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“In what sense did they found it?” he deigned to comment at last. “And what is meant by founding a city or a state? What do they do? Did they go and each lay a brick, do you suppose?” There was laughter. The offending boy turned from pink to crimson. He was silent and on the point of tears. Kolya held him so for a minute.
Thrush could see it," he had observed, laying down the brick he had taken up to add to the tower just before his father had spoken. "He would be pleased." The words had been lifted out on a sigh, the sigh of the wonder-worker who had achieved his mission. And then they had talked of Mr. Thrush, sitting carefully, almost motionless, beside the tower, and speaking softly "for fear."
He could easily realize what a slip of the hand might mean: a plunge through space to the brick paving far below; and there an instant and horrible end. His picture of it was enough to guard him against accident. He contented himself with laying his body across the sill, with the longer and heavier portion of his small anatomy balanced securely against a shorter and lighter upper portion.
The old garden, though small and flanked by the ugly backs of city houses, seemed to hold within its brick inclosure a world full of white liquid moonlight. Shrubs, however, which had grown in disorder under the walls, threw dark and steady shadows across the patches of lesser vegetation. The tops of early blossoms and nodding grasses showed beyond these spaces of blackness.
Anna sat down at the tiny table and drank her tea. She felt rather better after the tea. Harmony, having taken the towel off, was busy over the brick stove. There was nothing said for a moment. Then: "I am out of patience with Peter," said Anna. "Why?" "Because he hasn't fallen in love with you. Where are his eyes?" "Please, Anna!" "It's better as it is, no doubt, for both of you.
But, Cricket, don't you think he is really getting smaller all the time? Last summer his head came above my shoulder, and look at him now!" "Does it occur to you that your shoulder may be growing above his head?" suggested Auntie Jean, laughing. "Unless you put a brick on your head, I am sadly afraid that you wouldn't be able to ride Charcoal next summer."
Concrete that is carelessly made is very poor stuff, and dangerous to use, for it is not at all reliable and may give out at any time; but concrete that is made of the best materials and properly put together is an exceedingly valuable article. The simplest way to make a brick is to fill a mould with soft clay, then take it out and let it stiffen, and then put it in the sun to dry.
The town of Courcy for the place claimed to rank as a town was in many particulars like the castle. It was built of dingy-red brick almost more brown than red and was solid, dull-looking, ugly and comfortable. It consisted of four streets, which were formed by two roads crossing each other, making at the point of junction a centre for the town.
The next minute she heard footsteps, and then a sound, as if some one was drawing back a little bolt. "It is a door," said Jem, "and somebody is going to open it." The white brick moved a little, and some more mortar and soot fell; then the brick moved a little more, and then it slid aside and left an open space. "It's a room!" cried Jem, "There's a room behind it!"
Up one street and down another they flew, as fast as the Striped Beetle would go, with the snake always a length ahead of them. At last, it darted across the sidewalk, up the front walk of a brick mansion, up the front steps and in at the open front door. Wild screams from within indicated that his presence had been observed.
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