could laugh; and Aunty Edith trying to look severe at Aunty May and not
able to, on account of her looking so comical. She had a black smudge
from the end of the beanpole, which had been in a bonfire, across her
forehead. You see she had just jumped the farthest, and was hollering,
"Glug-Glug."

Aunty May laughed pretty hard, too, and we all laughed then, and Aunty
May went up to the house to turn into a clean-faced grown-up again, and
Aunty Edith unlocked the boat and handed the big umbrella to the man and
told him to use the boat as often and as long as he liked. He put his
paint-box and sketch-block in, and got in himself, and I stood looking
at him, wishing he'd ask me--when he did.

"Want to come, young man?" he said, and I said, "Yes, I'll take my book
and my fish-line and be very quiet. May I, Aunty Edith?"

Aunty Edith said, kind of doubtful, "I'm not going, William. Maybe you'd
better not."

Well, I guess I looked awful sorry at that, for the man said, his name
was Mr. Garry Louden,--"Oh, let him come, Edith, I'll look after him";
and Aunty Edith said, "But you're such an absent-minded beggar, Garry,
and this is Burt's most precious charge."

"Oh, he'll be all right," Mr. Garry said; "I'll bring him home right as
a trivet. Hop in, son."

So I jumped in and waved good-bye to Aunty Edith, and we started up the
river.