"O, we have, you know, ma'am," said Prudy; "it's just like riding round Willow-brook."
"Fie! don't tell me there's anything so beautiful in Maine! I expect you to be enchanted every step of the way. Look at this pond, with, the swans sailing on it."
"O, yes; those are beauties," cried Dotty; "I never saw any but cotton flannel ones before. But do you think the pond is as pretty as Bottomless Pond, Prudy, where Uncle Henry goes for pitcher-plants?"
"You prosy little creature," said Mrs. Pragoff, laughing; "I am afraid you don't admire these picturesque rocks and tree-stumps as you should."
Dotty thought this was certainly a jest.
"Pity there's so many. Why don't they hire men to dig 'em up by the roots?"
Horace smiled on Dotty patronizingly.
"They'll do it some time, Dot. The Park is new. Things can't be finished in a minute, even in New York."
Mrs. Pragoff smiled quietly, but was too polite to tell Horace the rocks had been brought there as an ornament, at great expense.
"I like the Park, if it isn't finished," said Prudy, summoning all her enthusiasm; "I know you'll laugh, Horace, but I like it better for the rocks; they make it look like home."