"Listen to Mr. Noah, my dear, for he was certainly right the first time,
and why shouldn't he be now?"
Mr. Noah smiled and walked across the table towards a little yellow hen.
"Shoo," he cried, as the contrary fowl tried to dodge around a toy
automobile. "Shoo there. You know you can't swim like Mrs. Duck, so why
don't you have some sense and get aboard out of harm's way?"
As he finished speaking, water began to pour over the windowsill, and soon
the nursery floor was ankle deep. Marjorie stood on a chair and, climbing
upon the table, walked over to the Ark. On her way she picked up her rag
doll, Maria Jane, and the little toy automobile.
"Hurry, my dear," cried Mr. Noah, "here comes the water over the edge of
the table."
As it was, Maria Jane was splashed a bit, and so was the automobile before
it was pushed through the narrow doorway, for the Ark was rolling from
side to side in rather a dangerous manner.
"Make everything tight. Close the hatches and the portholes!" commanded
Capt. Noah (for now that they were actually afloat, this seemed the proper
title for him), and in a few minutes it was comfortable and snug inside.
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