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“We must go right back,” Jimmy declared, turning to the door of the kitchen and thrusting a package within. “’Cause I love you, ’n’ I hope the edges’ll be all pink like my mornin’-glories.” “Why, you see,” Billy hesitated, for he was modest, “sister has a class of us heathen boys, and—well, you see, it’s this way; sister says,—she’s partial, you know,—she says I have influence; if I don’t giggle the others won’t, and she gets on O. K.”.
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Conrad
“Aren’t you going to say ‘Good-morning’ to me, Billy?” She put out the slenderest little white hand, and looked into his face appealingly. The boy scudded lightly across the narrow open space to the shelter of a manzanita tree, and looked back again; but no one appeared. Did he still hear the softly quarrelling voices? He fancied so. The sudden dip of the sun behind a hill darkened the scene threateningly, and brought a return of “the creeps.” Still, since Billy had broken his resolution of silence, he was feverishly eager to talk. His thoughts were erratic, now in the present, again flying back to the past. “O mother, you should be lickin’ me ’nstead of petting me!” he broke out passionately. A low rumble of thunder was heard in the distance and a flash of lightning made the coal-oil lamp look like a bilious spot in the room..
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