Page:Stories told to a child.djvu/137

 and having secured it all, came again to give the boy a malicious little peck.

'Now what do you want to say?' asked his father.

'Papa,' repeated the boy, 'do currants ever grow under water?'

'No,' said his father.

'But,' replied the boy, 'there is something growing in the well, just under water, that looks like currants; and, papa, will you get it for me, please, for I should like to have it if it is good to eat.'

'Pooh!' said his grandmother; 'the boy is dreaming.' But the boy made such a fuss about the bunch of currants, and was so positive as to their growing down in the well, that though it was now autumn, and the leaves were falling, and all the currants were either eaten up or stowed away in jam pots long before, his father and grandmother allowed him to take them to the well; but first the latter put on her black silk bonnet and her cloak, and fetched her stick from its place, lamenting all the while that Patience was not there to do all her little errands for her.

Now the weather all that summer and autumn had been remarkably dry, and the consequence was, that this old well, which had long been disused because it contained so little water, had now less than ever; but that little was clear; though when the old lady and her son looked over the edge they could not at first see down into it, because a few drops of rain had fallen, and had wetted the fern leaves which were still dripping a little and covering its surface with dimples.

'There are no red currants here, nor plums either, my child,' said the grandmother; and as she spoke Rh