“But I can’t go, Jenny,” said Andrew; “it’s nearly school time now.”

Andrew was a Scotch boy, and a fine fellow.  He was next to the head of his school, and he was as good at play as he was at his books.  Jenny Patterson, his most particular friend, was a little girl who lived very near Andrew’s home.  She had no brothers or sisters, but Andrew had always been as good as a brother to her, and therefore, when she stood by the water’s edge that morning, just ready to burst into tears, she thought all her troubles over when she saw Andrew approach.  He had always helped her out of her difficulties before, and she saw no reason why he should not do it now.  She had crossed the creek in search of wild flowers, and when she wished to return had found the bridge removed, as Andrew supposed, by Old Donald McKenzie, who pastured his cows on this side of the creek.  This stream was not very wide, nor very deep at its edges, but in the centre it was four or five feet deep, and in the Spring there was quite a strong current, so that wading across it, either by cattle or men, was quite a difficult undertaking.  As for Jenny, she could not get across at all without a bridge, and there was none nearer than the wagon bridge, a mile and a half below.

“You will go with me, Andy, won’t you?” said the little girl.

“And be late to school?” said he.  “I have never been late yet, you know, Jenny.”

“Perhaps Dominie Black will think you have been sick, or had to mind the cows,” said Jenny.

“He won’t think so unless I tell him,” said Andrew, “and you know I won’t do that.”

“If we were to run all the way, would you be too late?” said Jenny.

“If we were to run all the way to the bridge and I was to run all the way back, I would not get to school till after copy-time.  I expect every minute to hear the school-bell ring,” said Andrew.

“But what can I do, then?” said poor little Jenny.  “I can’t wait here till school’s out, and I don’t want to go up to the school-house, for all the boys to laugh at me.”

“No,” said Andrew, reflecting very seriously, “I must take you home some way or other.  It won’t do to leave you here, and no matter where you might stay, your mother would be troubled to death about you.”

“Yes,” said Jenny, “she would think I was drowned.”

Time pressed, and Jenny’s countenance became more and more overcast, but Andrew could think of no way in which he could take the little girl home without being late and losing his standing in the school.

It was impossible to get her across the stream at any place nearer than the “big bridge;” he would not take her that way and make up a false story to account for his lateness at school, and he could not leave her alone or take her with him.

What in the world was to be done?

While several absurd and impracticable projects were passing through his brain the school-bell began to ring, and he must start immediately to reach the school-house in time.