"Why, Jennie," said she, speaking now for the first time, "here we are; and when we stand still we don't move at all; we don't go home a bit, Jennie."
"Of course not, Dotty Dimple; that's a very bright speech! I've thought the same thought my own self before ever you did!"
Another silence, broken only by the pitter patter of the rain; for the thunder was growing less and less frequent.
"But we must go home some time," cried Jennie with energy. "If it kills us to death we must go home. Just you put your foot out, Dotty dear, and see if it sinks way down, down. I thought it was beginning to grow a little soft right here."
"O, dear, I don't dare to!" groaned Dotty, shaking with a nervous chill; "you put your foot in your own self, Jennie Vance, and see where it goes to. I don't want to slump down up to my hair any more'n you do. What do you s'pose!"
"Fie! for shame, Dotty Dimple! I always thought you were a coward, and now I know it! What if I should give you my ring, made of all carrot gold, would you do it then? Just nothing but put your foot out?"
"Would you give me the ring now, honest?" said Dotty, raising her little foot cautiously; "certain true?"
"Why, you know, Dotty, if I said I would, I would."
A sudden thought was darting across Dotty's mind, like another startled swallow; only this one came alone, and did not take her breath away; for it was a pleasant thought—Where were they? Whose field was this?