“We can’t get in these buckets.”

“Of course not, goosey; but we can get our feet in, and then stand up, and hold on by the chain.”

“We can’t get our feet in flat, the buckets aren’t wide enough.”  As she spoke, Marjorie stood on one foot and examined the sole of her other shoe, which was certainly longer than the diameter of the bucket.

“Oh, don’t fuss so!  We can stand on our toes a little bit.  Come on—­I’ll go first.”

“All right,” and Marjorie began to enter into the spirit of the thing; “there can’t be any danger, because Carter said the water was low in the well.”

“Yes, all the wells are low just now—­it’s such dry weather.  But, anyway, we won’t go down as far as the water.  Now listen:  I’ll get in this bucket and start down.  You pull the other one up, and when you get it up here, pour out the water and get in yourself, and then come on down.  But don’t let my bucket go all the way down, because I don’t want to go into the water.  Put a stick through the chain when I holler up for you to do so.”

“All right; hop in, it will be lots of fun, and we’ll surely get cooled off.”

So, while the bucket stood on the flat stones of the well-curb, Molly stepped in and wound her thin little arms around the chain.

“Push me off,” she said to Marjorie, “and hang on to the other side of the chain so I won’t go too fast.”

“Yes, but who’s going to push me off when I go down?”

“Oh, you can wriggle yourself off.  Here, don’t push me, I’ll push off myself and show you how.”

Grasping the other chain and partly supporting herself by that means, Molly, with her feet in the bucket, wriggled and pushed until the bucket went off the edge of the curb and began to slide down the well.  The other bucket came up from under the water with a splash, and as both girls held the upcoming chain, Molly did not go down too fast.

“It’s great!” she exclaimed, as she went slowly down.  “It’s perfectly lovely!  It’s as cold as an ice-box and the stones are all green and mossy.  Look out now, Mops, I’m coming to the other bucket.”

The two buckets bumped together, and Molly grabbed at the other one as it passed.

“Now, look out, Mopsy,” she said, “I’m going to let go of this other bucket and then I’ll only have my own chain to hang on to, so you manage it right and stick the stick through the chain when I tell you to.”

The plan worked pretty well, except that it was not easy for Marjorie to keep the water-filled bucket back to balance Molly’s weight.  It required all her strength to pull on the upcoming chain, and she was glad, indeed, when Molly told her to push the stick in.

A stout stick pushed through a link of chain held the windlass firmly, and as Marjorie lifted the bucket full of water up on to the curb, rash little Molly swung daringly deep in the well below.

“It’s awfully queer,” she called up, “and I don’t like it very much so low down.  Gracious, Marjorie, you spilled that water all over me!”