"You know, Winn, that it was ever so much cheaper to build the raft here than it would have been 'way down there, and, besides, father wasn't ready to start when it was finished.

I heard him tell mother that he didn't care to get away before the 1st of November.

Anyhow, father must understand his own business better than a sixteen-year-old boy, even if that boy's name is Winn Caspar." "Oh, I never saw such a girl as you are!" exclaimed Winn, impatiently.
"You are always making objections to my plans, and telling me that I'm only a boy.

You'd rather any time travel in a rut that some one else had made than mark out a track for yourself.

For my part, I'd much rather think out my own plans and try new ways." "So do I, Winnie; but--" "Oh, don't call me 'Winnie,' whatever you do! I'm as tired of pet names and baby talk as I am of waiting here for high-water that won't ever come." With this the petulant lad rose to his feet, and leaping ashore, disappeared among the trees of the river-bank, leaving Elta to gaze after him with a grieved expression, and a suspicion of tears in her brown eyes.
In spite of this little scene, Winn Caspar was not an ill-tempered boy.
He had not learned the beauty of self-control, and thus often spoke hastily, and without considering the feelings of others.