awful thirsty. 'Twas the biscuits, I'm sure,"
added Joan apologetically.

"I'm afraid I forgot to bring any milk," said Darby regretfully.
"There's lots of water in the canal, of course. I could carry you some
in my hat; but then I don't think it's very clean."

"I'm sure it looks all right," replied the little girl, grasping eagerly
at her brother's idea. "It's brown, but see how it sparkles!"

"Come on, then, and I'll lift you out some," assented Darby. "But you
mustn't take much, mind; just what will wash down that biscuit, for it
_was_ dry!"

They crept up the bank of the canal in shelter of a sheaf of tall reeds.
Together they crouched upon the brink. Joan held Darby's hand fast while
he leaned down and with his hat ladled her up a small measure of the
doubtful-looking liquid, which she swallowed greedily and pronounced the
nicest water she had ever tasted--better even than milk.

Darby shook the moisture from his hat and waved it in the air to
dry--backwards, forwards, round and round, faster and faster. It was
almost dry. A few more turns would complete the process, and he twirled
it quicker still, when all at once it went flying from his fingers,
skimming right into the middle of the canal, hopelessly out of reach!

He gazed after it with such a blank look that Joan laughed gleefully.
Away it went, sailing slowly along, the blue ribbon trailing like a tail
behind; on, on, farther and farther, until at length, behind a clump of
osiers that hung over the bank and dipped into the water at a bend in
the canal, the watchers lost sight of the gallant little craft--H.M.S.
_Dreadnought_!

"It's gone!" said Darby ruefully. "Well, it's a good thing that it was
only an old one," he continued, in a cheerier tone. "I'm just as comfy
without a hat. Perhaps it'll be to one of those big schools where the
boys wear nothing on their head but their hairs that father will send me
by-and-by, so I'd best be getting used to going without. And in the
Happy Land hymn, although it tells about the robes--at least, I expect
it's them that's 'bright, bright as day'--there's not a word about what
they wear on their heads, except a crown, and one couldn't wear anything
else along with that."

"I wants another drink," whimpered Joan after a pause, preparing to lay
hands on Aunt Catharine's mushroom hat. "Take my hat, Darby; it'll hold
lots and lots of water. That ho'wid old cracknel's stickin' in my froat
yet," and she gasped piteousl