Tom, standing by, mopping his face, turned to see that Miss Marshall,
her red parasol resting over one shoulder, had strolled away.
"That was kind of Clara," laughed Tom.
"What was?" inquired Belle.
"To take that red sunshade further off. It made me perspire to
look at it."
"Red silk shuts out some of the worst rays of the sun," Laura
explained wisely.
"Does it?" asked Tom. "I know there must be some excuse for carrying
a red sunshade."
Then suddenly he colored, remarking:
"That wasn't very gallant of me, but I didn't mean it quite the
way it sounds."
"And a red parasol helps throw a little tinge of color over a
face that hasn't any too much color of its own," added Susie.
"Clara is always more or less pale in summer."
"She might be a lot more pale if any of those wild cattle were
to roam back this way," smiled Dr. Bentley.
Hardly had he uttered the words when, from the edge of the woods,
there came a piercing scream, followed by a deep, bass bellow
that seemed to shake the ground.
All hands turned instantly, to see Clara running frantically,
waving the parasol in her fright, while not very far behind her
charged a bull, its head lowered.
"Drop your parasol!" cried Greg. "Throw it away.
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