“I can’t tell, Milly.  But I’ll tell you who’s sure to be up now, and that’s John Backhouse.  I should think he’s just beginning to milk the cows.”

“Oh then, Becky and Tiza’ll be up too,” cried Milly, dancing about.  “I wish we could see them.  Somehow it would be quite different seeing them now, father.  I feel so queer, as if I was somebody else.”

If you have ever been up very early on a summer morning, you will know what Milly meant, but if not I can hardly explain it.  Such a pretty quiet little walk they had down to the river.  Nobody on the road, nobody in the fields, but the birds chattering and the sun shining, as if they were having a good time all to themselves, before anybody woke up to interrupt them.  Mr. Norton took the children down to the stepping-stones, and then, while Milly and nurse stayed on the bank he lifted Olly up, and carried him to the middle of the stepping-stones, where the water would about come up to his chest.  Mr. Norton had already taken off his own shoes and stockings, and when they came to the middle stone, he put Olly down on the stone, and stepped into the water himself.  “Now, Olly, give me your hands and jump in.  Mind, it’ll feel very cold.”

Olly shut his eyes, and opened his mouth, as he always did when he felt just a little frightened, and then in he went; splash! ugh! it was so cold—­much colder than the sea used to feel—­but after a few splashes Olly began to get used to it, and to think it fine fun.

“Oh, father, fetch Milly, and then we’ll all dance about,” entreated Olly.

“Come, Milly,” called Mr. Norton.  “Try whether you can manage the stepping-stones by yourself.”  So Milly came, holding up her bathing dress, and stepping from one big stone to another with a very grave face, as if she felt that there would be an end of her altogether if she tumbled in.  And then, splash!  In she jumped by the side of Olly, and after a little shiver or two she also began to think that the river was a delightful bathing place, almost as nice as the sea, perhaps in some ways nicer, because it was such a strange and funny one.  They danced and splashed about in the brown sparkling water till they were tired, and at last Olly stopped to take breath.

“I should think the fishes must be frightened of us,” he said, peering down into the river.  “I can’t see any, father.”

“Well, they wouldn’t choose to swim about just where little children are shouting and capering.  The fishes are hidden safe away under the banks and the big stones.  Besides, it’s going to be a very hot day, and they like the shady bits of the river.  Just here there’s no shade.”

Suddenly there was a great commotion in the river, and when Mr. Norton looked round for a second he could see nothing of Milly, till up came a dripping head and a pair of hands, and there was Milly kneeling on the stones at the bottom of the river, with just her head above water, looking very much astonished and rather frightened.