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Never in all his life had he found himself in such a plight. He stayed at home only long enough to tie his foot up in a bandage, which made it look bigger than ever. And then he hurried off as fast as he could fly to call upon Aunt Polly Woodchuck, who was said to be an excellent doctor. Aunt Polly was at home. And since Mr. Crow could not crawl inside her house, she received him in her dooryard.
The White Farm. Afternoon. Meanwhile, Miss Avilda Cummins had left her window and gone into the next room for a skein of yarn. She answered the knock, however; and, opening the door, stood rooted to the threshold in speechless astonishment, very much as if she had seen the shades of her ancestors drawn up in line in the dooryard. Off went Timothy's hat.
The houses, with their sloping, red-tiled roofs, unexpected gables, spontaneous dormer windows, glass panes set in leaded frames, red brick facades trimmed with green shutters and doorsteps of white stone, each sitting back, sedate and self-sufficient, in its trim dooryard fenced off from the public thoroughfare: all wore an aspect hauntingly familiar, and yet strange.
But as soon as he went inside the house he forgot all about Johnnie Green. And when, a few moments later, there was a terrible sound of scraping and scratching in the long hall that led to the innermost part of the house, Buster Bumblebee never once thought to mention to anyone that he had seen Johnnie in the dooryard.
"When we were at grandpa's last summer, we used to stay out so long, playing under the trees in the dooryard, that nearly every night we saw the moon. "Sometimes it was big and round, and sometimes it looked like grandpa's sickle, only it had no handle. "And you ought to have heard the queer stories aunt Hattie told about the moon. Some of the stories were very funny, and some were very beautiful.
She wanted to get a safe distance away before the family got up and turned loose the dog that had barked the night before, when she arrived. Miss Kitty remembered clearly that the wagon had been climbing a long hill before it turned into the peddler's dooryard. So without hesitating she started down the road. She knew that in that direction lay Pleasant Valley and her home at Farmer Green's.
And MacRae wondered idly if Norman was bucking the game in earnest, strictly on his own, and why? Late in January the flash of a white skirt and a sky-blue sweater past his dooryard apprised MacRae that Betty was back. And he did not want to see Betty or talk with her. He hoped her stay would be brief.
The surgeon, Harry and I bowed from the room and stepped out to the water-bucket and gourd. From there we could see the missing two, lingering at the dooryard gate, in the bright moonlight. As we finished drinking, "Gentlemen," murmured Harry, "I fear our position is too exposed to be tenable." The surgeon started upstairs.
Lennox learned where the Brunners lived. I had been told that they would be looking for me, and I expected to go to them at once. As we approached the west bank of the creek, which winds south past the town, we could see the branches on the trees in grandma's dooryard swaying.
There were open fireplaces in parlor and sitting-room, and the wide dooryard was divided by a graveled and flower-bordered walk, where in summer bloomed syringas, sweet williams, peonies and phlox. On either side of the gate were two immense and broad-spreading maples. Houses have moods as well as people, and the mood of this one was calm, cool, dignified and typical of its fairest inmate.
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