One brilliant Sunday Mr. Wells paced up and down in the sunshine before his little church. An ardent lover of nature he was admiring the beautiful shades of the foliage on either hand and the gorgeous masses of golden-rod that lifted feathery heads to the sun. Presently seeing two or three vehicles approaching he retired into the church.,
“Singe my hair ef I do, let’s hev some more doin’s,” rebelled Moses.,
“You know she never does nothin’ to us really, Moses, no matter how she jaws. Come on, you clipped yer pony so lovely an’ evenlike. The horse-clippers is bangin’ on the wall behind you.”,
“Moses,” she directed, “git an empty apple-box fer the burnt orfferin’s.”
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“What has happened to you, Billy?” his mother questioned sharply as she turned at his voice and saw his damaged head. “You’re hurt, Billy!”,
“You romp!” came the disgusted voice once more. “You’d better cut your hair, and your skirts, and be a child again.”,
“Aint Miss Gordon a lovely dancer?” she interrogated, “and aint she lovely herself? I’ve been watollin’ you an’ her dance all evenin’. Moses says he’s almost wore out one eye lookin’ at you both. He says he don’t go in strong fer teachers, but he thinks Miss Gordon is worth an eyestrain anyways.”,
“Can he mean ‘prodigy,’ do you think, May Nell?” Edith’s eyes were mischievous.
“Mine stomach ist so full mine head cannot t’ink,” Max stammered to Mrs. Bennett; “but it vas bravo!”
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“Mebbe she’s all right,” admitted the boy.
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fhsuw-Wong,
It’s a Quan-Yuan
It was a blessing that even her loyal soul must yield to nature’s balm of passing time; in wholesome companionship and the fragrant warmth of a country spring she somewhat forgot the grief that would otherwise have worn to death her frail little body.
8127q-Xu,
Bingbing-Li
“Mine stomach ist so full mine head cannot t’ink,” Max stammered to Mrs. Bennett; “but it vas bravo!”
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Halin-Chen Response,
>Billy went to the door and looked after them. No one was in sight. Harold, the twins, and May Nell, too, were gone. What could it mean? He looked back at the clock. Nearly ten. Usually the Gang gathered earlier than this, hung around and hurried him with his work, many putting in lusty strokes, that Billy, the favorite, might the sooner be released. But now even Jean, his stanch second in all the fun going, was late. He had expected to be late himself; he always was. But he, who planned most of the sport in spite of doing more work than any of them, had this day expected his schemes to be well launched before he could join in them.
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