It leaks into laundries and wrangles With mangles; It trips over turnips and tumbles down-hill; It rolls like a coach along highways And byways, But never gets anywhere, go as it will! Oh, foolish old Ferry! all muddles And puddles-- Go fribble and dribble along on your way; We drink to your health with molasses In glasses, And waft you farewell with a handful of hay! "What do you make out of it?" inquired the Stork anxiously. "I don't make anything out of it," said Dorothy, staring at him in great perplexity. "I didn't suppose you would," said the Stork, apparently very much relieved. "I've been at it for years and years, and I've never made sixpence out of it yet," with which remark he pulled in his head and disappeared. "I don't know what he means, I'm sure," said Dorothy, after waiting a moment to see if the Stork would come back, "but I wouldn't go over that ferry for _sixty_ sixpences. It's altogether too frolicky"; and having made this wise resolution, she was just turning to go back through the archway when the door of the house flew open and a little stream of water ran out upon the pavement. This was immediately followed by another and much larger flow, and the next moment the water came pouring out through the doorway in such a torrent that she had just time to scramble up on the window-ledge before the street was completely flooded. [Illustration: "'DEAR ME!' SHE EXCLAIMED, 'HERE COMES ALL THE FURNITURE!'"] Dorothy's first idea was that there was something wrong with the pipes, but as she peeped in curiously through the window she was astonished to see that it was raining hard inside the house--"and dear me!" she exclaimed, "here comes all the furniture!" and, sure enough, the next moment a lot of old-fashioned furniture came floating out of the house and drifted away down the street. There was a corner cupboard full of crockery, and two spinning-wheels, and a spindle-legged table set out with a blue-and-white tea-set and some cups and saucers, and finally a carved sideboard which made two or three clumsy attempts to get through the doorway broadside on, and then took a fresh start, and came through endwise with a great flourish. All of these things made quite a little fleet, and the effect was very imposing; but by this time the water was quite up to the window-ledge, and as the sideboard was a fatherly-looking piece of furniture with plenty of room to move about in, Dorothy stepped aboard of it as it went by, and, sitting down on a little shelf that ran along the back of it, sailed away in the wake of the tea-table. CHAPTER III THE CRUISE OF THE SIDEBOARD