"Mamma," said the child, "shall I pick you some pretty flowers?"
"Yes, baby," said his mother, who was looking at the sunset, and only half
listening, "but don't go far away."
"No," said the little fellow, and how it happened, Mrs. Elliott never knew,
but seemingly in a moment, Gilbert had climbed into a boat and was afloat
alone on the lake. For an instant Mrs. Elliott was too frightened even to
scream; and then, she dared not, for the boat was a little, round-bottomed
affair, and Gilbert was jumping about in it so excitedly, that if suddenly
startled he might upset the boat.
With great presence of mind his mother spoke to him gently.
"Gilbert, dear," she said, "sit down in the middle of the boat, and be
quiet until I call papa, will you? There's a good boy."
"I am a good boy," Gilbert called back; "I'm going to get mamma pretty pink
pond-flowers."
The boat was drifting farther and farther out, and the child sitting in the
bow, rocked it from one side to the other.
"Gilbert," said his mother, sternly, "sit right down in the bottom of the
boat.
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