Struggling to his feet, his eyes almost blinded, smarting with the sting of the smoke, he dashed headlong into the flaming door.,
Wasn’t there something else he could sell so that Grandmother should see the ocean and everything again? Oh, of course—all those books about Indians; they must be worth a good deal and he had at least twelve of them. And his collection of eggs! Why, yes! They were perfectly beautiful eggs, and rare, many of them. To be sure almost every one was broken a little on one side. That didn’t matter a bit when they were placed nicely in a box, but perhaps people who bought eggs would rather have them whole. Well, the fishing rod was valuable, anyway.,
Even the great big boys of the Fourth Class came. Otto Holm himself, who wore a stiff hat and carried a cane, sat and waited to see him, little Johnny Blossom! By and by it came about that they asked if they might not ride, just a little way—Otto Holm and Peter Prytz and Gunnar Olsen, and it was too embarrassing to say no to such great big fellows..
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