He stepped upon the raft, and thought how pleasant and how exciting it would be to sail over to Centre Isle, as the little wood-crowned islet that rose from the middle of the lake was called. Pulling up the stake that held the raft, he pushed out a little way from the shore. The sensation which the motion of the raft produced was new and strange to him, and he felt a longing desire to sail farther. But just then Frank returned.
"My father is not at home," said he.
"Can't you go, then?" asked Charles, as he pushed the raft to the shore again.
"Yes; I told my mother where I was going."
"Frank, let us go up to Mrs. Weston's on this raft. She lives close by the shore of the lake."
"My father told me never to go on the lake without permission from him."
"Pooh! What harm can there be in it?"
"I don't know that there can be any."
"Let us go then."
"My father told me not to go on the lake."