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From the lower slopes of the Cedar Hills issued many wide wooded ravines. Of these none were prettier than Spring Coulee which even in winter retained its attractiveness, having a goodly sprinkling of evergreen trees among the poplars and cottonwoods lining its sides. A grassy level formed the bottom of the coulee. Through the centre of this a little crystal-clear stream, rising in the hills behind and swelled by an occasional spring which gushed from the sides of the ravine, danced over its pebbly bed to join Berry Creek a mile away.,“Yes; but—oh, Billy, it’s awful to have to grow up and be proper. I begged mamma not to put my dresses down, but I’m past thirteen, and big as she is. And—”,“Naw Nosey,” he retorted, “there ain’t no bun to break in two, the dorg is outside the bun already.”,“Then you don’t love yer li’l sister ef you don’t want her to look like you.” Betty almost wept.,“Bully fer you, ’s Gordon,” shouted the excited Moses leaping furiously. “Keep her goin’. Ole Dan Tucker jist fits that toon.”,[42]Mrs. Bennett did not know, as her son did, that the retort touched a sore fact. Jimmy’s eyes darkened with the look that had earned for him the name of “Sour.” Yet in spite of this he had a fine, strong face.,“Clarence will tell the men where to instal their teams,” the hostess reflected. The boy, who had fought shy of this mere woman’s party, had spent the afternoon in the barn.,“I hope my breakfast won’t be quite so—”,Another gift Moses brought his little sister was a small shell purse containing a new silver coin. This largess was in a way expiatory. He had not yet regained his self-respect since his refusal to grant Betty’s request for a quarter, and it seemed as though the act of expiation must repeat itself indefinitely.,“I knew it!” Billy panted feverishly. “The Ha’nt!” Heedless of the dog running with his nose close to the ground, Billy rushed on. His shirt was torn, his trousers hanging by one suspender, his shoes cut and one tap turned back. Ashes whitened his hair; though at the back a dark mat was still damp from oozing blood,—the handkerchief that had bound it had been torn off by a twitching twig. His smarting eyes watered so that he could hardly see his way. Yet of all this he was unconscious. Weariness, pain, his cracked and bleeding lips,—he knew nothing of them, felt nothing.,There was room on the slip of paper for only this last item, so numerous had been the demands, during this busy day, on Mr. Wopp’s memory.,At this mendacious statement Mrs. Wopp turned on her offspring a withering glance..