at the mill and discovered that there were only one or two
high and dusty windows at that end, and down she sat on the short green
turf to pull off the shoes and stockings as fast as she could, lest
second thoughts might again hinder this last wade. She gathered her
petticoats and over to the island she splashed, causing awful
apprehension of disaster among the minnows.

The green island was a delightful place indeed; the upper end was near
the roaring dam, and the water plashed and dashed as it ran away on
either side. There were two or three young elms and some alders on the
island, and the alders were full of clematis just coming into bloom. The
lower end of this strip of island-ground was much less noisy, and Betty
went down to sit there after she had seen two or three turtles slide
into the water, and more minnows slip away into deeper pools out of
sight. There was a pleasant damp smell of cool water, and a ripple of
light went dancing up the high stone foundation of the old mill. Betty
could still hear the great wet wheel lumbering round. She thought that
she never had found a more delightful place, so much business was going
on all about her and yet it was so quiet there, and as she looked under
a young alder what should she see but a wild duck on its nest. Even if
the shy thing had fluttered off at her approach, it had gone back again,
and now watched her steadily as if to be ready to fly, yet not really
frightened. It was a dear kind of relationship to be in this wild little
place with another living creature, and Betty settled herself on the
soft turf, against the straight young elm trunk, determined not to give
another glance in the duck's direction. It would be great fun to come
and see it go away with its ducklings when they were hatched, if one
only knew the proper minute. She wished that she could paint a picture
of the mill and the river, or could write a song about it, even if she
could not sing it, so many girls had such gifts and did not care half
so much for them as Betty herself would. Dear Betty! she did not know
what a rare gift she had in being able to enjoy so many things, and to
understand the pictures and songs of every day.

Then it was time to wade back to shore, and so she rose and left the
duck to her peaceful seclusion, not knowing how often she would think of
this pretty place in years to come. The best thing about such pleasures
is that they seem more and more delightful, as years go on