oak-tree that grew half in the water, and, with a long pole, had pushed
herself a third of the way across the swamp. Her dress was tucked up over
her bright balmoral, and the ribbons of her hat were streaming in the
wind. She had no mittens or gloves on her hands, which were very pink and
plump, and her feet were incased in high rubber boots.

"Hullo!" said Winnie, walking out on the root of the oak.

"Hilloa!" said Gypsy.

"I say--that's a bully raft."

"To be sure it is."

"I haven't had a ride on a raft since--why since 'leven or six years ago
when I was a little boy. I shouldn't wonder if it was twenty-three years,
either."

"Oh, I can't bear people that hint. Why don't you say right out, if you
want a ride?"

"I want a ride," said Winnie, without any hesitation.

"Wait till I turn her round. I'll bring her up on the larboard side,"
replied Gypsy, in the tone of an old salt of fifty years' experience.

So she paddled up to the oak-tree, and Winnie jumped on board.

"I guess we'll have time to row across and back before school," said
Gypsy, pushing off.