Now she left the lowlands called the prairie, and climbed
Sunset Hill in search of prettier posies. Beyond this rocky knoll was
an oak wood, from the direction of which came the noise of running
water. At the sound Tilderee remembered that she was thirsty. "There
must be a brook in yonder," she said. "Come, Fudge, let us go and
see." Trampling among the brambles, the little girl pushed on, and soon
came to a small stream dashing along over a stony course. Forming an
oak leaf into a cup, as she had often seen Joan do, Tilderee dipped it
into the clear current; and by this means, and the sips between times
which she took up in the hollow of her hand, succeeded in obtaining a
refreshing drink; while from the opposite bank Fudge put down his head
and took his share with less ceremony.
Tilderee chose a seat upon a log and rested. To amuse herself she
broke off pieces of the underbrush and began to strip them of their
leaves. "To make horsewhips, you know," she explained, with a teasing
glance at Fudge. He understood very well, and shrank away a trifle;
but the next minute the baby hands caressed his rough coat, and she
added lovingly: "No, no, Fudge! Nobody shall touch such a good dog!"
Throwing aside the sticks, she tried to weave the leaves into garlands,
as Joan had taught her.
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