sttamatka sttamatka

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“There’s a little secret about work; with grown-ups it is often their play; and they like it.”,

“Last night I heard something on the Q. T. I didn’t mean to, but I’m glad I did. I was in the pantry chuckin’ some bread an’ butter under my solar plexus when I heard Mr. Wright tell sister in the sitting-room—I guess some door was open a crack—that his law business was growing a little. I didn’t hear the next words, but there was ‘please’ in italics in his voice. But sister said, an’ I heard her plain enough, ‘No, Hal, not till I’ve saved enough to take Billy through school.’ ‘I’ll help—’ Mr. Wright got as far as that when this guy waked up,—knew he’d snuck information not intended for him. So I made a noise; I scatted the cat—no cat there—slammed the door, and kicked up a racket generally so’s they’d know I was there.”,

Moses came to the kitchen door pushing an untemperamental-looking wheel-barrow with a leg in splints, that is, a leg of the vehicle. The barrow was filled with carrots. He was accompanied by Job and Henry. Behind him trooped a merry laughing group of expectant children.,

They came to the crest of the gorge. “We’ll have to slow up and zig-zag down carefully or they’ll hear us an’ get away,” Billy suggested.

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May Nell had been “through the measles,” yet she shared the quarantine. Billy resented this at first. It was “no fair.” Afterward he was grateful; for aside from the cheer of her presence she did him a fine service. It was her clever brain that proposed to read his lessons aloud to him; and though he didn’t think much of it at first, he soon saw that this would make a chance for the prize which in his heart he had resigned.,

“This is like the cup I had at Mrs. Newman’s, in Calgary,” said Betty, then turning to Nell she asked, “Do you ’member the lovely chiner cups at Mrs. Newman’s, time Mr. Zalhamber was there?”,

Moses’ intuition regarding St. Elmo’s retreat proved to be correct, and it was a sadly dejected countenance on which he gazed when he looked into the cave. Tears, dirt, and the juice of Saskatoon berries mingled on the fair sleeping face of the child, until he seemed to be the very Cree Indian he had so often personated in his play. His long curls were tangled and matted with small twigs. His diminutive brown velvet coat displayed a large rent in the elbow through which oozed a pathetic-looking suppuration of pink and white checked shirt.,

“To be shore you kin,” was the reply, “but don’t hurry too much an’ smarsh the crockery.”