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Page 76
"All right, then," said Carter. "Do you two let go of each other
and each hang tightly to her own chain, and push your buckets
apart as far as you can, but don't hit the sides of the well."
Somewhat inspirited at the thought of rescue, Molly took a firm
hold of her chain and pushed herself loose from Marjorie. Marjorie
had faith in Carter's promises, but she felt a sinking at her
heart as she began to descend the dark well and came nearer and
nearer to the black water.
With great care, Carter drew up the bucketful of Molly, and when
Midge's bucket was still at a safe distance above the water, he
stayed the chain with a stick, and pulled Molly the rest of the
way up merely by his own strong muscles.
He safely landed the bucket on the curb, and picking the exhausted
child out, laid her on the grass, without a word.
He then went back to the well and spoke very decidedly to
Marjorie.
"Miss Midget," he said, "now I'll pull ye up, but ye must do your
share of helpin'. When ye reach the other bucket, shove it aside,
that it doesn't hit ye. Stand straight and hold tight, now!"
Marjorie did as she was told, and, slowly but steadily, Carter
pulled her up. At last she, too, was once again out in the
sunlight, and she and Molly sat on the grass and looked at each
other, uncertain whether to laugh or cry.
"It was a narrow escape," said Carter, shaking his head at them,
"and what puts such wicked mischief into your heads, I don't know.
But it's not for me to be reprovin' ye. March into the house now,
and tell your Grandma about it, and see what she says."
"I'll go in," said Marjorie, "but if you'd rather, Molly, you can
go home. I'll tell Grandma about it, myself."
"No," said Molly, "it was my fault. I coaxed you into it, and I'm
going to tell your grandma about it."
"I was just as much to blame as you, for I didn't have to go down
the well just because you coaxed me. But I'll be glad if you will
come with me, for, of course, we can explain it better together."
Hand in hand the two culprits walked into the room where Mrs.
Sherwood sat sewing.
They were a sorry-looking pair, indeed! Their pretty gingham
frocks were limp and stringy with dampness, and soiled and stained
from contact with the buckets and the moss-grown sides of the
well.
Marjorie had been unable to get her shoes on over her damp, torn
stockings, and as Molly's head had been drenched with water, she
presented a forlorn appearance.
Grandma Sherwood looked at them with an expression, not so much of
surprise, as amused exasperation.
"I'm glad you weren't killed," she said, "but you look as if you
had come very near it. What have you been up to now?"
"We haven't been up at all, Grandma," said Marjorie, cheerfully,
"we've been down--in the well."
"In the well!" exclaimed Mrs. Sherwood, her face blank with
surprise. "Marjorie, what can I do with you? I shall have to send
you home before your vacation is over, unless you stop getting
into mischief! Did you fall down?"
"It was my fault, Mrs. Sherwood," said Molly; "truly, I didn't
mean mischief, but it was such a hot day and I thought it would be
cool down the well--"
"And it was," interrupted Marjorie; "and we had a pretty good
time,--only I was too heavy and I went down whizz--zip! And Molly
came flying up, and if we hadn't caught each other, I s'pect we'd
both have been drowned!"
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