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Full of her thought she slipped from the couch, and went to the kitchen. “Mrs. Bennett, haven’t you some work a little girl could do?” “Why have you been away out in the country for milk?” “No matter, Billy. I think she was sent to us; and we shall find a way. Are the chickens fed?”.
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Conrad
A tall, lean, loose-jointed, large-limbed man was enjoying the frosty air and walked briskly humming a gay tune. All at once he found his face upturned to the glorious blue sky and a youthful voice reached his ear, “Did you see the telegraph pole sail over that icy spot?” Then another voice equally youthful, but with a distinct absence of city polish, answered, “Betcher life I seen him, wouldn’t of missed it fer a punkin pie, he’s lookin’ fer gopher holes in the ground yet.” “You are one simp,” he comforted, at the same time putting his own overcoat about the shivering boy. And Billy did not think of it as strange till Buzz’s grandmother called from behind the window curtain, “Delia, you surely won’t traipse through town with that crowd! How you will look!” Many times she had seen Mrs. Bennett transplant the garden flowers, had helped; now she put all her lore to use. Patiently she toiled with brittle sticks and pointed stones till the vine was replanted against the rude walls; emptied the dinner pail and trudged back and forth to the river several times for water, to wet the earth above the roots; and patted it down with muddy little hands..
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