He was reaching behind him for clods and pebbles to toss into the white foaming flood below them.

The girl reached back and got one, then another, then their hands met, and she pulled hers away and said, "Get me some stones." He gave her a handful, and she threw the pebbles away slowly and awkwardly, one at a time.

There was a long gap in their talk while they threw the pebbles.
The girl closed it with, "Ma made old Buck wipe the dishes." Then she giggled, "Poor Buckie." John managed to say, "Yes, I heard him." Then he added, "What does your mother think of Bob ?" "Oh, she likes him fine.

But she's glad you're all going away." The boy asked why and the girl returned, "Watch me hit that log." She threw, and missed the water.
"Why ?" persisted the boy.
The girl was digging in a crevice for a stone and said, "Can you get that out ?" John worked at it a moment and handed it to her with, "Why ?" She threw it, standing up to give her arm strength.

She sat down and folded her hands and waited for another "why." When it came she said, "Oh, you know why." When he protested she answered, "Ma thinks Molly's too young." "Too young for what ?" demanded the boy, who knew.
"Too young to be going with boys." There was a long pause, then he managed to say it, "She's no younger than you were--nor half as old." "When ?" returned the girl, giving him the broadside of her eyes for a second, and letting them droop.