There they stood with their angry faces close together as they quarreled over the two seconds. It seemed as if the dispute might end in blows.,
Oh, if he were only at home! Oh, those wicked postmaster’s boys who had rowed away and left him! They should get their pay when—but suppose he should die now! “Our Father who art in heaven.” Johnny Blossom, with eyes closed, said the whole of the Lord’s Prayer as he lay on his stomach on the red buoy. Now surely God would help him.,
Johnny Blossom hastened to get Mother’s sharpest scissors—the big shiny ones—for he intended to cut some long strips of stout cloth to tie the goat’s legs with. Johnny cut and cut. Suddenly the big blades slipped, caught Johnny’s little finger, and before he knew it, had cut the tip of it clean off! It hurt awfully—oh, well—not so terribly after all; but my, oh, my! how it bled! Johnny Blossom bound his not over-clean handkerchief around it, but still the blood came. Now it was all over his trousers. Perhaps he had better hide until it stopped..
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