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Billy hid his wheel in the same tangle of rose vine, now all pink and fragrant with bloom, that had sheltered it that earlier Spring afternoon,—was it years ago? It seemed so. As he crept out of the brush and turned to the steep tangled mountain, he saw the haunted house, with the bare space in front. There were the two brothers fighting fiercely! “We came—we came to bring these,” one ventured timidly, and lifted one end of the basket they carried between them. “I’ve watched, and called to him from the inside; but he only stands and mews. Did you ever see him climb up and open the screen?”.
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Conrad
“But where does our fun come in? Girls don’t build railroads,” Bess complained. “Gee whack! That’s the hardest work of all,” Billy complimented. Many times she had seen Mrs. Bennett transplant the garden flowers, had helped; now she put all her lore to use. Patiently she toiled with brittle sticks and pointed stones till the vine was replanted against the rude walls; emptied the dinner pail and trudged back and forth to the river several times for water, to wet the earth above the roots; and patted it down with muddy little hands. Mrs. Crump smiled kindly at the impressionable boy, and lest her son’s evident amusement should wound his feelings, she asked, “Do you like hearing of other countries and of other people?”.
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