t waterhole, with ships and boats and sailors, and
every kind of strange thing upon it.

Mrs. Storefield was pretty fond of talking, and she was always fond of
me, because once when she was out after the cows, and her man was away,
and she had left Grace at home, the little thing crawled down to the
waterhole and tumbled in. I happened to be riding up with a message for
mother, to borrow some soap, when I heard a little cry like a lamb's,
and there was poor little Gracey struggling in the water like a drowning
kitten, with her face under. Another minute or two would have finished
her, but I was off the old pony and into the water like a teal flapper.
I had her out in a second or two, and she gasped and cried a bit, but
soon came to, and when Mrs. Storefield came home she first cried over
her as if she would break her heart, and kissed her, and then she kissed
me, and said, 'Now, Dick Marston, you look here. Your mother's a good
woman, though simple; your father I don't like, and I hear many stories
about him that makes me think the less we ought to see of the lot of
you the better. But you've saved my child's life to-day, and I'll be a
friend and a mother to you as long as I live, even if you turn out bad,
and I'm rather afraid you will--you and Jim both--but it won't be my
fault for want of trying to keep you straight; and John and I will
be your kind and loving friends as long as we live, no matter what
happens.'

After that--it was strange enough--but I always took to the little
toddling thing that I'd pulled out of the water. I wasn't very big
myself, if it comes to that, and she seemed to have a feeling about it,
for she'd come to me every time I went there, and sit on my knee and
look at me with her big brown serious eyes--they were just the same
after she grew up--and talk to me in her little childish lingo. I
believe she knew all about it, for she used to say, 'Dick pull Gracey
out of water;' and then she'd throw her arms round my neck and kiss me,
and walk off to her mother. If I'd let her drown then, and tied a stone
round my neck and dropped through the reeds to the bottom of the big
waterhole, it would have been better for both of us.

When John came home he was nearly as bad as the old woman, and wanted to
give me a filly, but I wouldn't have it, boy as I was. I never cared for
money nor money's worth, and I was not going to be paid for picking a
kid out of the water.

George Storefield, Gracey's brothe