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“Why not, I’d like to know? Isn’t this my shack? And shall I let a kid burn up?” “But she’s a girl.” “I have to help sister, you know.”.
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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Conrad
Bess’s coming launched the procession. People in the vicinity who had not before known of the presence of a circus, knew it now. Everybody talked at once, and every living thing made its own kind of a noise. Billy as Master of Ceremonies had his hands full, his voice full too, one might say. Off they bounded, side by side, through the fragrant spring evening. The red of the western sky touched to brighter rosiness their glowing cheeks, tinted Jean’s wind-blown hair with gold. As they neared the town she shot ahead in a last ambitious spurt, wheeled and faced him as he came up. “O, Dadsie,” was the reply, “this is recital afternoon, you know.” “That big sand pile the kids made last week for a fort can be the Sierras, and we’ll tunnel, and have a loop, and—”.
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