported in the cool stream. Near the village of Greenstreet was a big headgate, from which the canal branched into two divisions. As Dorian walked along the canal bank that afternoon, he saw a group of children at play near the headgate. They were making a lot of robust noise, and Dorian stopped to watch them. He was always interested in the children, being more of a favorite among them than among the boys of his own age.
"There's Dorian," shouted one of the boys. "Who are you going to marry?"
What in the world were the youngsters talking about, thought the young man, as the chattering children surrounded him.
"What's all this?" asked Dorian, "a party?"
"Yes; it's Carlia's birthday; we're just taking a walk by the canal to see the water; my, but it's nice!"
"What, the party or the water?"
"Why, the water."
"Both" added another.
"We've all told who we're going to marry," remarked a little rosy-faced miss, "all but Carlia, an' she won't tell."