ht through the brook and up into our meadows. Say, build
a raft, why don't you? I always did when I was a kid. Here, I'll show
you."

Jud in a few minutes had shown Bobby how to make a little raft, and he
and Twaddles finished it while Meg and Dot ran up to the house to get
some toys to sail on it. For a raft, you know if you have ever made
one, is no fun at all unless it has a cargo.

"We brought Geraldine!" cried Dot, running back, out of breath, with
her best doll. "And now I wish I'd brought her trunk. But here's Meg's
'Black Beauty' book. She says we can play that's a trunk. It's heavy.
And Meg is bringing your airplane, Bobby, and the singing bird for
Twaddles."

The singing bird was a little toy one of the neighbors in Oak Hill had
given Twaddles. It had come from abroad, and he was very proud of it.
It was a tiny yellow wooden bird that wound up with a key and sang
three tunes for all the world like a music box.

Bobby fixed the string, and the children arranged the toys on the
raft, the smiling Geraldine occupying the place of honor in the center
and leaning gracefully against the book which served her as a prop.

"Look, Jud!" shouted Bobby. "See it float!"

Jud, in the middle of the stream, waved his hand encouragingly.

"It's beginning to sprinkle," he called. "Better run on up to the
barn, out of the wet. You'll find Dad working there. Tie your
raft--this is only a shower."

Bobby obediently tied the raft to a tree root that extended out over
the water, and the four little Blossoms, taking hold of hands, raced
madly for the barn. They were only just in time, for as they reached
the door the rain fell in sheets.

"Most caught you, didn't it?" chuckled Peter, who was mending harness
in a little room that opened on to the barn floor. "A rain like this
could drown that littlest one."

"No, it couldn't," protested Dot, who was the "littlest one."

"Maybe Jud will drown," worried Bobby. "Does he stay out in the wet?"

"A bit of rain doesn't hurt Jud," said Peter comfortably. "He's used
to it, and his mother has dry clothes ready for him when he comes in.
Well now, look around, and make yourselves at home. You can do most
anything in Miss Polly's barn."

"Let's play see-saw," proposed Meg, pointing to a long board that
stood in the corner. "Could we have that, Mr. Peter?"

"Of course you can. I'll lay it across this saw-horse, so, and that's
as fine a see-saw as any one could ask for," said Peter,