She was a neat-looking little soul, with rosy cheeks, and a resolute
expression of countenance. She looked redder and firmer than usual as
she drove the broomstick through the handles of the colander, whilst the
boy was at the other side of the pond with the Water-Soldier, whose
maiden-blossom shone white among its sword-leaves.
It shone in the sunshine which came gaily through a gap in the trees,
and warmed my coat through to my wings, and made the pond look lovely.
That greedy _Ranatra_, who eats so much, and never looks a bit the more
solid for his meals, crept up a reed and sunned his wings; the
water-gnats skimmed and skated about, measuring the surface of the water
with their long legs; the "boatmen" shot up and down till one was quite
giddy, showing the white on their bodies, like swallows wheeling for
their autumn-flight. Even the water-scorpion moved slowly over a sunny
place from the roots of an arrow-head lily to a dark corner under the
duck-weed.
"Molly!" shouted the boy; "I wish you'd come and give a pull at the
Water-Soldier. I've nearly got him up; but the leaves cut my hands, and
you've got gloves. If the colander is ready, I'll begin to fish. There's
a beetle on that stick.
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