nd getting out of the well, caught up his shoes and
stockings, and went into the house.

CHAPTER IX.

A MARVEL.

Early the next morning Mr Macmichael, as he was dressing, heard a laugh
of strange delight in the garden, and, drawing up the blind, looked
out. There, some distance off, stood Willie, the one moment staring
motionless at something at his feet, the other dancing and skipping and
singing, but still looking down at something at his feet. His father
could not see what this something was, for Willie was on the other side
of one of the mounds, and was turning away to finish his dressing, when
from another direction a peculiar glitter caught his eye.

"What can this mean?" he said to himself. "Water in the garden! There's
been no rain; and there's neither river nor reservoir to overflow! I can
hardly believe my eyes!"

He hurried on the remainder of his clothes, and went out. But he had not
gone many steps when what should he meet but a merry little brook coming
cantering down between two of the mounds! It had already worn itself
a channel in the path. He followed it up, wondering much, bewildered
indeed; and had got to a little turfy hollow, down the middle of which
it came bubbling and gabbling along, when Willie caught sight of
him, and bounded to meet him with a radiant countenance and almost
inarticulate cries of delight.

"Am I awake, Willie? or am I dreaming?" he asked.

"Wide awake, papa," answered Willie.

"Then what is the meaning of this? _You_ seem to be in the secret: where
does this water come from? I feel as if I were in a fairy tale."

"Isn't it lovely?" cried Willie. "I'll show you where it comes from.
This way. You'll spoil your boots there. Look at the rhubarb-bed; it's
turned into a swamp."

"The garden will be ruined," said his father.

"No, no, papa; we won't let it come to that. I've been watching it.
There's no soil carried away yet. Do come and see."

In mute astonishment, his father followed.

As I have already described it, the ground was very uneven, with many
heights and hollows, whence it came that the water took an amazing
number of twists and turns. Willie led his father as straight as he
could, but I don't know how often they crossed the little brook before
they came to where, from the old stone shaft, like the crater of a
volcano, it rolled over the brim, an eruption of cool, clear, lucid
water. Plenteous it rose and overflowed, like a dark yet clear molte