"O no!"
But Winthrop presently judged of that also for himself, and taking his little sister on one arm, made his way steadily and swiftly down to the level ground.
"You're a good climber," was Winnie's remark when he set her on her feet again. "And I don't know but I was once. I've almost forgotten. But it's as good to have you carry me, and to see you do it."
The Merry-go-round was found in good condition, only with her seams a little, or not a little, opened. That trouble however was got over by the help of a little caulking and submersion and time; and she floated again as lightly as ever. Some days still passed, owing to weather or other causes, before the first evening came when they went out to try her.
That evening, — it was the seventeenth of August, and very fair, — they went down to the rocks, just when the afternoon had grown cool in the edge of the evening. Winnie put herself in the stern of the little white boat, and Winthrop took his old place and the oars. Winnie's eyes were sparkling.
"It will be harder work to pull than it used to be," she remarked joyously, — "you're so out of the habit of it."
Winthrop only replied by pushing the little skiff off.
"However," continued Winnie, "I guess it isn't much to pull me anywhere."
"Which way shall we go?" said Winthrop, one or two slow strokes of his oar sending the little boat forward in a way that made Winnie smile.
"I don't know — I want to go everywhere — Let's go up, Winthrop, and see how it looks — Let's go over under Wut-a- qut-o. O how beautiful it is, Winthrop! —"