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“That’s mighty tough,” said Bob sympathetically, when Jerry paused for a moment. “I’ll bet Mr. Whitney cares—” Low whisp'ring echoes steal along the glades “What are you talking about, boy?”.
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The next day Mother said: “Father and I have decided, John, that you shall go away for a while this vacation. You shall go to visit Mrs. Beck at Ballerud. That will be pleasant for you, and as it is an inland country place, I shan’t have to be in constant anxiety about your falling into the sea.” “Oh, yes, the whole garden is full.” It was the cunningest goat you ever saw, lively but good, and so pretty—light gray, with a little beard. Mother had bought it early in the spring. On Sundays it had a blue ribbon around its neck, and other days a red worsted collar with a white button. It was a great pet. “I couldn’t help it—”.
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