“Did she row across the river?”
“Yes, and I stood and watched her safe over. I tell you she’s smarter than chain-lightning.”
He did not relate that he had found her crying bitterly, and that she had evidently suffered not only from fright but from wounded feeling. She had uttered no word of complaint, but her silent tears had given him a feeling of remorse he would never forget. He rose early next morning to caulk the old boat which lay useless in the barn. “Abbott” had promised to do it, but “Abbott” and the “Electric Light” were both inclined to forgetfulness, and all the hard tasks were sure to fall, sooner or later, on “the old man of the family.”
“I believe the concern is seaworthy now, and suppose we row across the river,” said he, when breakfast was despatched.
There were six little cries of ecstasy. It was “Dishes, take care of yourselves if you can;” and, as for food, the flies seemed disposed to take care of that.
It was a lovely morning, the atmosphere being particularly bright and clear after last night’s storm. Gorgeous red and gold butterflies hovered in the air, a robin in the front yard hopped along five steps, then stopped to look at the campers, and the eastern morning sun threw his shadow before him exactly his own size.
“It’s a perfect state of bliss to go rowing this morning,” exclaimed Mary, as they entered the boat.
“’Twas all we needed to make us perfectly happy,” remarked Sadie Patten, longing to repeat some poetry, but restrained by fear of Lucy.
The river Dee, though remarkably deep, was narrow and soon crossed.