et in the water till the
mimic ocean was full; then regulate the little water-gate, lest it
should overflow and wreck the pretty squadron of ships, boats, canoes,
and rafts, which soon rode at anchor there.

Digging and paddling in mud and water proved such a delightful pastime
that the boys kept it up, till a series of water-wheels, little mills
and cataracts made the once quiet brook look as if a manufacturing
town was about to spring up where hitherto minnows had played in peace
and the retiring frog had chanted his serenade unmolested.

Miss Celia liked all this, for anything which would keep Thorny happy
out-of-doors in the sweet June weather found favor in her eyes, and
when the novelty had worn off from home affairs, she planned a series
of exploring expeditions which filled their boyish souls with delight.
As none of them knew much about the place, it really was quite exciting
to start off on a bright morning with a roll of wraps and cushions,
lunch, books, and drawing materials packed into the phaeton, and drive
at random about the shady roads and lanes, pausing when and where they
liked. Wonderful discoveries were made, pretty places were named, plans
were drawn, and all sorts of merry adventures befell the pilgrims.

Each day they camped in a new spot, and while Lita nibbled the fresh
grass at her ease, Miss Celia sketched under the big umbrella, Thorny
read or lounged or slept on his rubber blanket, and Ben made himself
generally useful. Unloading, filling the artist's water-bottle, piling
the invalid's cushions, setting out the lunch, running to and fro for a
flower or a butterfly, climbing a tree to report the view, reading,
chatting, or frolicking with Sancho,--any sort of duty was in Ben's
line, and he did them all well, for an out-of-door life was natural to
him and he liked it.

"Ben, I want an amanuensis," said Thorny, dropping book and pencil one
day, after a brief interval of silence, broken only by the whisper of
the young leaves overhead and the soft babble of the brook close by.

"A what?" asked Ben, pushing back his hat with such an air of amazement
that Thorny rather loftily inquired:

"Don't you know what an amanuensis is?"

"Well, no; not unless it's some relation to an anaconda. Shouldn't
think you'd want one of them, anyway."

Thorny rolled over with a hoot of derision, and his sister, who sat
close by, sketching an old gate, looked up to see what was going on.

"Well, you needn't