There was no regular stage line to Stanham Mills, and most of the purchasing for the estate was done at the town of Paterson, a half-day's journey. But, rain or shine, the 1st of June found Mr. Josiah Wyeth a guest at Stanham Manor, and the first of that month and the 1st of September found the young Frothinghams, all in their best attire, ready to meet him. Now that the uncle from London, whom they had never seen, had arrived in New York and was going to accompany Mr. Wyeth, the excitement was more than doubled. During the merchant's stay the children were supposed to be on their best behavior, which really meant that they were allowed to do as they pleased, provided they kept out of sight and hearing. These visits, therefore, were quite looked-for events, and, besides, Mr. Wyeth brought out little trinkets, fish-hooks, sugar-balls, lollipops, and various attractive sweets in his capacious saddle-bags. He was quite as punctual as if he only lived next door. The little girl had resumed her garland-making once more. William had spread himself out upon the bank, and was watching a busy aimless ant dodging about the roots of the ferns, and George, with the patience of the born sportsman, was supporting one hand with the other, and leaning out again over the water. For some time no one had spoken. Suddenly there was a deep, rumbling report. "Hillo!" said William, starting up. "They're blasting in the shaft on Tumble Ridge." "That's so," said George. "I heard Uncle Nathan say that they were getting pretty close to the Hewes boundary-line." "There'll be a fine row there some day," said William. "My! but doesn't Uncle Nathan hate that Mr. Hewes? He says if he was in England they could hang him for treason, because he talks against the King." George laughed. "I'd like to see 'em fight," he answered. "So should I," said William; "and you and I together could lick Carter Hewes, if he is bigger than either of us. I suppose he's a rebel too." Just here there came an interruption, for the waterfall had drawn the hook under a big flat stone, and there it caught. "Crickey!" said the boy in the pink breeches. "I'm fast on the bottom." He stretched out with both hands, and gave a sharp pull on the line. It all came so suddenly that not one of the three could have foretold what was going to happen. But the bank gave way, and Master Frothingham went down head over heels into the deep hole. Now, strange as it may seem, owing to Aunt Clarissa's fostering care, neither one of the twins had learned to swim. The water was very deep, and the fall was eight feet, if an inch, but, nevertheless, in a moment George's frightened face appeared. He tried to grasp the bank, but so steep was it his fingers slipped off the smooth rock, and he sank again, gasping and trying to shriek aloud.