It was not such a very difficult undertaking; for the walls of the cottage, and the floor as well, were of clay—the former nearly sun-dried into a brick, and the latter trampled hard; but still both assailable by pickaxe and spade. He cut through the walls, and dug a channel along the floor, letting in stones in the bottom and sides. After it got out of the cottage and through the small garden in front, it should find its own way to the channel below, for here the hill was very steep.
The same evening his father came home.
“What have you been about, Colin?” he asked, in great surprise, when he saw the trench in the floor.
“Wait a minute, father,” said Colin, “till I have got your supper, and then I’ll tell you.”
So when his father was seated at the table, Colin darted out, and hurrying up to the stream, broke through the bank just in the place whence a natural hollow led straight to the cottage. The stream dashed out like a wild creature from a cage, faster than he could follow, and shot through the wall of the cottage. His father gave a shout; and when Colin went in, he found him sitting with his spoon halfway to his mouth, and his eyes fixed on the muddy water which rushed foaming through his floor.
“It will soon be clean, father,” said Colin, “and then it will be so nice!”
His father made no answer, but continued staring.
Colin went on with a long list of the advantages of having a brook running through your house. At length his father smiled and said:—
“You are a curious creature, Colin. But why shouldn’t you have your fancies as well as older people? We’ll try it awhile, and then we’ll see about it.”