Page:Pacific Monthly volumes 9 and 10.djvu/144

Water Babies:

A Chapter from the Life of Te'-boy and He'n

By Goldte Robertson funk, Author of "Adele"

THE Morgans lived in the last house on Naches avenue. If you know your geography, you know that Naches avenue is a great tree-lined boulevard, bounded on either side by a deep, wide, open irrigation ditch, which is responsible for stretches of velvety lawn, each particular lawn set with its own handsome dwelling, and the whole the joy of one of those fine western towns which are the pride of their inhabitants.

The year before Colonel Morgan built his little Dutch cottage on the corner, Naches avenue had said "down with the fences," and, each man's pride exceeding that of his neighbor, in a week not a vestige of fencing remained. The Morgan lawn, like the others, was velvet from house to pavement and from pavement to ditch, where, for a width of four feet and a depth of two, the strong, clear current of mountain water swept rapidly and continuously by.

Colonel Morgan's waistcoat swelled with pride as he shaved his corner, of an evening, and glanced down the avenue at the neighboring miles of green lawn and perspiring, prideful owners, assiduously clipping and watering and shaving. His fluffy little wife followed him about, fluffiier and prettier, he thought, than any of the other fluffy white things that followed their husbands about on any of the other lawns on the avenue.

"What'll we do when the children can run about alone, Will? I'm sure they'll fall into the ditch."

"Well, let 'em fall into it. Just the thing. First time they go near it I'll take 'em by the heels and duck 'em both. Guess that'll fix 'em."

Mamma Grace shuddered as she thought of two little ones that had already been drowned in the swift current, one pushed too hard by a companion and one while sailing his fleet of paper craft.

Colonel Morgan came home one evening and set the fountain tip of the garden hose at play on his front yard and went to the far end of the place to bring the lawn mower from the garden house. It needed oiling and the bag needed adjusting, and a good half hour went by before he started out with it.

Mamma Grace, seeing her husband at work in the front yard, hastened the dressing of the children with promises that they might go out and "help papa-daddy." She had not observed the Colonel leave the yard, and, in fact, he had hardly gone, when she opened the side door and sent the two little toddlers to make a rush on him, while she retired to the kitchen to help the maid.

Three-year-old Helen and two-year-old Ted, hand in hand, trudged around to the front of the house in search of their big playfellow. He was not there — but, oh, my, what lovely water! They ran directly into it, laughing and dancing as it fell down in a big spray over them. And how nice and soft the grass was! They sunk their little feet — sqush, sqush, it went, the grass and water over the little red boot tops. Helen's heavy, fresh curls were matted and dripping about her neck and face. Ted's tight kinks were shedding the drops, and his little upturned mouth