"You'd find out if you had to sail across it," she declared.

"When I was in Chicago I saw Lake Michigan," he went on dreamily,
"and it looked just as big as this water does."

"Looks don't count, with oceans," she asserted. "Your eyes can only
see jus' so far, whether you're lookin' at a pond or a great sea."

"Then it doesn't make any difference how big an ocean is," he
replied. "What are those buildings over there?" pointing to the
right, along the shore of the bay.

"That's the town," said Trot. "Most of the people earn their living
by fishing. The town is half a mile from here, an' my house is
almost a half-mile the other way, so it's 'bout a mile from my house
to the town."

The boy sat down beside her on the flat rock.

"Do you like girls?" asked Trot, making room for him.

"Not very well," the boy replied. "Some of 'em are pretty good
fellows, but not many. The girls with brothers are bossy, an' the
girls without brothers haven't any 'go' to 'em. But the world's full
o' both kinds, and so I try to take 'em as they come. They can't
help being girls, of course. Do you like boys?"

"When they don't put on airs or get roughhouse," replied Trot. "My
'sperience with boys is that they don't know much, but think they
do."