Speed Nell
Vacation with the Tucker Twins
We came back feeling fine and no longer full to "stuffifaction," as poor dear Blanche used to say. Zebedee held up two fingers, the sign all the world over among boys that a swim would be in order. Father responded with a boyish laugh and all the men trooped off to a swimming hole that Jo knew of a little way down the river. We could hear their shouts of laughter and a great splashing.
They were hardly out of sight when we were out of our shoes and stockings and in wading, Cousin Sue as eager as any of us. How good it felt! I'd rather wiggle my toes in a clear brown stream with a sandy bottom than do anything in the world. We took bits of bark and slender twigs and scraps of stray paper and sailed them down the swift-flowing water, watching to see which reached the tiny eddying rapids first and cheering the winners. Then at Dee's suggestion we picked up little pieces of wood and named them Volunteer, Valiant, Vixen, and Valkyrie and held an exciting cup race.
We dabbled our hands in the cool water. We splashed and sang. We romped and ran. You know what we did and what fun we had if you ever spent part of an August day in such a lovely spot.
But bye and bye we heard laughter again and voices, and we knew the men were coming back. So we scrambled out of the stream, dried our feet on the sunny bank and popped them again into demure and proper coverings.
We sighed a little that it was over – that glorious bit of freedom – but argued that it must stop sometime.
And that reminds me: this book, too, must stop, and it might as well be now, although the picnic story is not quite ended.
I had thought of telling how Uncle Peter took Cousin Park back to the spring wagon in his wheelbarrow, and something of the wonderful drive home with the crescent moon shining in the glow of the sunset. How Father drove Cousin Sue in his buggy and I sat on the front seat with Zebedee, – but I must stop.
I wonder, – shall I meet you all again when I am "Back at School with the Tucker Twins?"
