THE WATER-WORKS
are showing. But we went along down, because Oswald wanted to get some cobbler's wax in Falding village for a bird-net he was making.
But just above Falding Lock, where the river is narrow and straight, we saw a sad and gloomy sight—a big barge sitting flat on the mud because there was not water enough to float her.
There was no one on board, but we knew by a red flannel waistcoat that was spread out to dry on top that the barge belonged to friends of ours.
Then Alice said, "They have gone to find the man who turns on the water to fill the pen. I dare say they won't find him. He's gone to his dinner, I shouldn't wonder. What a lovely surprise it would be if they came back to find their barge floating high and dry on a lot of water! Do let's do it. It's a long time since any of us did a kind action deserving of being put in the Book of Golden Deeds."
We had given that name to the minute-book of that beastly "Society of the Wouldbegoods." Then you could think of the book if you wanted to without remembering the Society. I always tried to forget both of them.
Oswald said, "But how? You don't know how. And if you did we haven't got a crow-bar."
I cannot help telling you that locks are opened with crow-bars. You push and push till a thing goes up and the water runs through. It is rather like the little sliding-door in the big door of a hen-house.
"I know where the crow-bar is," Alice said.
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