y, like a chicken with the pip.

"Certainly not," answered Darby decisively, putting down his foot, so to
speak, in his most masterful manner. "You can't have any more of that
bad water. Don't you know it's very dangerous to drink bad water?
There's funny little beasts living in it called microscopes. They get
into the blood and carry on dreadful. They give people fever, and typus,
and palsy, and cholera-mortis, and--and--I don't know what all," and he
took a long breath, having somewhat exhausted the supply along with his
list of horrors. "I heard Dr. King telling Auntie Alice all about it one
day."

Joan heard him out with open mouth and wondering eyes. How clever Darby
was! He knew everything--almost! Her admiration was short-lived,
however. Soon she returned to the charge, and with the skirt of her
cotton frock at her eyes, she wailed anew,--

"I want a drink, I do, or my tea. Bo--o--o! I wants my tea!"

"Don't think any more about being thirsty, Joan, like a good girl,"
coaxed her brother, laying his arm lovingly round his little sister's
shoulders. "That's the right way to do when you've got a pain or
anything that won't get better--just pretend it's not there. Or we'll
make believe that we've had our tea--although it's only done being
dinner-time--and that nurse has just handed us our second cup, and, by
mistake for her own, put four lumps of sugar in it. My, isn't it sweet!"
And Darby smacked his lips, but Joan did not lift her head. "Maybe we'll
get some nice fresh water when we get into the barge," he added, seeing
that his first tactics had failed. "And when we reach the Happy Land
there'll be oceans of it--streams and streams of pure, sparkling water,
clear as crystal! Think of that, Joan!"

The prospect, though pleasing, was too remote to satisfy Joan's
immediate craving, or fancy rather, for she was not nearly so thirsty as
she indicated, and she kept on whimpering,--

"Bo--o--o! I want a drink--I wants my tea!"

Darby always felt helpless when Joan went on crying in that persistent
way, and he looked about him in despair. Then he started up in haste, at
the same time dragging at his sister's hand.

"Come on!" he cried. "See, the horse has started; the _Smiling Jane_'s
moving. They're a good way in front. We'll have to run a bit to catch up
on them."

Thus opportunely diverted from brooding on her grievance, Joan quickly
dried her eyes, trotted contentedly along by her brother's side, and
soon t