"Please, sir, we—we—we're—are—are—all drownded."
The words came out all broken to pieces by childish sobs, and there stood a pretty little barefooted girl of eight or nine summers looking up at him. Her rosy face was wet with tears, and the larger share of her dress looked as if it were wet with Pawg Lake water.
"Drowned, my dear? Is that so? Were you drowned?"
"N-n-n-o—no, sir."
"Were any of the rest drowned?"
"N-n-n-o, sir, but Aunt Sally can't make the boat swim, 'cause there's come a hole in it."
"That's awful. Tell Aunt Sally to bring it to me, and I'll mend it."
"She—she can't come. She's lost one of her shoes."
"Is that so? We must go and hunt for that shoe."