They dared not, of course, go fishing on the pond, where they would be
seen by people going to church. They had to resort to the brook in the
woods behind the Cotton house. But it was full of trout, and they had a
glorious time that morning--at least the Cottons certainly had, and
Davy seemed to have it. Not being entirely bereft of prudence, he had
discarded boots and stockings and borrowed Tommy Cotton's overalls. Thus
accoutered, bog and marsh and undergrowth had no terrors for him. Dora
was frankly and manifestly miserable. She followed the others in their
peregrinations from pool to pool, clasping her Bible and quarterly
tightly and thinking with bitterness of soul of her beloved class where
she should be sitting that very moment, before a teacher she adored.
Instead, here she was roaming the woods with those half-wild Cottons,
trying to keep her boots clean and her pretty white dress free from
rents and stains. Mirabel had offered the loan of an apron but Dora had
scornfully refused.