"Just think
what a pile of things we brought them yesterday."
"There's nothing to do but get them more, I suppose," answered
Pierrette.
"I know where there's just bushels and bushels of water-cress,"
said Pierre, "but it's quite a long distance off. You know the
brook that flows through the meadow between here and camp? It's
just stuffed with it, and rabbits like it better than almost
anything."
"Let's go and get some now," said Pierrette. "We can take the
clothes-basket and bring back enough to last all day."
Pierre went for the basket, and the two children started down the
road which ran beside the meadow toward the camp. It was so early
that not another soul in the village was up. Even the rooster had
gone to sleep again after his misguided crowing. One pale little
star still winked in the morning sky, but the birds were already
winging and singing, as the children, carrying the basket between
them, set forth upon their quest.
When they reached the brook, they set down the basket, took off
their wooden shoes, and, wading into the stream, began gathering
great bunches of the cress. They were so busy filling their
basket that they did not notice the sun had gone out of sight
behind a cloud-bank, and that the air was still with that strange
breathless stillness that precedes a storm. It was not until a
loud clap of thunder, accompanied by a flash of light ning,
suddenly broke the silence, that they knew the storm was upon
them.
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