Er--er--don't you think we'd better put off makin' the sail till we get home or--or somewheres?
This chowder is sort of on my conscience this minute." Babbie evidently did not think so.

She went away on an exploring expedition.

In a few minutes she returned, a sheet of paper in her hand.
"It was blowing around just where I found the shingle," she declared.

"It's a real nice place to find things, up on that hill place, Uncle Jed." Jed took the paper, looked at it absently--he had taken off his coat during the fire-building and his glasses were presumably in the coat pocket--and then hastily doubled it across, thrust the mast of the "shingle boat" through it at top and bottom, and handed the craft to his small companion.
"There!" he observed; "there she is, launched, rigged and all but christened.

Call her the--the 'Geranium'-- the 'Sunflower'-- what's the name of that doll baby of yours?
Oh, yes, the 'Petunia.' Call her that and set her afloat." But Barbara shook her head.
"I think," she said, "if you don't mind, Uncle Jed, I shall call this one 'Ruth,' that's Mamma's name, you know.