Pat squatted down by the edge of the pond, picked up several stones, examined them, and tossed them back down. Finally finding one that suited her, she turned it over a couple of times to fit into her hand properly, then flung it at the pond. It skipped a good six or seven times.
Maybe Pat didn’t know that skipping rocks was called ducks and drakes, but she was what Geordie would call a “dab hand” at it. “That wasn’t too shabby—for a girl,” I said.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish