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“And are all the ranchers in on this?”,

"All the better to see with, child.",

“Mother, Mother! The coffee is boiling over. Hurry!”,

During the meal the conversation was without any special interest, but afterwards, when Mr. Holman had retired for his siesta, Link O’Day joined the boys on the porch. The talk drifted from cattle to farming and from farming to forestry. On this topic the man spoke not only with knowledge but with enthusiasm.

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Johnny Blossom dashed homeward over the hill, bounding his swiftest so as to get home soon, for he had thought of something he was eager to carry out. If the master of Kingthorpe were alive Grandmother would ask him for money, she had said. Well, but really—he, Johnny Blossom, was master of Kingthorpe now, so he must, of course, attend to it. And he knew how he could do it. He would sell the fishing rod Uncle Isaac had given him—it cost an awful lot of money, Miss Melling had said—and Grandmother should have all he got for it. And his collection of coins—he would sell that, too. It ought to bring a lot of money—those old two-shilling pieces were so curious; and there was the English coin—my! that was worth ever so much!—and the queer old medal.,

Aunt Grenertsen was difficult to talk with—so contrary, somehow, even if not really cross, that it was very tiresome. She wasn’t the least bit like Uncle Isaac of Kingthorpe, who was always kind and gentle, always pleasant. Oh, dear, no! Aunt Grenertsen wasn’t like Uncle Isaac; far, far from it!,

When at last Bob was seated in the automobile ready to start for Engle and the train that would carry him back to the East and college, a great feeling of sadness swept over him. He took a last look at the dam and the myriad activities that clustered around it, and he was sorry that he had to go.,

What a clear light green the water was under the wharf! You could see every single snail shell, every starfish, and every tiniest stone on the smooth, light-colored bottom. Whole schools of small fish darted, quick as lightning, between the slimy old piles. Once in a while a lazy eel glided under the wharf, wound slowly in and out, lay still a moment as if to sun itself, then slowly, curve after curve, took itself out again.