"Father! father!" they shouted, "will you take us down the stream
to-morrow?--we want to see where it goes to."

"Goes to?" laughed back the father. "Why, it goes to the moon; didn't
Kitty say so last night?"

"Now, father," returned Bessie, pouting just a little, "you _know_ we
don't believe that. We want you so much to take us in the boat; it
doesn't leak at all now--oh! do." And both children fairly capered in
their excitement.

Mr. Hedden smiled; but; after wiping his forehead with a red and yellow
handkerchief, went on thoughtfully with his work without returning any
answer.

The children, looking wistfully at him a moment, turned toward the
house, wondering among themselves, "what father meant to do about it."

That evening, at the supper-table (where they didn't have napkin rings
or silver salt-cellars, I can assure you), Mr. Hedden asked his wife
whether Tom Hennessy was back from "up river" yet?

"I think he came home yesterday," returned his wife. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I thought, as to-morrow'll be a holiday, I'd get him to take
the youngsters down the stream in the scow."

"Oh! husband," rejoined Mrs. Hedden, looking up anxiously, "do you think
it's safe?"