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So Johnny Blossom dashed over the hill again. This was something worth hurrying for. When he came to Sandy Point, he saw the grandmother walking alone around the outside of the house, feeling her way as usual. “Hello, Bob,” was his greeting. “Just got back from up river. Rutherford had me measuring the elevation of all the anthills from here to Canada.” “I don’t know,” hesitated the other after a pause. “I reckon it’s mighty kiddish of me but—but I just can’t help it.”.
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Conrad
There was silence for a moment and then Bob asked quietly. The praise acted like a tonic on the weary boy. He stood up. “Indeed?” Aunt Grenertsen looked at the little old stamp dubiously, turning it round and round. “Not a bit,” said John. “It was the fault of the postmaster’s boys entirely. See what I’ve got.” And Johnny Blossom took his English boatswain’s whistle out and blew it, with beaming face..
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