child-queen," had
her own way, as usual.

"Why, where's the paddles?" said Susy. "The men must have hid them.
Dear me, I can't stop to hunt; and here it is five o'clock long ago! O,
I'll take this good smooth shingle, I declare! I guess it washed ashore
on purpose; it's almost equal to a paddle.--Now we'll go, all so nice,"
continued Susy, fearlessly dipping the chance-found shingle into the
water.

"O, my suz," said Dotty, clapping her hands, which had any amount of
dimples on the backs; "we're goin'!"

"Of course we're going!" said Susy, proudly. "What did you expect? I can
do five times as well with a shingle as Lonnie can with a paddle. What
do you suppose aunt Martha'll say? 'Bravo! those are smart children, to
be rowing all alone, by themselves'!"

"O, Susy, what a hubble-bubble we make in the water! Look at the bubbles
winkin' their eyes! See those pretty wrinkles, all puckered up in the
water!"

"I see them," said Susy, steadily plying her shingle; "but why don't you
sit still? You'll tip us both over, as sure as this world; and if we get
drowned I guess grandma'll scold! I shall be the one to have all the
blame."

"O, dear," said Dotty, reeling about from side to side, "the boat's
dizzy! My head's goin' to tip into the water. But don't you cry, Susy;
you catch hold of me, and I shan't go!"

Susy was suddenly seized with mortal terror.

"Dotty Parlin, I'll never take you anywhere again, as long as I live!
You sit as still as ever you can, and fold your hands; fold them both!"

Dotty obeyed at once, and sat up quite straight, looking very sweet, and
at the same time slightly acid, like a stick of lemon-candy. The Water
Kelpie, now that Dotty was quiet, floated on, safely and surely, towards
the opposite shore.

It was a pretty picture--the white boat, the graceful children, and the
still, blue water. Susy's fair arms were bared to the elbows, and her
face was deeply flushed. Dotty's beautiful eyes danced, but she herself
was motionless and demure.

When they landed, Susy called aloud for her aunt Martha to come and
secure the boat. Her voice echoed from afar, waking "the sleep of the
hills," but no aunt Martha appeared. The children clambered out at last,
and Susy chained the boat to a stick, which she drove into the sand. But
the sand was light, and the boat was heavy, and the current strong; so
before the children had walked a dozen rods, the Water-Kelpie was
floating down stream of its own free