I walked along to the well, my eyes half-blinded by tears. That well-sweep had always fascinated me, and I had been allowed to play with it freely; but lately cousin Joseph had observed that the curb, or framework round the mouth of the well, was out of order; the boards were old, and the nails were loosened; he should put on new boards as soon as he could stop; but until he did so, I must let it alone. Would I remember?
"Yes, sir," said I, at the same time thinking in this wise: "Why, I drawed water day before yes'day, and he didn't say the boards were old. How could they grow old in one day?"
Still I fully intended to obey. I forgot myself when I said,—
"Fel, le's do a washing, and wash our dollies' clo'es. I'll go get a little tinpail to draw water with."
For I could not lift the bucket.
"Well," said she; "and I'll go get a cake o' soap."
She had heard nothing about the well-curb, and did not know we were doing wrong to draw water. She enjoyed swinging the pole just as much as I did, and we soon forgot our slight disagreement as we watched the little pail drop slowly into the well.
"There are stars down there," said I, "for I saw 'em once; they say it's stars, but I shouldn't wonder if 'twas pieces of gold—should you?"
I was letting the pail down as I spoke, and Fel was leaning against the curb, peeping into the well.
"O, I forgot," cried I; "cousin Joseph said—"