She
would have known him, she was sure, no matter how he looked. But, thank
God, he was not there. She remembered so well the morning he rode off on
his prancing horse, with the bands playing Dixie.
"Charlie," called Aunt Betsy, "take this Bible with you."
"O Auntie," laughed the merry young fellow, "I can't, but I'll promise to
say, 'Now I lay me down to sleep' every night."
"O, what duz make fo'ks git so mad with ech other?" said Mam' Sarah. "It
will all cum rite, if they'll only hol' back en trust God."
Just before tea, Roberta ran down to uncle Squire's cabin, on the hill
back of the spring-house. She told him she had a secret for his ears
alone, made him look under the bed, the cup-board, chairs, and every
place, to be sure there were no eaves-droppers. Then she sat down on a
stool and slided it along towards him. He edged his chair a little closer
towards her, so by the time she began her communication their heads almost
touched. It was comical to see the old man's various facial expressions
while the child talked. He would squint his eyes like he was trying to
sight something away ahead of him, puffed out his cheeks till they
resembled an inflated bellows.
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