There they were hanging, one of them out of sight in the cool, deep water, and the other swinging empty in the sunshine, as Daisy Hadley and her dog Bruno came up to the well. The little girl and the big dog had been rambling about all the morning, following the brook through fields of sunflowers and poppies, or climbing the rocks on the sides of the mountains; but they were tired and thirsty now, and Daisy looked wistfully at the empty bucket, wishing she were strong enough to pull it down and bring the other, full and dripping, up in its place.
"Bruno," she said reproachfully, "I wish you could draw me some water." Bruno was a great, shaggy Newfoundland, that had been Daisy's play-mate ever since she could remember. He was a wonderful dog. Daisy herself would have told you that there were only a few things he could not do, but unfortunately managing that well was one of them. So there was no help for it, and Daisy was turning reluctantly away when she caught sight of Mr. Paul Gregg, one of the other summer boarders in the Park.
[Illustration: "A CLEVER SHEEP DOG." (SEE PRECEDING PAGE.)]
If he had not come up just then, there would have been no story to tell, and the buckets might have gone up and down in the well to this day without taking part in any more remarkable event. But he _did_ come up; and Daisy's face brightened, for they were great friends, though she was only a little girl in the Kindergarten, and he was a tall young student. He stopped when Daisy said she wanted some water; and putting down his botanical box, he began to draw some gloves over his rather soft hands.
"I don't like this kind of a well at all," said Daisy. "It isn't half as nice as the one at my grandfather's. _That_ had only one bucket, with a rope that went 'round and 'round a great roller; and there was a handle that I could turn myself."
"This is a very old and respectable kind of a well, though," said Mr. Gregg, taking hold of the rope. "There must have been such wells as long ago as Shakspere's time."
"How do you know?" asked Daisy, who was sure that Shakspere lived a great while ago, though she could not have told when.
"Shakspere, you know, Daisy," said Mr. Gregg, "was a great poet who lived hundreds of years ago, and in a play he wrote, called 'King Richard II.,' he tells about just such a well as this. Richard was one of the kings of England, and a very unlucky king he was, though I can't deny that he brought his troubles on himself, for he was anything but a wise and prudent ruler. At last his cousin Prince Henry raised a great army and forced Richard to give up the crown. Poor King Richard did not show much spirit when his troubles came; but, according to Shakspere, he made a very neat speech, when his clever cousin Henry told him that he had decided to become King himself. Among other things, Richard said that the crown he must give up was