Winnie clutched her pole, sitting sidewise in the stern, and watched the baited hook sink slowly down. A dragonfly, a brilliant blue jewel, darted up and paused over the lily pads, then swung up and away. From the nearest bank, a bullfrog spoke.

“There certainly are a lot of frogs around here,” Winnie observed.

“That’s so,” said Miles. “They’ll keep coming, too, long as the turtles stay away. Snappers, now, they’ll eat a frog soon as look at him.”

Winnie thought about this peril to the frogs, and sighed. “It’d be nice,” she said, “if nothing ever had to die.”

“Well, now, I don’t know,” said Miles. “If you think on it, you come to see there’d be so many creatures, including people, we’d all be squeezed in right up next to each other before long.”

Winnie squinted at her fishing line and tried to picture a teeming world. “Mmm,” she said, “yes, I guess you’re right.”

Suddenly the cane pole jerked in her hands and bent into an arch, its tip dragged down nearly to the water’s surface. Winnie held on tight to the handle, her eyes wide.

“Hey!” cried Miles. “Look there! You got a bite. Fresh trout for breakfast, Winnie.”

But just as suddenly the pole whipped straight again and the line went slack. “Shucks,” said Miles. “It got away.”

“I’m kind of glad,” Winnie admitted, easing her rigid grip on the butt of the pole. “You fish, Miles. I’m not so sure I want to.”

And so they drifted for a little longer. The sky was blue and hard now, the last of the mist dissolved, and the sun, stepping higher above the trees, was hot on Winnie’s back. The first week of August was reasserting itself after a good night’s sleep. It would be another searing day.

A mosquito appeared and sat down on Winnie’s knee. She slapped at it absently, thinking about what Miles had said. If all the mosquitoes lived forever—and if they kept on having babies!—it would be terrible. The Tucks were right. It was best if no one knew about the spring, including the mosquitoes. She would keep the secret. She looked at Miles, and then she asked him, “What will you do, if you’ve got so much time?”

“Someday,” said Miles, “I’ll find a way to do something important.”

Winnie nodded. That was what she wanted.

“The way I see it,” Miles went on, “it’s no good hiding yourself away, like Pa and lots of other people. And it’s no good just thinking of your own pleasure, either. People got to do something useful if they’re going to take up space in the world.”

“But what will you do?” Winnie persisted.

“I don’t know yet,” said Miles. “I ain’t had no schooling or nothing, and that makes it harder.” Then he set his jaw and added, “I’ll find a way, though. I’ll locate something.”

Winnie nodded. She reached out and ran her fingers across a lily pad that lay on the water beside the boat. It was warm and very dry, like a blotter, but near its center was a single drop of water, round and perfect. She touched the drop and brought her fingertip back wet; but the drop of water, though it rolled a little, remained as round and perfect as before.