The well bucket often came loose from the rope, and grandpa had several
times fished it up with the rake, which he tied to a long clothes-line
pole. In a few minutes he was ready to go to the well, with Bunny and
Sue. Grandpa Brown carried the rake, and, reaching the well, he looked
down in it.

"I don't see your doll, Sue," he said.

"Oh, then she's drowned! Oh, dear!"

"But I see a string," went on Grandpa Brown. "Perhaps the string is
still fast to the doll. I'll wind the string around the end of the rake,
and pull it up. Maybe then I'll pull up the doll too."

And that is just what grandpa did. Up and up he lifted the long-handled
rake. Around the teeth was tangled the end of the string. Carefully,
very carefully, Grandpa Brown took hold of the string and pulled.

"Is she coming up, Grandpa?" asked Sue anxiously.

"I think she is," said grandpa slowly. "There is something on the end of
the string, anyhow. But maybe it's a fish."

Grandpa smiled, and then the children knew he was making fun.

"Oh, dear!" said Sue. "I hope my doll hasn't turned into a goldfish."

But nothing like that had happened. Up came the rubber doll, safely, on
the end of the string. Water ran from the round hole in the doll's
back--the hole that was a sort of whistle, which made a funny noise when