“What are you going to do first?” asked Jimmie, smiling down at his small companion.
“I don’t know—what are you?”
“Oh, I have work to do—have to weed the garden this morning. But you have the whole farm to get acquainted with. I’ll tell you—if I were you, I’d go down to the brook and play.”
“I guess I will,” decided Sunny Boy.
Mrs. Horton wanted to unpack the trunk, and when Grandma assured her that the brook was not deep and Sunny Boy promised not to go wading until she should be there, she kissed him and told him to run along and have a good time.
On his way to the brook, Sunny Boy passed Grandpa and Jimmie in wide straw hats working in the garden. Grandpa pointed out the brook to him. It ran through a meadow that came right up to the garden.
“I’ll be down and play with you myself as soon as we get this lettuce transplanted,” said Grandpa.
Sunny had never had a brook to play in before, and he thought it fine. It was not a very wide brook, but it was very clear, and Sunny Boy could see the pebbles on the bottom. Little darting fish went in and out, hiding under the long grasses that leaned over the edge. Bruce came panting down as Sunny Boy looked at the water, and took a long drink. Then he lay down in the grass, his brown doggie eyes fixed watchfully on his new friend.
“Wonder what that is?” said Sunny Boy to himself.
“That” was a wooden wheel that turned in the water with slow, even jerks, sending out a little spray of rainbow drops that fell back into the water. Sunny Boy got down on his knees to watch it. Quite suddenly, without warning, the wheel stopped turning.