"There, now you've spoke again, and scared one away," said Horace. "If it hadn't been for you I should have got, I don't know how many, by this time."
Prudy's lip began to tremble, and two big round tears rose to her eyes.
"Poh! crying about that?" said Horace; "you're a nice little girl if you do talk too much, so don't you cry."
Horace rather enjoyed seeing Grace and Susy in tears, but could never bear to have Prudy cry.
"I'll tell you what it is," said Horace, when Prudy's eyes were clear again, "I don't think I make much playing hookey."
"I don't like playing 'hookey' neither," returned Prudy, "'cause the hooks won't catch 'em."
"O, you don't know what I mean," laughed Horace. "When we boys 'out west' stay out of school, we call that playing hookey."
"O, do you? But I want to go home now, if we can't catch any nibbles."
"No, I'll tell you what we'll do—we'll walk out on that log, and try it there."
The river was quite high, and this was one of the logs that had drifted down from the "Rips." Prudy was really afraid to walk on it, because it was "so round," but not liking to be laughed at, she crept on her hands and knees to the very end of the log, trembling all the way.