Alice looked interestedly at the child thus pointed out. She was a bright, pretty looking little girl with oh, such a poor dress—and no doll? Why she was just Mary Jane’s age—but this was no time to stand looking at other folks, and she turned to the water to see what could be done. Mary Jane, in the meantime, had crept up to the edge of the dock and was peering down into the clear water. "There it is," she said, pointing, "see? It’s right down there! Now, don’t you cry, we’re going to get it out in a jiffy. I wish I had a long stick to poke with." "You don’t need a stick," said the big boy, peering over beside her. "See how shallow it is? And a stick would just stir up mud and get its clothes all dirty." "I could pretty nearly reach it without a stick," suggested Mary Jane as she sat on the pier and reached down into the water. "That’s an idea," exclaimed the boy, "that’s just what I’m going to do." He proceeded to lie down flat on the narrow dock and stretch his hands down into the water. "You almost touched it!" exclaimed Mary Jane excitedly, "just reach a little more—" [Illustration: "You almost touched it!" exclaimed Mary Jane.] "But I can’t reach any more!" said the boy, "see?" And he looked up for a suggestion. "Oh, I’ll tell you what!" he added, "I’ll reach over farther and you hold my feet so I won’t fall in. Then I’ll reach down with one hand and I’ll bet I get it." He wormed himself closer to the edge of the dock and while Alice held tightly to his shoes, he reached down, down, down into the water. "He’s got it," reported Mary Jane, who was watching, "he’s touched it and he’s got it—look!" Sure enough. The boy wiggled back a bit from the very edge and lifted the dripping doll out of the water. "Oh, my dolly! My dolly!" cried the little mother, "but she’s all wet!" "What did you expect after such a soaking?" chuckled the boy, "but water’ll dry. My coat’s wet but it’ll dry in this warm air." He took off his coat and spread it out in the sun on the dock. "And that’s what you must do to your doll," said Mary Jane. She loved nothing so much as mothering folks—children, dolls—it didn’t matter which just so they needed something done for them. "Here, let me help you and we’ll have her fixed in a jiffy." She sat down on the dock, with the little mother beside her, and began to undress the soaked dolly. "Now we’ll take off her dress—so. And then her petticoat—so. And we’ll spread ’em all out in the sun—so." "Why don’t you spread ’em on a bush?" asked the boy practically, "that’s what I do when I go swimming." "Here, I’ll do it," said his sister, and the shy little brown-eyed girl forgot all about herself and being afraid of strangers in her eagerness to touch the doll’s pretty wet clothes. "Then you do it," agreed Mary Jane. Very carefully she took off stockings, shoes, underclothes, every stitch the doll had on and the little Italian girl spread the things on the bushes in the sunshine.