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“This is Evelyn Dorr, and Vilette, her sister,” Mrs. Bennett was saying. Moses adored his little foster-sister when she was well; but sick, his adoration turned to blind worship. For several days Betty had been ill. Moses’ religion, bottled up during care-free days, burst forth in foam of intercession for Betty’s return to health. “Hurt?”.
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Conrad
May Nell looked at him a minute before speaking. “You like doing things, but you don’t like work. Isn’t work doing things?” He tried to hold it from falling, but could not. It seemed as if his arms would be pulled out of their sockets. It would fall short—he must hold on to it, not let it strike below, for the noise would betray them too soon; and—the men in the wagon were passing! “Better quit tarlkin’, Moses, an’ let the picter show go on so’s we kin hev supper, everythin’s laid an’ ready.” The whole garden had been fenced in as a precaution against the encroachment of predatory animals. Molly, the inquisitive black cow, or Josh and Jake, who had no proper sense of the fitness of things, would have liked nothing better than to sample Mrs. Wopp’s prize turnips and scanty crop of Indian corn, and to trample into the soft earth whatever did not suit their dainty palates..
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